28. Kira
28
KIRA
“Alright, love. The ribbon is in place outside, and I tested the giant scissors. They work perfectly, no embarrassing and awkward fumbling with oversized scissors for my little pest.”
Ren presses a kiss to the top of my head as I peel the back of the temporary glitter freckles off my cheeks and nose, leaving a sparkle of silver in its wake. The shiny freckles match perfectly with my pink and silver iridescent sports bra and bike shorts and my hot pink rhinestone cycling shoes.
Today is the grand re-opening of Spin Sync under my ownership, and I want to look as bright on the outside as I feel on the inside. Right now, in this moment, I have never been happier. I have my best friends, my Ren, my family. I have my business and my fish son.
And just yesterday, a judge ruled that Jonathan Graham had to pay both me and Ren a significant chunk of change for all the shit he pulled.
With the discovery of my stolen journal, our lawyers were able to prove that Spin Sync and most of its elements had in fact been my intellectual property. Everything Jonathan did to start the company was a violation of that stolen IP, and by selling the company to Ren under false pretenses, he was committing fraud. We technically could have asked for criminal charges, but the pathetic, dejected look on Jonathan’s snotty and tear-stained face when the judge swung his gavel and ruled in my favor was all I needed to quench my thirst for revenge.
Well, the look on his face and the multi-million dollar check he was ordered to write out to me. That certainly helps too.
Smiling at the memory, I check myself out in the mirror, popping a hip and posing next to the instructor bike on the stage of Studio B.
Technically, not much has changed around here. So much of the building and studio were already the product of my vision, but I took time over the last few weeks to revamp the strength and yoga studios to fit more students and give them the same customizable lighting options that we have in the bike and tread studios.
Every studio got an equipment upgrade, replacing the worn-in bikes and treadmills that have seen their fair share of miles with brand new ones. I also expanded the lobby cafe, doubling the number of menu items and building extra space for local restaurants and wellness brands to host pop-ups for our members. And here in my favorite studio, gold-plated plaques sit in front of the first three bikes on my right, each one reading “Property of The Pussy Posse”, a permanent shout out to my platonic soulmates.
And even though we stayed open throughout the renovations, I insisted on a re-opening ceremony now that it’s all done. I’ve always wanted to cut a ribbon with those giant scissors.
“Thanks, babe. I couldn’t have done all of this without you,” I say, reaching up to give him a peck on his bearded cheek.
“Yes, you could have, darling.”
“I know. I totally could have, but “I couldn’t have done this without you” is the polite thing to say when your boyfriend tapes a giant ribbon to the front door of your business.”
He swats my ass, and I squeal, shivering at the contact of his palm against my backside.
“There is one thing you can’t do without me,” he says, stepping in close to press his growing erection into my hip. I moan, licking my lips.
“And what is that, Ren?”
“You can’t christen your favorite studio all by yourself. And look at you, all shiny and sparkly in your outfit. I think my precious little pest needs a jeweled cock to match her bejeweled ensemble. ”
He reaches behind me, finding the knob that adjusts the height of the bike seat and twisting it until the seat drops low.
“Clip in,” he commands, nodding to the bike. A shiver runs through me as I turn, sliding my cleats into the pedals until they click, securing me to the bike. The seat is too low for me to sit, which I realize now was Ren’s intention. With no other choice, I hold on to the handlebars and lean forward, pushing my hips back. Ren steps in behind me, smoothing his hands over my ass in slow, hypnotizing circles.
“Once upon a time, you tortured me in this room. Do you remember Kira? Did you enjoy having me at your mercy, your toy in my ass, playing with me while you taught, the rest of the class none the wiser to my agony?” He dips his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, and he peels them down. The cool air hits my burning flesh, and a whimper escapes my lips.
“Answer me, love.”
“I remember. I loved it. I loved watching you ache for me. It was so hot, babe.”
He settles my leggings on my thighs and slides a hand between them, his hand making contact with my bare pussy, since I skipped the panties this morning.
“You’re wet just thinking about it,” he murmurs as his fingers dance through my folds, gliding close to my clit but never making contact.
“I’m wet because you’re looking at me. ”
His finger dips into my entrance, only to the first knuckle.
“One day, Kira. One day I will get my revenge. I’ll shove a plug in your ass and a vibrator in your cunt and make you get up here on this bike and try to do your job. And I won’t be as kind as you were. I won’t edge you. I’ll sit right over there on my bike and watch as my vibrator brings you to your peak. I’ll watch as you wiggle and squirm and try to keep a straight face so that no one but me knows that you’re coming in your sweet little leggings, soaking the toys and making a mess of yourself. And then I’ll do it again, and again, and again.”
His fingers find my clit and he rubs me in achingly slow circles. I moan, dropping my head to the handlebars as he teases me.
“But not today. Today, I’m going to fuck you just like this. My little pest locked in, stuck with no way out as I drive into her. Does that sound good, darling? Are you ready to be stuffed full of my cock?” His cloying, condescending tone has no right to be so sexy.
When he punctuates his question by driving three fingers into my soaked pussy, crooking them and massaging my most sensitive inner spot, I cry out a curse. My hips drive forward, but I’m bound by my shoes that are clipped into the pedals.
“Fuck, yes, Ren. Please, please, fuck me. I want you. I need to be full of you,” I plead, desperation lacing my voice as he works me with his fingers. I whine when he withdraws them, but they’re quickly replaced by the head of his perfect cock notching at my entrance. With me bent nearly in half and the bike seat at its lowest height, our bodies are perfectly aligned. He slams in in one swift thrust, the force of it threatening to knock me forward, but the grip he has on my hips keeps me steady.
“So perfect. So tight. You have the prettiest, wettest, warmest cunt. Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” The sound of his hips snapping against my ass echoes off the walls of the empty studio, creating an obscene soundtrack to our fucking. He slams into me relentlessly, his cock sliding deeper with each thrust as his piercings drag along my G-spot.
Each drive of his body into mine winds me higher, pulls me taut, makes me feel wild. He fists my ponytail, pulling my hair until my back arches and my body creates an angle for his cock that has me seeing spots. I moan and whine and curse, overcome by pleasure, paralyzed by Ren.
“I’m so– fuck –Ren. I need, I need,” I pant, unable to push past the lust coursing through me long enough to form a coherent thought. But Ren knows me, knows my body. He lets go of my hip, dropping his hand between my legs and finding my clit. He rubs me in time with his thrusts, chasing my orgasm right alongside me.
“That’s it Kira, come all over me. Soak my cock, love. Make it messy.”
My legs go numb as the pleasure builds and builds at the base of my spine. The coil in my gut snaps, and pleasure rocks through me, flooding my veins like warm honey as colors explode behind my eyes. I feel a gush of wetness rushing out of me as my orgasm ebbs and flows, leaving me trembling and breathless.
“Kira, fuck. Kira, Kira, Kira,” Ren chants as his thrusts become fast and sloppy, his own orgasm taking over. His hips still and on a low moan, he surrenders himself to the release. I feel each rope of cum as he empties himself inside of me, feeling the familiar warm tingles I get every time Ren turns me into his own personal cream puff. I don’t know if it’s the primal part of my monkey brain that thinks we’re procreating or some kind of Ren-specific hormones he leaves inside me with his cum, but I never feel fully sated until he’s finished inside me.
“Come on love,” he says between soft kisses on my spine as we both return to Earth. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’ve got a grand opening to host.”
An hour later, I fulfill my dream and cut the big red ribbon outside of Spin Sync with a pair of giant scissors while a crowd of my supporters pierce my ears with their cheers. Rachel, Dottie and Georgie are here by my side, offering me their unwavering support as I begin this new venture.
My dads, Dean and Tía Camila are at the front of the crowd, their cheers and applause ringing the loudest. The entire Spin Sync team is here, including Jeslyn, who has officially relocated from New York and will be heading up the row team. The rest of the crowd is made up of our loyal members, some of whom have flown in from all over the country to be here for this inaugural event.
After the podcast drama and my confessional class, most of the members that I thought we’d lost for good came back. I met them with forgiveness and open arms, because even though the loss of their support hurt in the moment, my goal for Spin Sync has always been to create a welcoming environment. And I, unlike them, don’t write people off based on one decision or the words of others.
The lights in Studio B are a bright shade of pink as I mount my instructor bike with a cold brew in hand, ready to teach my Saturday Killa Sixty class. Ren and I cleaned up after our earlier tryst, but even though the evidence of our fun is long gone, I still feel a thrill when I sit down, knowing what this poor bike saw just this morning.
“Killa, we’re live in forty-five seconds. Get. Rid. Of. The. Coffee.” Jackie chastises in my earpiece, because some things never change. I might be the Head Bitch In Charge now, but I still do what the production team says. I wink at the camera, knowing that Jackie is upstairs rolling her eyes at me as I bring the cup to my lips and the class starts to chant.
CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!
A production assistant runs onto the stage as I finish off the last of my coffee, stealing the empty cup and ducking out of frame just as the cameras turn on and the feed goes live. Elton John’s “The Bitch Is Back” starts to pump through the speakers, and I throw my hands into the air in celebration as the room fills with music and applause.
Here in this room that I own, with my girls and my family and the man I love, I finally feel a sense of peace. I’m exactly where I belong.
“Welcome to hell, Spin Sync!”