Chapter 32
“Do I have to?” Morgan asks, pleading with the cutest puppy dog eyes that I almost say no.
Almost.
Folding my arms across my chest, I feign the drill sergeant she once claimed I was weeks ago. Jesus, it feels like it’s been both a single day and a lifetime with this woman. “It’s two pull-ups, baby. Just two. With the resistance band.”
Morgan crosses her arms, not backing down. “Must I remind you that the last time I did a singular pull-up with said resistance band, it ended with me falling on my ass? And now you want me to do two?”
“False,” I say, leaning down, leveling our gazes. “It ended with you falling on me and your tits in my face.” Straightening, my eyes look to the ceiling in pure fucking nostalgia. “It’s one of my fondest memories.”
She swats my arm, scolding, “Jiho, not so loud.”
Quickly, I snatch her hand and kiss her palm. “Seriously, baby, I’m so fucking proud of you. You ran a ten-minute mile, and you’ve increased your reps by fifty percent across the board. With pull-ups, your baseline is one. Do two, and that’s a one-hundred percent gain. That’ll make you a certified badass.”
Her lips purse in an effort to hide her smile, not wanting to give me the satisfaction. Little does Morgan know—actually, she definitely knows—that’s my favorite dick-hardening, satisfaction-giving look of hers.
Goddammit. I’ve made it this long without fucking my girlfriend in the Flex Factory, but tonight might be the night I finally give in. This is her last week stateside and her last day at this particular gym. She’ll be too busy packing to come here. Meaning it’s now or fucking never.
No, bad dick. Down, boy.
There are still people in here finishing up Kelsey’s last evening yoga class. Yeah, that’s right—fucking Kelsey’s fucking back. After the shitshow that was Jina’s birthday party, Kelsey made the apologetic rounds again with everyone, including me, promising, Like, I’ve totally changed. I, like, swear, Jiho.
I wanted to refuse like John did, but I accepted only because Morgan asked me to. Jina made no such request of John because they’re not fucking talking.
According to Morgan, she’s mad at him for ruining her birthday, and John’s mad at Jina for recklessly making out with some stranger. Honestly, I can see both sides.
But also? I don’t fucking care.
The only thing I care about is my girlfriend in her skin-tight gym clothes, still trying to hold back a smile.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I murmur, “You need to stop looking at me like that and get on the bar.”
Mischief settles on Morgan’s face as she closes our distance, her breasts barely skimming my chest. “Like what, baby?”
My brain short-circuits, all the blood rushing straight to my dick, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks for the divine inspiration to wear compression shorts under my loose ones.
Yes, I’ve kept my newfound religion. Why wouldn’t I when the Big Guy keeps coming through in clutch in moments like this?
It takes every ounce of willpower in my brain of mush to not react and keep a straight face.
“Fine,” Morgan says, finally giving in. Her look of mischief turns into a pout. “Will you at least help me onto the bar?”
Smirking, I drawl, “My pleasure.” Relief settles in with winning this battle, but the real fun comes in surrendering the war later tonight.
Seconds later, my hands grip Morgan’s waist and lift, waiting to release her until she has a firm grip on the bar and a stable footing on the resistance band. On my mark, she lowers and then lifts. Lowers and lifts. And proceeds to lower and lift five more times.
“Look at you, baby. Officially the baddest of asses,” I praise when her arms lockout and she doesn’t lift. “Can you do three more and get to ten?”
“Yeah, that’s not the problem,” she mutters, her voice uneasy as her eyes dart between me and the far side of the gym. “She’s watching us again.”
My gaze follows hers, landing on Kelsey, staring at us like we’re her favorite fucking freakshow. She’s been doing it for days now since Jina hired her back. Apology aside, it’s creepy as fuck.
“I know, I know, just ignore her,” Morgan adds in a mocking tone—what I’ve been telling her to do the whole week.
But now I’ve fucking had it. “No, not this time. If she wants to stare, let’s give her something to look at.” I move in front of Morgan and jump, grabbing onto the bar, kissing her nose. “Wrap those perfect legs around me, baby.”
That sexy, little mischievous look reappears on her face as her legs ease around me. “I think I know where this is going. On the count of three?”
I send a wink her way. “One, two, three.” My muscles contract along with Morgan’s, pulling the both of us to the top of the bar, lips meeting at the top. And just like that, we take the title of cheesiest fucking couple alive.
But it works—after two more reps and two more kisses. I drop down from the bar first, promptly helping Morgan, only to spot Kelsey booking it for the door, following the herd of yogis.
“Hey, you disgusting love birds.”
Morgan and I both turn to find Jina walking towards us with a tortured look on her face—her constant fucking companion since her fight with John.
“Hey, Jina,” Morgan says cheerfully but carefully. “Sorry, we were just playing around.”
My sister sighs, trying to seem unbothered. “It’s fine. It’s past nine on a Sunday night, and no one else is here. I’m going to close up early. I’m…tired.”
“I don’t mind closing for you,” I offer, shrugging casually.
Jina perks up with a weak smile. “Really?”
“Yeah. Go get some rest. You do look really tired.”
Her smile disappears. “Thanks, Oppa. That’s what every woman wants to hear.” Scrubbing a hand over her face, she adds, “But I’ll take it, thanks,” and tosses me the spare keys. Chances are, she already knew I’d offer like the biggest fucking chump that I am.
She stalks to the doors, flips the open sign to closed , then spins on her heel to face us. Pointing first at Morgan, then me, she snaps, “Bleach. Twice.”
Turning my wrist, I smoothly and masterfully flip her the fuck off.
“Whatever that means,” Morgan mumbles when the door shuts behind Jina, the automatic lock engaging with a click. She stretches slowly, arms reaching skyward, and winces when soreness bites back. “Baby, do you mind if I use the sauna for a bit before we head home? If I don’t, I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”
I know she didn’t mean it in a dirty way, but it’s exactly how my misfired brain took it. Dirty as fuck. Suddenly, bleaching twice doesn’t sound so bad. “Not at all. I think I’ll join you.”
***
Morgan probably thought she’d step into the sauna, bask in the heat, and melt onto one of the wooden benches—and she did. For as long as it took me to tear her fucking clothes from her sweat-licked, heat-flushed body.
Now she’s naked, melting onto the bench for a different reason—legs parted, with me kneeling in front of her, worshipping her like she deserves after crushing those goals today.
She leans back on the bench, one hand braced behind her, the other tangled in my hair, pulling my head harder against her, begging for more. And I’ll always give more.
Flicking my tongue over her clit, slow and deliberate, she lets out a desperate moan. Fuck, that’s hot.
“Jiho,” she gasps, breathless, wrecked. Hips writhing with every stroke of my tongue. “I’m… I’m already so close.”
“Do you want to come, Morgan?” I ask, my voice like gravel, her pussy clenching from my breath against her sensitive skin.
“God, yes, Jiho. Please,” she begs loudly.
I hum in approval against her, dragging the flat of my tongue up her seam before circling back to her clit. The vibration makes her legs tighten around me, but I don’t fucking stop. Not when she’s about to fall apart like this, just for me. Not when every ragged breath she takes is my name on a prayer.
But her prayer turns into a whimper when I suck her clit back into my mouth, teasing her with just the right amount of pressure. Her head thumps back against the wall, chest heaving, nipples flushed and tight in the heat.
Her breaths come in needy little pants. “Right there, baby. Don’t stop. Please.”
I don’t respond with words—words require that I stop, and my Queen just commanded me not to. Instead, I let my tongue talk for me, working her clit at the same diligent pace. But it’s when I add a finger that Morgan’s legs start to shake. And when I add another, her moaning my name turns into the screaming I love to hear.
I risk the words, “Come on my tongue, baby. I want to taste you coming apart.”
She listens so well because, holy fuck, she comes. Wild and goddamn beautiful. Hips jerking, breath catching, her thighs clamping around my head like she’s trying to suffocate me. Which, as I said before, would be a pretty solid way to go, and I’ll fucking die on that hill.
Her cries bounce off the wood-paneled walls, and I can feel her clenching, pulsing, riding it out while I keep licking. Softer and slower now, helping her down gently.
When she finally slumps against the bench, I press one last kiss to her inner thigh, sliding in beside her. I wrap my arms around her then, pulling her hot, flushed body onto my lap, straddling me in the way I know brings her to life.
Her eyes flutter open as she runs a hand along my jaw, leaning in to kiss me, her tongue exploring my mouth slowly and lazily. Like we have all the time in the fucking world, not six more days.
Six more days… Fuck.
Six more days, and then it’s weeks and months before I get to taste her again, to feel her pussy, warm and wet just for me around my cock. To hold her in my arms and tell her I love her.
And just like that, goddamn sorrow claws at my chest, my heart, my fucking mind, blanched only by a fierce, intrinsic need for her. To be inside her and to know for the millionth fucking time that this is real. That she’s real.
Mouths still entwined, I sit straighter, my hands gripping her ass and lifting just enough to pull her onto my cock in one swift, hard motion.
A gasp from Morgan tangles with a guttural groan from me. “Fuck, Morgan. You’re so wet and perfect.” I lift her again, withdrawing to the tip before pulling her back down to the hilt, ringing another sweet sound from her lips as she throws her head back. “Tell me I’m yours, baby. Tell me I’m the only one who can give this pussy what it needs.”
Her head levels with mine, golden-brown eyes, heavy-lidded and dazed, gazing straight into my goddamn soul.
“You’re mine, Jiho,” she pants, hips rolling in a steady, agonizing rhythm. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and you are the only one who can give my pussy what it needs.”
Something in me snaps, needing more and fucking more. Leaning forward, I take one of her peaked, hard nipples into my mouth, tongue flicking only once before Morgan’s hand on my chest pushes me back against the bench.
“What about your cock, baby?” she moans on another slow, deep grind. Holy fuck. “Am I the only one who can give it what it needs?”
How can she even ask me that? Because, God, what a view. Leaning back, I see all of her. Every hill and valley. Every shift of her curves when she writhes on top of me. And every second I take her in, my cock grows harder and thicker inside her.
Trailing a hand to her center, I press my thumb against her clit, massaging it slowly, her pace quickening with the touch. “Isn’t it obvious, Morgan? You’re the only one who can get me this hard.”
She shakes her head, moaning, “Prove it.”
Without hesitation, I grip her hips, twist us, and lay her flat against the sauna floor, her back meeting the warm wood with a surprised gasp. Legs wrapping around my waist like instinct, I slam into her, deep and desperate, my hands framing her face.
“Oh my God, Jiho,” she cries out, back arched, throat exposed. Fuck, I kiss her there. Bite her there. Because I can’t help myself. Because I’m losing my goddamn mind, and she’s the only thing keeping me sane.
Sweat drips from my temple onto her chest, our slick bodies sliding together as I pound into her. Her fingernails rake down my back, thighs tightening, locking me in place like she never wants to let go.
And that thought—that she has to let go. That she will go. It fucking ruins me.
My thrusts turn frantic, rough, and relentless, carving the memory of this moment into both our bodies. Hoping if I fuck her hard enough, neither of us will forget that this is real. That we are real.
“I’m going to miss you,” I rasp, forehead pressing against hers. “I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to live without this. Without you.”
Morgan’s eyes open—glassy, wide, and wondering—and she cups my face like I’m something fragile, about to fall apart.
“I’ll miss you too,” she whispers, tears pooling beneath her lashes. “But I’m here now, and I’m yours. So take me.”
“I don’t want to let you go,” I whisper against her skin, my voice breaking.
Her answer is simple, but filled with sadness all the same. “So don’t.”