21. Warren
21
WARREN
“Do you want to take my ride in studio this morning?” Kira calls out from her ensuite bathroom while I remain snuggled in a few of the thousands of blankets she keeps on her bed.
She was already up and showered by the time I woke up, which was a little disappointing because I’ve grown quite fond of the slow, sleepy sex she typically craves first thing in the morning. I even tolerate the guided meditations she makes us do afterwards.
But when she brought me a cappuccino to drink in bed, all was forgiven.
“Your Saturday Killa Sixty class? There’s a bike available?” I call back, a little shocked. Kira’s Saturday morning time slot on the bike is by and far the most popular class offered at Spin Sync. I’m the damn CEO and even I haven’t been able to book a bike during my tenure .
“No, but I can bump someone. I’ve got a really fun playlist today, and it could be an excellent opportunity for Spin Sync members in the studio and at home to get more face time with you.”
“That’s sweet, darling, but I don’t want you to bump someone for me. But I can still come in and watch from the production room.”
She pokes her head through the door frame, looking stunning in just my shirt and nothing else. Half of her hair is down in her typical messy curls, while the other half has already been carefully tied into tiny braids that I know she’s going to pull back into a ponytail when she’s finished.
“It’s alright. I’ll bump HotPapi69. He doesn’t follow my cues. It gets on my nerves. Plus, he’s a creep. He’s got an entire social media page dedicated to zoomed-in shots of my camel toe. As if it’s my fault that my voluptuous pussy lips love to eat nylon bike shorts.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? He’s doing what? Yes, bump HotPapi69 immediately, love.” And I will be making sure he’s banned from the premises and the app from now on. Fucking guy.
“Perfect. You’ll be in the front row, right to my left. I love having you in class, I feel like I work harder when I’m trying to kill you.”
Yeah, perfect.
Suck on that camel toe, HotPapi69. I make a note to do a search of all the instructors online and ban anyone posting similar pictures. I realize our platform exists on the internet and I can’t control everything, but I should do as much as I can to protect all of my employees.
And on that sobering thought, I reluctantly roll out of bed to start getting ready.
Even though Kira has a class to teach in the strength studio before her Saturday Killa Sixty, I’ll go in early with her and watch from the production room. I’ve learned that any class taught by Kira that involves lifting weights is my favorite kind to watch. She’s just so lovely standing there in the center of the room with no bike or treadmill hiding her body. I love watch the way she dances between sets, and I think I’ve developed some sort of bicep-specific fetish because I’m obsessed with watching the muscles in her arms strain and flex as she works.
After I’ve slipped into some tracksuit bottoms and trainers, I step into the bathroom to brush my teeth while Kira finishes up her hair.
“Hey, Ren?” She asks as I run a brush over my teeth and wrap my free hand around her waist. I lift my brows in the mirror, letting her know without words that I’m listening.
“Do you remember the other night when I was sucking you off and I started playing with your ass?”
“Mmmm,” I growl around a mouthful of toothpaste, squeezing her waist. Do I remember? I nearly shot off the bed from how hard I came. My cock perks up just at the thought of her choking on it while she slipped a finger inside me .
“And then I asked if you’d ever let me…”
She trails off, and I lean over her shoulder to quickly spit into the sink so that I can finish her sentence for her.
“You asked if I’d ever let you fuck me with a dildo, and I nearly wept with joy? Yes, darling. I remember. To be honest, I’ve thought of very little else since then.” I press my growing erection into the firm globes of her ass, and she wiggles maniacally.
“So, if I say I want to do it today?” She asks with a cock of her brow.
“Then I’d say call in sick to work and get into bed.” I yank her off her feet and start to walk backwards toward the bedroom. She shrieks when I flop us back onto the mattress and begin tickling her sides.
“Ren! Stop! Oh my god, not now! I have to go to work!” She protests through a fit of giggles and I let her wiggle free from my grasp. She sits on the edge of the bed, and I push up to my elbows.
“Fine. But you need to know I will be sporting the world’s most obvious hard-on all day now that you’ve planted that idea in my head.”
“About that,” she purrs mischievously, “When was the last time you’ve had more than your own finger—or mine—up there?”
I think for a moment. Ass play isn’t something I typically get into with casual partners. It’s always felt too intimate for a hookup. So that means…
“It’s been a few years. Ten or so. ”
“Exactly,” she says, leaning over to rifle through her nightstand. “Which means you are going to need some prep if you’re going to take me.”
She pulls out a bottle of lube and sets it on the mattress between us, followed by a rose-colored toy with an intimidating-but-doable-looking shaft on one end and a bulbous tip with a set of vibrating rabbit ears on the other. Then, she holds up a small silicone plug with a curved tip and a flared base between us. I groan as I palm myself, my cock hard and leaking at just the thought of how good her toys will feel inside me.
“I want you to wear this plug in class today. I want you on the bike right in front of me, and I want to know that you’re all filled up for me, aching and writhing while you try to keep it together for the cameras. I want to see how good you can be for me, if you can toe the line of pleasure and pain. I want you to get nice and ready so that afterwards, I can take you to my office and fuck you on my desk. Does that sound like a good time to you, Ren?”
She leans into me and presses a kiss to the edge of my jaw, then licks a line straight up and down my throat. I didn’t think my cock could get any harder, but I’m pretty sure I could cut glass with the damn thing if I pulled it out right now. It’s solid and aching and pressing into the soft curve of Kira’s hip, and fuck. I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I can only nod frantically and try to wrangle the plug from her hand .
“Fucking hell, little pest. It sounds like the best time ever.”
Fucking hell, this was a terrible idea.
I’ve been sitting on this bike seat cycling for what feels like three hours, and we’re still only in the pre-show. Spinning is a tough enough form of cardio as it is. Add in the sexy music, Kira’s gorgeous tits that are being pushed up to her chin by her sports bra bouncing a few feet away from me, and– oh, right, the fucking plug in my ass that’s teasing my prostate with every pedal stroke–and I’m already struggling to reign in my breath and my racing heart rate before class officially begins.
The only thing I can think at the moment besides ‘don’t come, don’t come, don’t fucking come’ is that my padded bike shorts are both a blessing and a curse. I’m thankful that they’re tight under my looser running shorts so that I’m not showing off my bulge to the camera pointed at me across the room, but they’ve also got my cock trapped against my thigh in a way that is creating a painfully exquisite friction.
When Kira came into the room, I watched her clip her cycling shoes into the bike and pull the toy’s remote out of her pocket and set it on the small ledge under her bike’s tablet, out of my view. The movement was slick, like she was performing a slight-of-hand trick. I’m sure I only clocked it because I was watching out for it.
She hasn’t touched the remote since, and the anticipation is fucking torture. Knowing that at any moment, the toy that’s already threatening to send me over the edge could start to vibrate and I’ll have to somehow keep it together has a knot forming in my stomach.
A production assistant passes by me, taking away Kira’s cold brew coffee as the other people in the room who aren’t currently being tortured chant for her to chug. She tips her head back, her throat working deliciously as she finishes off the coffee and—Christ. I’m never going to make it through this.
“Welcome to hell, Spin Sync! My name is Kira McKenna, also known as your worst damn nightmare, and you are here for your Saturday Killa Sixty ride. Today’s playlist is explicit, hip-hop, club rat, get your dick sucked music, okay? Sucias session, baby! If you haven’t grabbed headphones and you got babies in the room, kick them out! It’s not a child friendly ride today, okay? I’m trying to get you wet and I don’t just mean with sweat. If you’re not climbing bae like a tree when this class is done, I didn’t do my job. If you ain’t got a bae, you better be climbing yourself like a tree, baby. Self-love is self-care. Booty on the widest part of the saddle, lets fuck it up!”
The lights go down and the first working song starts to play and…fuck. This pesky little minx is already fucking with me. The song is asking if someone is going to match this nasty girl’s freak, and Kira is already rolling her body and to the music.
Yup. This was a terrible, awful, no-good idea.
As the class goes on, the torture continues. Each song is sexier than the next. Each time Kira looks back at the mirror behind her to check out her own ass, I die a little inside. She’s so confident and sexy. She knows she’s got me by the balls right now, and she’s loving it.
Torturous as the feeling may be, it’s also incredibly heady and delicious. The cardiovascular expenditure, the stimulation, the sweat dripping down my chest–it’s all so akin to being in bed, burying myself inside Kira’s body. Or I suppose, in this case, having her burying herself in me. It’s like Kira and I are fucking without even touching. The only thoughts in my head are carnal, sexy ones, and the brain fog it’s inducing is like the best drug.
“Alright, who’s ready to climb?” Kira calls out, her voice cutting through the haze I’m in and bringing me back to reality for a moment. She cues the class to stand up and ride out of the saddle, and I follow along. Baby Got Back by Sir-Mix-A Lot plays through the speakers, because of course it does. Either Kira switched out whatever playlist she’d originally intended for this class when I agreed to wear the plug, or she masterminded this whole situation long before she pulled the damn toy out of her nightstand.
I refuse to believe it’s all just a happy accident. Especially not when Sir-Mix-A Lot raps about a butt making him so horny and Kira throws me a cheeky me a wink. Even though I know it’s coming, the buzz of the toy inside me nearly knocks me off my feet. It’s a damn good thing my shoes are clipped into these pedals, or else I’m sure I’d be hitting the floor right about now.
“Goddammit,” I mutter under my breath.
“For those of you don’t know, our fearless leader is here in class, our CEO Warren Yates. He’s also my boyfriend. I didn’t tell him how class was gonna go when I convinced him to join this morning, so you know he’s going through it right now. Wave to Camera C, babe!” Kira points to the red light on the opposite side of the room and at the same time, presses a button to increase the vibration of the plug, all the while pedaling out of her seat, still not having broken a sweat.
I grimace, trying to hide the mixture of awkward discomfort and intense pleasure. I manage a small wave towards the camera, praying that the production team upstairs will soon switch views.
“Aww, everyone look at my Ren. He’s having so much fun, he can’t even talk,” Kira says, giggling before cueing the class to have a seat and recover from the effort.
Only there is no recovery for me. Sitting down makes the plug shift, pressing even closer to my prostate and causing me to shiver. I exhale a shaky breath, thankful that the pumping bass of the studio’s sound system is muting the sound of the vibration on the bike seat. My whole body is tingling and on edge, flames licking at my skin. My cock is aching and leaking under my clothes, and I truly don’t know if I’ll be able to make it through the next twenty-five minutes without spilling in my shorts.
My body is teetering on the edge of release and I’m about to accept the fact that I’m going to have to muscle through the rest of the class with cum leaking in my pants when the vibration is suddenly gone. I can’t help it–I gasp at the relief.
“Ren, babe. Don’t get too excited, we’ve still got more than half the class to go.”
Kira winks at me again and continues with her instruction as if nothing happened, and I try to hold on to whatever shred of sanity I have left in me.
As it turns out, all the hippy-dippy meditation bullshit Kira has had us doing every morning after sex has finally come in handy. Moments after we pass the halfway point in class, I settle into some sort of higher plane of thinking. It’s something akin to a runner’s high, but instead of the pain turning into bliss, the edge of arousal is melting through me like warm honey. Me, the plug, and my cock have all become one. I am not on the verge of an orgasm; the orgasm is on the verge of me.
I’m not sure that makes sense, but my brain is operating at too high a level for me to understand. By the time we cruise into the final minutes of class, I’ve begun to understand those people who forgo sex and masturbation for the sake of mental clarity. I feel strong, powerful, and so insanely hot. I feel like I could punch through concrete and run four marathons. I feel like me and my leaking cock could take on the world. I don’t ever want to lose this sense of being.
Even when Kira tries to kill me with the way she flips her ponytail braids to the beat of the music, I manage to keep my composure. When she starts doing tap backs on the bike seat, highlighting her strong glutes and causing the gold chains around her neck to bounce off her cleavage, I reach a state of Zen that would make Buddha himself jealous. And when a woman starts rapping about her wet ass pussy as Kira leads the class up the final hill, shaking and wiggling her hips with every downstroke of the pedals, I think I might be able to transcend.
“You okay, man?” The guy on the bike next to me snaps in my face. I shake my head and look around, realizing that I’m the only person still on their bike. The rest of the class has dismounted and are in various states of stretching as Kira leads them through the end.
“Right, yeah. Thank you,” I mumble to my bike mate before locking eyes with my Kira.
Wrong move. One look into those stormy gray eyes and I’ve lost my nirvana. I watch her tongue slip out and run over her puffy pink bottom lip, and I’m entranced. My groin pulses, my balls ache, and when I click my feet out of the pedals, the plug brushes against my prostate. A low growl rumbles in my chest. Now that I’ve returned to Earth, there’s very little stopping me from dropping to my knees and begging Kira to finish me off right here in front of everyone. She must see the snap of my control, because she lowers her eyes into slits and mouths the words ‘my office’.
I waste no time heading toward the elevator, eagerly waiting for what comes next.