10 - Jess
Jess
The shower door slammed against the hinge, and suddenly the stall was too small for the volume of Brock’s presence.
The spray soaked through his t-shirt in an instant, but the heat coming off him was more intense than the water.
His mouth collided with mine in a bruising, ravenous kiss that took my breath away.
The cold tiles were a shock of ice against my back.
Ice that vanished the moment his hands found me.
Nothing like the contained trainer talking me through reps.
His palms, rough and calloused from years of gripping iron, slid up from my waist to crush my breasts.
I let out a choked sound, my fingers digging into the wet fabric bunching on his shoulders.
David’s voice echoed in the back of my mind—loosen up—and I let the last of my reservations dissolve in the steam.
I wrapped my legs around Brock’s waist and pulled him into the cradle of my hips.
The friction of his gym shorts against my soaking pussy was a revelation.
He was rock-hard, a thick ridge of throbbing heat that ground against my clit with every jerk of his hips.
He groaned into my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of my neck as he fought the barrier of his clothes.
I slid my hand between us to find the straining mass of his cock. Even through his shorts, his size was daunting.
"Let me see it.” The words tripped over my tongue as the steam filled my lungs. "I wanna see you."
Brock stepped back, the water cascading over his face, his eyes dark with a primal, focused intensity.
He grabbed the hem of his shirt and ripped it over his head, discarding it into the corner of the stall.
His torso was a landscape of carved muscle.
Broad, sloping shoulders and a chest so thick it seemed to swallow the light.
Every ripple of his abs was a testament to the kind of discipline that bordered on obsession.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down.
“Jesus.” My gaze snagged on the sight.
His cock had sprung free, hitting his stomach with a heavy, wet thud. My breath left me in a rush. It was a masterpiece of anatomy, the skin stretched tight over a network of pulsing veins. It held a deep flush at the flared head, weeping a bead of pre-come that glistened under the shower light.
My pussy clenched in a series of needy spasms when he took himself in one hand, his fingers wrapping halfway around the shaft. He stroked himself, an excruciating slide that made the muscles in his thighs tense up.
“All it wants is to feel you, Jess.”
He stepped back into my space, the hot water beating down on the crown of his head. He looked like a god carved from stone, looming over me with a gravity that made my knees weak. He pressed the head of his cock against my stomach, the heat of it searing.
"I—I don't think..." I stammered, my voice a thready whimper against the roar of the water. "It’s too big."
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth, but his eyes remained locked in. "We’ll just have to make sure you’re ready for me.”
He dropped to his knees, his huge frame filling the narrow stall.
His hands caught the backs of my thighs and pulled me forward.
My right leg hiked over his shoulder, a move that opened me up with a terrifying efficiency.
I pressed my palms flat against the walls on either side of me as his face disappeared between my legs.
“Oh, God, Brock.”
The first touch of his tongue was a broad, hot stroke from my entrance to the very top of my clit.
I bit back a whiney cry, my head falling back against the tile.
He used his teeth to graze the sensitive hood before taking my clit into his mouth, sucking with such intensity it sent a jolt of electricity shooting through my legs.
A surge of arousal dripped out of me, and he lapped at the overflow, his tongue flicking with rapid-fire precision that had me squirming for more.
I was a mess of friction and heat. The steam rose around us in thick, suffocating clouds, but all I could feel was the texture of his relentless tongue.
Right as the pressure in my belly became a physical ache, a broad finger slid into my pussy. The intrusion was blunt and thick, stretching me in a way that made me suck in a strangled breath. He thrust deep, his finger hitting a spot deep inside that made my knees buckle.
“Almost there,” he breathed against my aching pussy. “Almost wet enough to take me.”
The certainty in his voice was the final blow, and my orgasm hit with the force of a landslide.
My body arched, every muscle locking as the first wave of pleasure tore through me.
I squeezed his shoulder with my thigh, my palms sliding against the wet walls as I fought to stay upright.
My legs shook, a violent, uncontrollable tremor that threatened to dump me onto the floor.
"That’s it," he murmured, peppering searing kisses to my inner thigh. "Take it. Work through it."
While the aftershocks were still rolling through me, he added a second finger. The stretch was sudden, an exquisite pressure that filled me to the brim. I cried out, a high, desperate sound that echoed off the glass.
"Easy," he praised, the same steady, encouraging tone he used when the weights got too heavy. "You’ve got this. You want to be ready for me, don't you?"
I nodded stiffly. I wanted him. I wanted the mass and the heat and the total occupation of my body.
"Open up for me. Just breathe."
His fingers were pistons, fucking me deeper and deeper into oblivion. For good measure, he put his mouth back on my clit, the combination of the two a sensory overload that pushed me back toward the ledge.
I looked down through the steam and the spray to see Brock jerking himself off with his free hand. The sight of that massive, veiny shaft sliding through his grip, weeping and rigid, was the final straw.
I came again, a long, drawn-out explosion that left me sobbing for air. He watched the whole thing, his fingers never slowing, his voice a constant, low-frequency stream of praise that guided me through the fire.
"That’s my girl. Just look at how good you’re doing."
His fingers slipped from my heat, the sudden absence leaving me hollow and cold despite the steam. I slumped into the tile, my lungs burning. I was done. But I was nowhere near finished.
"I think you’re ready for me now," he said, his voice a gravelly rasp that gave me goosebumps.
"Fuck me. I need you to fuck me now."
Brock stood, his presence eclipsing the light bleeding in from the locker room.
He spun me with the ease of someone moving a two-pound weight, my limbs useless from the two orgasms still rippling through my core.
He slammed my palms against the wall in front of me and hiked my left leg high, planting my foot against the tiles to open me wide.
I was a mess, held upright only by the pressure of his hands and the narrow confines of the stall.
I felt the blunt, hot tip of his cock at my entrance and sucked in a breath. Anticipation moved through me in quivering waves as he moved the head of his cock through my slick folds, painting me with his own pre-cum until the friction disappeared.
Then, he pressed.
My pained moan floated into the steam curling around us, and I tensed without trying. He was so fucking big.
The head of his cock forced my entrance wider with a scorching pressure. He stopped just as the girth hit a snag, his chest heaving with the effort it took to take it slow.
"God, Jess," he groaned, his breath hot against my ear. "You’re so fucking tight."
I let out a broken whimper, my forehead pressing into the cool tile. He didn't move yet, just stayed there. Let me feel the width of him stretching the very limit of my pussy.
"Just breathe," he whispered, a hand coming around to catch my chin and tilt my head back. "Deep breaths, Jess. Don't fight me."
He pushed forward, another inch of his thick, veiny shaft sliding into me. I gasped, my fingers clawing at the walls as the stretch became a dull, overpowering ache.
"That’s it. Relax your hips. Give it to me." He waited for the spasm to pass before advancing another inch. Each movement was a calculated invasion of my last defenses. "Stay open for me. I want this as much as you do."
"More," I choked out, my hips rolling back in a desperate bid to swallow the rest of him. "Brock, please."
"I want to feel your tight pussy close around me," he growled, his unsheathed hunger going straight to my clit. "You want that too, don't you? You want me all the way inside?"
I lost it then. The technicality of the stretch was gone, replaced by a fierce need for him to ravage me. I tilted my pelvis, searching for the depth, my moans echoing off the wet glass. "Do it. Fuck me. I want all of it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! Now!"
Brock reached forward, catching my right arm and pulling it back behind his neck. It forced my spine into a deep, vulnerable arch that also opened me even more for him. The change in angle put my pussy right where he wanted it.
"Hold on for me, baby. I don't want to hurt you."
Before the warning could even settle, he snapped his hips forward hard.
The impact was total. He drove the full length of his cock into me in one blistering thrust. My insides screamed at the sudden expansion.
An animalistic sound tore from my throat, raw and exposed, but Brock’s palm was already there, crushing over my mouth to muffle the noise.
He stayed there, buried to the hilt, his cock throbbing inside me while I shook against the wall.
“Fuck,” he said, his voice all strangled with how my pussy choked him out. “You did so good for me, Jess. Just like I knew you would.”
He moved again. The calculated stretch of the beginning was gone, gradually giving way to nothing but mind-blowing pleasure.
He withdrew until the head of his cock nearly escaped, then drove back in with a blazing force that made the shower door rattle in its track.
The pace picked up, his hips slamming into mine with a wet, echoing cadence.
I tried to keep my palms flat against the tile, but the momentum of his weight made my surroundings a haze of steam and white noise.
Each thrust hit deeper, harder. My pussy walls reacted with a desperate, involuntary clench, the internal muscles wrapping around his thickness in a series of delicious spasms. I was too tight, my pussy a vice that didn't let him breathe.
Heat coiled low in my belly, twisting into a final, unrelenting knot that shot loose and consumed me.
I came for the third time, a silent explosion that broke me in two. My internal grip on him became absolute. A suffocating heat that dragged another groan from his throat.
The speed of his thrusts became a frenzy. Brock’s discipline snapped. He was a machine of bone and muscle, driving into me with unchecked power that sent my center of gravity into a tailspin. My one standing leg buckled, the muscle failing as I slipped on the wet floor.
Despite his distraction, he caught my thighs before I could fall, and hoisted me up until my back was fused to his chest. Taking my full weight, biceps bulging and chest heaving, he pinned me to the wall.
He didn't slow down. Instead, he used this new angle to drive even deeper, his cock a rigid rod of iron that left me fighting for breath.
"Jess... God, Jess..."
Then his body locked. A gripping tremor started in his legs and his hips pinned me to the tiles as his climax hit.
I felt the first hot, thick jet of his cum flood my insides, followed by a series of powerful, pulsing bursts.
His whole body went rigid, muscles bunching into knots of stone as he emptied himself in me.
He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath coming in short, scorched pants while his cock continued to throb inside my heat.
The water continued to fall, a steady drone that eventually washed away the sweat and the salt, leaving only the weight of him holding me together in the steam.
Once it had cooled to a tepid drizzle, the steam thinned to reveal the clinical white tiles of the stall.
Brock pulled back, and the exit of his cock left me feeling empty.
A small, wounded sound escaped my throat.
It was a noise I’d never heard come out of me.
Ever. My fingers curled into the taut, damp skin of his shoulders to keep from sliding down the wall.
“I—That was…”
I wasn’t a woman who lost herself in the moment. I wasn’t reckless, and I sure as hell wasn’t uninhibited. But the man in front of me had leveled every defense with an effortless strength.
Brock’s hands remained on my waist, his thumbs tracing the line of my hip bones. He looked at me, the dark intensity in his eyes softening into something that made my chest ache. He reached up, his large hand gentle as he smoothed the wet hair away from my face, tucking a stray lock behind my ear.
"Are you okay to stand?" he asked, his voice returning to that steady, protective tone.
"I think so," I whispered, though my knees felt like they were made of cooling wax. I let out a shaky, breathless laugh that cracked in the middle. "I don't... I don't usually do this kind of thing."
Brock’s mouth quirked into a faint smile. "Despite the reputation... I’ve never done this either. Not like this."
The honesty in his voice was a different kind of intimacy than what we’d just shared. He reached over and turned the faucet, the drumming of the water cutting out and leaving us in the sudden, ringing quiet of the locker room.
Brock stepped out first, grabbed a towel from the rack and held it open for me. I shivered when I stepped out of the stall, but he quickly wrapped the towel around my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I murmured, leaning into the tender graze of his thumb against my cheek as he let go of me to get his own towel.
He slung it low around his hips, the cloth barely clinging to the sharp, carved lines of his obliques. My gaze got caught on the fine trail of hair leading down the center of his abs and disappearing into the knot of the towel. A roadmap to the power I’d just felt firsthand.
"David is not gonna believe this," I murmured, the thought slipping out before I could catch it.
Brock paused, his eyes narrowing in a flicker of confusion. "Who?"
"Never mind," I said, a flush that had nothing to do with the shower creeping up my neck. "It doesn't matter."
We stood there, caught in the high-voltage pull of the afterglow, our gaze locked in a way that made my heart go crazy all over again. He looked like he wanted to say something, his hand reaching for me—
"Oh, hello."
I spun around, clutching my towel to my chest.
Hunter’s knowing smile stretched across his face. His eyes darted from me to Brock, then down to the damp floor, taking in the scene with a quick, clinical assessment.