Chapter 11
KAEDE
Iwas thinking more about the pulse mode on my shower head . . .
Those words have haunted me all night, turning my dreams into an erotic mix of images, tastes, sights, and sounds. And I have a significant bank of Courtney saved from over the years.
The feeling of her lips, the way her tongue met mine with such hunger. As much as I’ve felt for a while, last night was a shot of Fireball straight to my dick.
The sight of her dancing in class, the way her ass flexes as she works herself up and down, the way she could use those same muscles to ride my cock.
The satin skin on her lower back and the soft, invisible little hairs there that had me wanting to explore deeper and lower . . . with my tongue.
The way her eyes looked, the moans she made when I found that spot on her neck . . .
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I kick off the sheets at five in the morning, heading to the bathroom, my dick leading the way.
The water hits my neck and shoulders, beating back soreness but not helping with the images in my head. The faint scent of soap has me wondering what Courtney’s shower smells like . . . and what she looked like with her showerhead.
With that picture coming to life in my mind, I reach down to wrap my fist around my aching hardness, which jumps in my grip. I stroke fast and hard, my eyes falling shut as my brain overloads with my fantasies.
Courtney’s here, in the shower with me . . . tits pressed against the tile and that ass pressed back as she comes on my cock . . . calling out my name.
“Fuck! Court!” I curse through gritted teeth as I explode, my cock spewing shot after shot of my thick cream.
I thump my forehead against the tile, still pumping until the last droplet’s squeezed out.
I pant, still just as frustrated because I know, deep in my soul, that actually being with Courtney would be so much better than any fantasy I can create.
I can’t wait to see her again.
I head to One Life, and things are a bit closer to normal with Ross and me, but I have this nagging sense of guilt over kissing Courtney.
It doesn’t make sense. We’re all adults, and Ross has got to know that will happen to sell this setup.
But a little smooch is one thing while what we did last night is another.
We’re both hurting after yesterday’s Beast Mode session, so we take it light, doing some mobility work for our shoulders and hips and then some abs.
We’re lying on the floor, grunting our way through our third set of Russian twists with heavy medicine balls, when something catches my eye. Or more precisely, someone.
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath.
“What?” Ross says, taking the hint and keeping quiet.
I keep doing twists, not wanting to seem like I’ve even noticed her. “Missy. AJ. Two o’clock. Be discreet.”
Ross laughs as though I said something funny. He’s good at acting normal when shit’s flying. He’s learned the hard way through experience.
“What are they doing? Are you seeing this? No! Don’t look, that’s what she wants.
” Ross is right, and I lie flat on the floor, my eyes on the ceiling while he does a few more twists so he can spy.
“AJ has her in the splits with her front leg lifted on a squat bench. I will say . . . she’s very .
. . flex-i-ble.” He looks down at me, his brow lifted. “You sure you’re not feeling that?”
I frown hard. “No.”
“On the move,” Ross says.
We force ourselves through more abs than we’d planned while we keep an eye on Missy . . . and AJ.
Missy alternates eye-fucking me from across the room and turning to stick her ass my way.
Every time she bends forward to touch her toes, her tiny shorts creep higher.
Every guy in the gym is following her with his eyes, damn near drooling.
Several of the women are starting to look angry or disgusted.
“Wonder if ‘Daddy’ knows what she’s up to while she’s doing her research.”
“Either way, it can’t keep happening.” Ross sounds on the verge of stalking over right here and now. We’ve got rules in place for the gym, dress codes. And she’s breaking them.
“I agree. AJ seems to be handling it pretty well, though, don’t you think?” I am proud of my training team, and AJ is my best. While Missy is flirting with him and he’s engaging with her banter and desire for Cirque du Soleil level stretches, he’s staying impressively professional.
Missy spreads her legs wide in a straddle stretch and lays her chest forward to the floor.
AJ moves behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and pressing her forward even more.
She reaches her arms toward me even though I’m across the gym, and when she sees me and Ross watching, she gives me a salacious wink.
AJ must say something about her feet because she slowly flexes them, increasing the stretch even more.
I can almost hear wood popping all over the gym . . . ping, pew, boom. Different sound effects for different folks, ya know.
Ross and I get up, putting our medicine balls away.
AJ coaches Missy through several more flexibility moves.
Staying quiet even though there are no members around, I tell Ross, “We don’t have kids running around up here, but her outfits are getting smaller and smaller.
She’s damn near falling out of that top, a breath away from a nip slip, and you can see her pussy trying to eat those shorts. Munch-munch-munch. I’ll talk to her.”
“No, it needs to come from me,” Ross says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “If it comes from you, it’s going to seem personal, another brush-off, and we can’t afford that. You need to watch your back. She’s definitely still got you in her sights.”
“Thanks, man.”
“I’ll try to spin it positively. Maybe tell her it’s distracting staff, and that’s a safety issue.
Think she’ll take that as a compliment?” he says with the charming smile that has gotten him out of trouble his whole life.
“Besides, I know Kayla’s playing coy, but I have a feeling if she sees AJ talking to Missy while she’s bent up like a bendy straw, there might be an axe murder in the gym. And I don’t want to lose our two best.”
I ignore the Missy issue, praying and trusting that Ross can handle her without causing a trickle-up problem with Jeffrey. “You catching that vibe from AJ and Kayla too?” I ask, pleasantly distracted. It’s nice to think about someone else’s relationship issues for a hot second and not mine.
“Absolutely. Do we have a no fraternization policy? If not, we might need to get one for AJ’s sake,” Ross jokes. “Oh, before I forget . . . dinner tonight. My place.”
“What for?” I ask while mentally calculating how many Monsters I’m going to need to chug to get through a long day and a late night. I hate to drink them, though, so maybe I can catch a nap during the early afternoon down time instead. One of the perks of being the boss.
“You’ve got an announcement to make, remember? And so do I.”
“Not me. Courtney and I agreed to keep our whole deal quiet. Apparently, being an Andrews comes with some baggage, and being a female Andrews comes with an entire suite of it.”
Ross eyes me incredulously. “You think for one second that you, or Courtney, are going to keep this from Abi or Violet? And you think they’ll forgive any of us if you don’t tell them?
Fuck that, I like sleeping with my wife and not on the couch.
So dinner, my place, eight o’clock. I’ll make sure Court’s there, even if I have to call in a bomb threat to the office. ”
He’s got a point.
“Dinner tonight, then.”
I’ve been in Ross’s penthouse as much as in my own home.
It’s still the same place it was before he got married, but it feels different now.
No more cold bachelor pad—he was the king of contemporary minimalist design, even worse than me—but now it’s warm, partially from Violet’s amazing design skills, but mostly, it’s just her.
She has this joie de vivre about her and infuses everywhere she goes with that energy.
Plus, she’s a damn good cook who enjoys letting her inner chef out as often as possible. It’s not an every night thing, especially considering the late hours we all keep, but I know Ross has to work to keep the pounds from creeping in from Violet’s delicious family recipes.
As an ‘adopted’ member of the family, I get to reap the benefits of Nana Angela’s recipes too.
Tonight’s Mexican night, though, which seems to be the cause of Violet’s phone argument with her grandmother. “Nana, Ross loves my lasagna, but I can’t make it every night of the week!”
“Why? Who doesn’t like lasagna?” Angela asks. “If I have to come over there, I’m gonna—”
“Nana, we have guests,” Vi says, glancing over her shoulder and tossing us a thumbs-up. Like that’s going to stop Nana’s language. The woman gives zero fucks.
We all take sips of our beers and wines, not wanting to get in the middle of that battle. Violet can handle her Nana, but the rest of us will end up smacked with a rolling pin.
Almost the whole crew is already here tonight.
In addition to Ross and Violet, Abi’s here and seems to be enjoying the way Ross is flitting around the kitchen, helping wherever Violet lets him.
As Violet’s best friend and the secret orchestrator of their relationship, I think she feels some creative pride at their overwhelming cuteness.
Like damn swans in love, wrapping around each other, those two.
Violet’s assistant, Archie, is here too.
He’s been semi-adopted by everyone, mainly because he’s completely irreverent and says things that are completely wrong, but he’s also funny as hell.
“And you serve them that . . . that . . . that puttanata?”