Chapter 30 Training Grounds And Dangerous Games #3
"You," she pants, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. "Inside me. Now."
Fuck, that's direct. And hot as hell.
I growl, hooking my fingers into her waistband, ready to tug them down, when another clumsy moment hits—literally. As I shift to pull her leggings off, my knee slips on the mat, still slick from our earlier sweat, and I topple sideways, taking her with me in a tangle of limbs.
We roll once, twice, ending up with her on top again, both of us laughing hysterically. "Okay, now that's twice!" she gasps between giggles. "Are you sure you're the coordinated one?"
I wheeze, trying to catch my breath. "Mats are traitors.
Or maybe it's you—making me lose my mind.
" I pull her down for another kiss, this one softer, laced with affection.
Her laughter vibrates against my chest, and damn if it doesn't make me fall harder.
This is us—cozy chaos, bickering and banter mixed with heat, like the bonfires at the Harvest Fair where we'd steal glances years ago.
She sits up, straddling me once more, her hands pinning my shoulders. "Admit it—you're hopeless without me."
"Hopelessly in love," I counter, bucking up gently to remind her of the hardness still straining between us. Her eyes widen, then darken with renewed hunger.
"Prove it," she says, grinding down slow and deliberate.
I sit up, wrapping my arms around her, our faces inches apart.
Her scent envelopes me—vanilla, cinnamon, and that omega sweetness that's all arousal now.
The gym feels smaller, intimate, the outside world fading.
"I will…but" Even as I say it, my body protests, knot throbbing at the thought of waiting.
She pouts, adorable and frustrating.
"Tease."
"Practical. Anyone could walk in." But my hands betray me, sliding under her top again, thumbs brushing her nipples. She shivers, pressing closer.
"Then lock the door," she suggests, voice husky.
Tempting. So tempting.
I glance at the door, calculating—it's just us, the station quiet after the session. But then I think of her past, of not rushing, of making sure every moment is right. "Hazel..."
She kisses me again, cutting off my protest, her body rocking against mine in a rhythm that's driving me insane.
"Please, Rowan. I need you."
Those words—fuck, they undo me. My resistance crumbles, hands roaming freely now, tugging at her clothes.
She's right; we're alone, and she's asking, begging even.
Her attractiveness hits me anew—curves that fit perfectly in my hands, eyes that see right through me, strength that's grown from ashes.
Something funny happens then, breaking the intensity once more.
As I finally yank her leggings down, exposing her to the cool gym air, a rogue yoga ball from the corner decides to make its escape.
It rolls slowly across the mat, bumping into my foot with a soft thud, then bounces off toward the wall like it's judging us.
Hazel dissolves into giggles again.
"You got to be kidding me! Even the equipment's cockblocking you!"
I laugh, shaking my head.
"This gym hates me today."
But you know what? I don’t care anymore. Fuck this. Clumsy or not, I need to fuck here and now.
As the humor fades, heat builds again. She's naked from the waist down now, her slick coating my pants where she grinds. I free myself with fumbling hands, too eager, and she gasps at the sight.
She takes a moment to appreciate my grith, and fuck, it’s such a turn on. To be admired by your Omega. Validating your manhood and Alpha qualities, which I guess I needed the ego boost since I haven’t been very active in the fucking department.
"Rowan..."
"Last chance to stop," I warn, but she’s gripping my shaft before anything else can go astray, stroking me, which makes me grunt while precum at my dip oozes along my length that perfect lubricant.
“No stopping,” she growls right back, and fuck.
If that didn’t make my nerves flip in pure excitement at her impatience.
I really have no say, which makes me realize I could potentially be a bottom when it comes to he,r cause why am I so turned on by her taking control of me, the Captain of my division, aiming to be chief of the entire district, being handled by my Omega.
Only my Omega could get the privilege to do this.
She lifts her hips enough, my tip taunting her folds as she lets her generous amount of slick coat my length for added measure.
Then, far too slowly, inch by inch, she’s descending on my cock, making me groan in relief when she literally takes me so fucking well, I may shoot my shot before we even get to the moving part.
I grunt and bite my lower lip, staying completely still, needing to tame myself while I allow her to adjust.
Her tightness is a vice, velvet heat clamping down around me like she's claiming every inch for herself, and fuck, it's all I can do not to buck up into her right then.
The gym mat beneath us is still warm from our training session, the faint scent of rubber and sweat mixing with her intoxicating vanilla-cinnamon slick that's flooding the air, turning the whole room into some kind of forbidden nest. I can feel her pulse fluttering against my skin, her eyes locked on mine, wide and hungry, those soft orange-and-black curls framing her flushed face like a halo of fire.
God, she's beautiful—curves that could stop traffic, that athletic grace she hides in those cozy sweaters double her size, straddling me like she owns the damn firehouse.
"Rowan," she breathes, her voice a husky whisper that sends a shiver down my spine.
She rocks her hips experimentally, grinding down just enough to make stars explode behind my eyes.
My hands tighten on her thighs, fingers digging into the soft, sweat-slicked flesh there, feeling the muscles flex under my touch.
She's been working so hard today—three hours of self-defense drills, pinning me to the mat with that surprise twist that left me blinking up at her in shock.
Proud doesn't even cover it; she's like a phoenix rising, all that vulnerability she hides under her teasing smiles turning into something fierce and unbreakable.
I groan low in my throat, forcing myself to stay still, to let her set the pace.
"You're killing me, Hazel. So damn perfect.
" My voice comes out rougher than I intend, laced with that Alpha growl I can't quite suppress.
Her scent spikes—vanilla cinnamon deepening to something richer, like caramelized sugar over an open flame—mixing with my own cedar and smoke, creating this heady cloud that makes it hard to think straight.
The gym's fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows on the padded walls and the scattered training dummies, but none of that matters. It's just us, the world narrowed to her body enveloping mine, her breath hitching as she adjusts to my size.
She leans forward, bracing her hands on my chest, her nails scraping lightly over my skin. The movement shifts her weight, and I feel her clench around me, drawing another grunt from deep in my gut.
"You feel... so good," she murmurs, her eyes fluttering half-closed, that playful pout turning into something more sinful.
Slowly, she starts to move, lifting up and sinking back down in a rhythm that's tentative at first, like she's testing the waters.
Each slide has me biting back curses, my knot already swelling at the base, that instinctive urge to lock us together pounding in my veins. But I hold it back—barely—because this is about her, about giving her the power she's reclaiming after everything Korrin's pack put her through.
I know bits and pieces from what she's shared, the way they dimmed her light, made her doubt her worth. Seeing her like this, taking what she wants, it's like watching her heal in real time.
"Faster?" I manage to ask, my hands sliding up to her hips, guiding without controlling. She nods, biting her lip in that way that drives me insane, and picks up the pace. The mats creak under us, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps that echo in the empty space.
Sweat beads on her forehead, glistening on her curvy figure, and I can't help but admire how she looks—strong, confident, utterly gorgeous. Her breasts bounce with each movement, straining against the tight sports bra, and I reach up to cup one, thumbing over the nipple through the fabric.
She moans, arching into my touch, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
I feel like I’m in heaven, watching her bounce and ride me, the pleasure building between us, and I know it won’t be long before we both come undone.
Her eyes flutter closed, mumbling nonsense as she’s chasing her high while bringing me closer to mine, and I know neither of us is going to last at this rate towards blissfulness.
She rides me harder, the rhythm shifting from playful to desperate, her movements growing less measured, more frantic.
Each time she sinks down, her cries sharpen, her hands clutching at my chest for leverage.
Every slide of her heat over my cock is a new kind of heaven, her slick so wet and abundant it coats my length, pooling where our bodies meet.
I'm close—fuck, I'm so close—but I want her to get there first, to feel her shatter apart on me, for once to know she's in complete control.
She leans forward, bracing her arms on either side of my head, orange curls tumbling down to frame her face.
Sweat beads along her jaw, lashes sticky with it, but she's never looked more alive, more powerful.
Her eyes lock onto mine, pupils blown, irises burning with that impossible autumn gold.
I can't look away, even as my vision blurs with need.
"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" My voice is low, rasped raw, barely more than a growl. The words land, and she whimpers, hips stuttering as the wave builds. Her scent spikes, vanilla and sugar and something sharper, more primal—