23. Chapter 23
twenty-three
H eavy glanced over at Cassie as he drove them through the dusk, and smiled. He liked having her in his truck.
And he hadn’t lied—he’d imagined having her on his bike, too, in the filthiest way. He’d work on getting her there. For now, they were ‘on a date’. To keep her dad and all the rest of the nosy-ass Flyers brothers happy, that Heavy wasn’t just messing with their little girl.
And he’d bet at least one of ‘em, Rocker or Cooler himself, would demand he report on how it went, whether she was smiling at the end of the evening.
Or at the end of the night, if he had his way. He wanted to fuck her, then go to sleep wrapped around her curvy little body, wake up and fuck her again. Hadn’t been able to last time, since they’d both awakened with hangovers from hell, and with the audience to match, outside the thin walls of their room.
He smiled to himself, remembering the little grumpy noises she’d made waking up.
Bet he could get her to wake up in a better mood.
But he was looking forward to the evening hours before that, just as much. Damn, he’d missed her sassy mouth, and that smile of hers, the way it lit up a room. Missed winding her up till her eyes shot sparks, or she let fly back at him with a smartass remark.
His own mood soured as he slowed the truck and pulled into the lot outside his gym.
Because there was Toby, the dumbass, already on his way to the front door, pack over one shoulder, keys in hand. When he saw Heavy’s truck the slim ginger-haired kid stopped short, his eyes going wide, visible even through the glass doors.
“Hello-o,” Heavy muttered.
Cassie snickered. “Bust-ed!”
Heavy laughed despite his irritation. “Yep. Back in a minute.”
He hopped down from his truck and stalked across the sidewalk to the gym door, slapped his key card on the reader, and when it beeped, pushed inside.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, staring down at Toby.
The little shit had the nerve to pout and kick it at the carpet like he was a fucking five-year-old, not a grown-ass man. “No one's been in for the last half hour, so why not close early for once?” he whined.
Heavy sighed. “Because you work for me. And I told you to stay open until our usual closing time, that’s why. Our clients need to know that we will always be here when we say we will be here. They’ve paid for the right to use the gym during the hours that we say we’ll be open. If we’re not open then, we’re essentially stealing from them.”
“Fine,” the kid groaned. He turned and slouched back to the check-in desk.
“Great,” Heavy said. “Glad we had this talk. And, just so you know, I have the building opening and closing codes on my phone. So, I will know if you leave a minute before nine o’clock.”
Toby mumbled something that Heavy chose not to hear. Instead he turned and walked out to his truck, to get on with the good part of his evening.
Heavy figured he’d take Cassie to the new supper club in Spokane. It was on the river with a great view of Spokane Falls, the gondola cars that angled across them, and the walking paths on both sides, lined with big rocks and plantings.
He’d made the reservation for seven-thirty, figuring that would give them time for a drink or two, have supper, then go to another bar and do some dancing if she was up for it or back to his place if she was up for that, because he knew he would be.
But he also wanted to do this right. It was after all, their first date.
Which made him want to throw back his head and howl with laughter. And at the same time it somehow made him want to puff out his chest In pride, that he got to do this for her.
‘Cause she was his pixie, his Cassie girl.
“You wanna mess with my music stations, go ahead,” he told her as he backed away from the gym. “I know you’re dying to.”
She tipped her head to one side as Jelly Roll started singing. “Nope, I love him. I’ll give you a prediction, though. You’re gonna end up firing Toby. In fact, I’ll give him… two, maybe three more weeks.”
“The way he's acting, I’ll give him one,” Heavy said, giving her a wry grin as he put the truck in gear and accelerated out of the lot.“Know anyone looking for a job?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not at the moment.”
“Huh? Thought you hated serving coffee.”
“I do,” she said. “But I also promised Dina Torres I’d stick till she’s back on her feet.”
“Even if you stick literally, with latte all over you?” he asked.
“Even then. So where are we having supper?”
“Not at The Hangar,” he said, his eyes twinkling as they met hers. They both laughed.
“You got that right,” she said. “Take me somewhere nobody knows our names, or who to text the pictures to if we misbehave.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said.
And it did.
And it was. They had a couple of drinks–a beer for him and a cocktail for her, a great steak dinner, although Cassie ate a steak about a fifth the size of his, and then walked along the river in the twilight, watching the gondola cars swing slowly over head, and the last rays of the setting sun gleam in the spray from the falls.
Heavy held Cassie’s phone for a few selfies at their table, which turned out fine, and at the falls, which turned out great because she was nestled in front of him with her hair tickling his chin and laughing, her eyes sparkling, her mouth curved up so sweet, while he grinned like a guy who knew exactly how lucky he was.
Then she mugged, pretending to smooch his cheek for one, only he turned and laid a real kiss on her, and caught a photo of it, which in his opinion was the best one of all. Because it turned into a long, hot kiss, with her arms around his neck, and her hanging onto him, and him holding her tight against him, feeling all her softness pressed into him, sweet and hot and willing.
They broke apart when someone whistled loudly, shooting past on a skateboard.
Heavy gazed down into her eyes, hazy with heat and soft with longing. “You wanna go dancing?” he asked her. “Or back to my place?”
She stroked her soft fingers up the side of his neck, and gave him a shy, hot glance. “Back to your place.”
“Oh, thank God,” he muttered. His dick was trying to bust a hole in his jeans, and damn near making it.
They drove back to the Heights in a silence fraught with unspoken need.
At Heavy’s apartment fourplex, he pulled into his parking space, vaulted out of his truck, strode around to her side, lifted her down, and followed her up the stairs to his apartment, close behind her.
Once inside, he set his hand in the small of her back. “This way’s the bedroom. Bathroom’s through here. You can go first.”
The bathroom was clean, with a whiff of Heavy’s body wash. Cassie did her business, washed her hands, and looked at herself briefly in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her eyes large and sparkling, and her lips full and parted. Good enough.
Heavy was waiting outside. He brushed a hand over her hip as he passed her, the door shut behind him. She walked into his bedroom. It was small, with just enough room to walk around the bed. This was kingsized, of course, and covered in olive sheets and pillow cases, and a gray comforter.
She was almost disappointed the room didn’t smell more like him. But it just smelled clean. She smiled to herself. He’d washed the sheets and comforter.
As the bathroom door opened behind her, she remembered she still wore her cross-body bag. She drew it off over her head, and his hand appeared as if by magic to accept it, and hang it up on a hook by the closet door.
“Any other items I can take for you, miss?” he asked behind her, his deep voice smooth as a concierge at a fancy place. “Clothes? Undies?”
“You first,” she said, turning her head to give him a sultry look over her shoulder.
“You bet.”
He reached down and started unbuttoning his fitted dress shirt.
“Your turn,” he said.
She reached down and pulled her filmy, layered top up slowly, and over her head. Once there, she realized she’d forgotten about her necklaces, which were now caught in the lace front of the top.
“I’m stuck,” she said, laughing a little.
“Lemme help with that,” he offered, and moved closer. But instead of unfastening the necklaces, or the top from them, he reached around her hips and unfastened her jeans, and tugged them lower on her hips.
“Hey,” she protested, but her voice came out breathy.
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he said. “Just gotta see your pretty ass right now. Here, step out—that’s right. I got you.”
And he did. Even with her arms over her head, he held her carefully while she stepped out of her booties, and then her jeans. Leaving her bottom half exposed to his gaze, and his big, hot, calloused hands, wearing only a black lace thong.
Which, if his deep, nearly soundless groan, and the fine trembling in his hands were any indication, he really, really liked.
She was smiling as she let her top fall back down around her waist.
He pulled her back against him, peering over her shoulder, and reaching around to cup her mons, clad in black lace. “So fuckin’ sexy, pixie. You wore this for me.”
“M-hmm,” she agreed, arching into his grasp. And she was getting wet for him, too. She ran the back of her hand up over the swell of his chest, seeking his chin. “I need you to kiss me now.”
“Yeah? Right here?”
She gasped as his fingers delved into plump wetness. “Y-yes, but o-on my mouth first… please?”
His mouth opened on the shell of her ear instead, as he circled her clit with a fingertip. “Cum for me first, baby. Can you do that? You do, and I’ll give you a spankin’ for being my dirty girl.”
She came for him, instantly, keening her pleasure as her pussy spasmed under his knowing touch.
"Oh, fuck, yeah," he groaned. Then he kissed her mouth, deep and wet, and praised her as he laid her back on the big bed.
She gazed up at him, too dazed with pleasure to be embarrassed by what had just happened. She'd be embarrassed later. Right now, he was so hawt, and there was so much of him to admire. Thank God for weights, and for what they’d done for this man.
He came down on top of her, leaning on his elbows over her. "You like what you see, pixie?"
"Uh-huh," she agreed, watching as she reached up to put her hands on him. "I like your body."
Now she got to do everything she'd wanted since the first night she saw him. Get him naked and over her—or under her, or all of the above. She wasn't picky, she just wanted him inside her.
She could devote hours to petting him, he was so hot and satiny, with all those bulges and hollows of muscle, and he smelled like musky, testosterone-laden sex.
"You have too many clothes on," he said, already pushing up the loose hem of her flutter top. "Let's get this off."
She made a face. "Sure, just don't be disappointed."
"Huh?" he paused with the hem of her top just below her bra, which was black lace like her panties.
"A-cups," she told him woefully.
He pushed her top up over her face, chuckling again, and as she lifted her shoulders, he helped her get the top off and cast it aside, his gaze surveying her small breasts in see-through black lace. Of course they were totally flat now, with her on her back.
"Your tits are just fine," he informed her, reaching to cup one in his hand, and tweak her nipple with his thumb. "I'm an ass man, myself. And like I said, your ass is fuckin' hot."
"You say fuck a lot," she informed him. "But you don't do enough of it."
His gaze flew to hers, and his eyes hooded, his smile going predatory. "Oh, now that sounded like a dare. And I never turn down a dare, not from a lady."
She let out a squeak of shock as her legs were pulled gently but firmly to the sides, leaving her lying before him with her thighs open, clad only in scanty black lace. And he was surveying her like a conquest, as he knelt up over her. "Little blonde pussy in black lace," he said, almost to himself. "So pretty, and smelling so fuckin' good. Gonna have me a taste, then I'll fuck you."
As he doubled over, his calloused hands going under her to palm her ass, he nuzzled her through her panties, and inhaled deeply. Then he sent her a glinting look from under his brows. "I promised you kisses here too. You want me to eat you out, pull these aside for me."
Cassie did as he ordered, her fingers trembling with eagerness, her pussy spasming at his dirty words, the press of his wide, hot shoulders against her inner thighs, and his knowing gaze.
"Omigod, I—I could almost cum just from you looking at me like that," she told him, her voice cracking.
He smiled, slow and wicked. "Yeah, pixie? Then let's see how you do with this."
He bent his head and put his mouth on her, and she cried out, her head pressing back in the pillows. God, his tongue was hot, wet, luscious sandpaper against her pussy, and her swollen clit. And he knew exactly how to drive her crazy with it, dragging his tongue through the wet furrow of her labia, and then attacking her clit with swift precision, swirling it softly but firmly.
"Oh, oh, H-Heavy," she whimpered. Pleasure gathered where he licked her, tighter and tighter until she broke, cumming again so hard and fast she shuddered with the glory of it.
He surged up over her again, pausing only long enough to reach to the side and yank open the drawer of the bedside table, and pull out a condom, the wrapper rustling in his grasp.
Cassie dragged open her eyes enough to watch as he sat back on his heels between her thighs, pulling down his stretchy pants over his hips. She gasped when she saw his cock spring free from his pants. Long and thick, it was dark with arousal, the plum-like head weeping creamy cum before he covered it with his hand, donning the condom with speed and skill.
"Oh, God," she breathed. "Please, go easy with that thing."
He came down over her again, this time leaning one elbow beside her shoulder as he reached between them with his other hand, positioning the head of his cock at her entrance. "I'll go easy," he said, his jaw tight, eyes glittering. "Oh, fuck, baby. You're so tight. So perfect."
She certainly was tight when it came to the club he carried between his legs. Luckily, she was wet from her orgasm, because it took him a minute to work his way deep inside her. He was quivering like a stallion ready to explode into action, his skin damp with sweat, and his face a mask of near pain as he paused.
"You okay?" he gritted, his gaze glazed as he looked down at her.
She was more than okay, now that he was seated deep inside her. "I'm good." Or maybe he was right, maybe perfect was the word. She slid her hands up over his sides. His back was ah-mazing, all smooth and hard.
"Thank fuck," he groaned, and then moved, pulling out a ways before thrusting back in. "Oh, Jesus, that's good.”
Then he astonished, and displeased her by pulling out all the way. "No!" she whined. "Come back."
He patted her hip. "Roll over, and tuck up. I want you from behind."
Well, if it put that gleam in his eyes, she'd do it.
Cassie squirmed over onto her front, and got up onto her hands and knees. Her reward was a groan of sheer pleasure from Heavy, and his hands on her bottom, bared by the thong back of her panties. "Oh, Jesus fuck, yeah," he praised, his voice rough. "Down on your elbows, baby. Point that ass up at me, yeah, like that. So fuckin' gorgeous."
Arousal clenched inside her again as she assumed the vulnerable position. Only for him would she do this on this first time. And because it was him, it was all the hotter.
He thrust carefully into her again, his hands covering the fullness of her hips, his groin hot and hard against her ass cheeks, his pubic hair tickling her sensitive skin.
"My sexy, fuckin' pixie," he praised as he began to move, withdrawing and thrusting back inside. "Not gonna last long. Pet your clit, so you can keep up, yeah?"
Cassie put her hand between her legs and petted her clit, as her dream man drove into her over and over, stretching her to the hilt and raking her G-spot with every thrust of his cock.
"I'm close," he said, his deep voice tight. "You?"
Cassie did not answer, her focus all on their bodies. Then his broad, hard palm smacked her ass cheek. "Hey," he growled. "Pay attention."
She gasped at the sting of his palm, her eyes flying open. He’d spanked her! He’d really done it.
He grunted. "Oh, Jaysus, you do like that. Your pussy squeezed me so hard." He smacked her again, on the other cheek.
Somehow, the shock and sting morphed once again into sharp pleasure, as if he'd found a string straight to her G-spot and tugged it. Cassie couldn't help it, she moaned, a high breathy sound muffled by the pillows but still audible in the room.
Heavy groaned. "Fu-uck, you love that. And you're gonna cum on my cock now, aren't you? Fuck yeah, that’s my bad girl. Take your spankin’, pixie, and give me what I want. Squeeze me so tight with this pussy… yeah, just like that."
He spanked her again, a stinging slap on one cheek and then the other, even as he thrust into her harder, faster.
And he was right, she did love it. She arched her back, thrusting her bottom up for him in utter surrender, even as a tiny part of her mind reeled in shock at her own behavior.
Then she came on his cock, as commanded, and did it so hard she screamed into the pillow. “Yes, yes, Marcus. Yes.”
He gave a deep growl of release, and stiffened over her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips.
Pulling out of her, he muttered something she couldn't hear, and moved away. Warm and liquid as poured butter, Cassie sank into the bed, and closed her eyes, reveling in the pure goodness of three fabulous orgasms, the last one the best one she’d ever had.
They should have done this months ago.
The next morning, Cassie woke slowly. She batted at whoever or whatever was tickling her ear.
“Go ‘way,” she muttered, snuggling deeper into the pillow. M-mm, it smelled like him, and the bed was so warm.
“Can’t,” said a deep, amused voice over her head. “Gotta go open the gym. You wanna ride home first, you need to get up. I have coffee.”
She sniffed, and then dragged her eyes open. Coffee?
Wait, where the hell was she? She raised her head, staring blankly at the wrong sheets, wrong walls, and brawny male leg in her vision.
“Morning, sunshine,” Heavy said.
Cassie scrambled up onto her knees, hauling the pillow with her as cover, and gaped at him.
He sat on the edge of the bed, freshly showered, dressed and holding a steaming mug of coffee. And grinning at her, like she was the funniest thing he’d seen in a while.
“You always this hard to wake up?” he asked, taking a drink of the coffee.
She glared at him. “Maybe. Gimme.”
He handed over the cup, his brows going up, his smile widening. “All yours, grumpy. Need you to get dressed in the next ten, ‘kay?”
Sipping coffee, she didn’t answer. Huh, it was good. Vanilla creamer, no sweetener, just the way she liked it. “'kay,” she said.
“Good. Oh, and can I have my pillow back?” He reached for it, and she tightened her grasp, glaring at him.
“No?” He shrugged. “Worth a try.”
With that, he rose, and walked out into the other room, leaving her drinking her coffee. Her clothes were neatly laid out on the end of the bed, her purse and jacket too.
Pretty polite, for a biker man.
She brushed her teeth with her finger and some of his toothpaste, so she could give him a goodbye kiss later.
He offered her breakfast, but she shook her head. “Wake me up sooner next time, and sure.”
“Oh, baby, I tried,” he said. “Guess I wore you out last night, hmm?”
She tapped a finger on her cheek. “Well, you did stay awake for the main event this time, so points for that.”
He gave her a narrow-eyed look as he held the door open for her. “Two main events, if I recall. And I made you pretty damn happy both times.” He leaned closer. “Or do I need to take you over my knee right now and remind you?”
“Uh—nope.” Her face pulsing with heat, Cassie ran down the outside stairs ahead of him.
“That’s what I thought.” He sauntered down the steps, looking smug.
She frowned at him from beside his truck. “You know, I don’t have to give you a goodbye kiss.”
He crowded her against the smooth metal, and bent to her, his hands planted on either side of her. “Aw, c’mon, pixie. I can’t go a whole day without a kiss from those lips, now that I know how soft they are. And that sweet little thing you do with your tongue.”
Well, when he put it like that…
He lifted his head a long moment later, both of them a little breathless.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “That oughtta hold me for a few hours, anyway. Wanna ride home on the back of my bike?”
“Uh-huh.” She wished they could just go back upstairs.
“You gonna come in and work out today?” he asked as he pulled up in the drive of her parents' house, and stopped the Harley to let her off.
“Sure, I guess,” she heard herself agree.
He looked satisfied as she swung off. “Good. See you then.”
He rolled back down the driveway and off down the street, a big man on a big motorcycle to match.
And just that simply, Cassie found herself once again a regular patron of Heavy Iron.
A few days later, she came in late in the evening, at his request, to help him fill the display case.
As he took his lifting trophies out of the boxes, and unwrapped them, Cassie stood them carefully on the shelves in the cases.
“Where did you win this one?” she asked, eying the biggest of all, a man who did indeed resemble Heavy, posed just like the lifters in his gym logo.
“That was the NW Heavy-weight Championships. My final competition. Took home the championship, and the purse, and I. Was. Done.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “The whole NorthWest… that’s a big area. You have a lot to be proud of here.”
He grunted, and she gave him a puzzled look. “Um, so good memories?”
“Some,” he said slowly. “I mean, I shared that I was a fat kid. So growing out of that, getting strong, and having people look up to me instead of down on me, having guys give me room instead of figuring I was their safe target for bullying… that was all great.”
She nodded, and he went on. “And I’m proud, yeah, of how hard I worked to win the competitions, and the money I saved for this place.”
“Well, you should be,” she said, with utter sincerity. “I don’t know anyone else who’s ever accomplished anything like that.”
He gave her a small smile, and handed her a framed photo.
“Here, better put this in there. Me, all pumped for my last round of competition.”
Cassie took the photo and held it for a moment, gazing at it in awe and consternation. Heavy–her Heavy and yet not her Heavy– stood on a stage, his body gleaming with oil under a spotlight, wearing nothing but tiny yellow briefs. Every single one of his muscles were delineated, engorged with blood. One arm was crooked to flex his biceps, the other outstretched to one side. His legs were flexed, his thighs bulging. And she counted—he had an eight pack under his massive chest.
“Whoa,” she murmured. “I’m glad you don’t walk around like that all the time.”
He snorted. “Doesn’t do it for you, huh?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Um… not really. Kind of like the Hulk versus David Banner. The Hulk is phat, but I’ll take David Banner for everyday.”
When he said nothing, she peeped at him through her lashes. He was shaking his head at her, his eyes twinkling. “The Hulk? You’re a nut. Never know what’s gonna come outta that mouth.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“
He shook his head, nudging her with his elbow, his dimple appearing. “Hey, pixie, gotta try harder’n that to offend me. The Hulk was based on bodybuilders. That’s obvious to every kid who watches Marvel. Anyway, my days of hulking up are done.”
“Did you… was any of it fun?” she asked doubtfully, caught by something in his voice.
Heavy opened his mouth, and then closed it. He sighed heavily. “Tell you the truth, pixie, I hated that shit—the public part, I mean. Putting on that fuckin’ singlet, getting oiled up and parading my ass under those lights, all those people oglin’ me while I posed—“
He gave a full-body shake, almost like a dog shaking water out of its coat. “Lot of the guys, and gals, loved it. They fed off the audiences, the photographers, the applause. I mean, at first it was a helluva rush, knowing I was so cut that I could win sponsorships for it, and trophies. But after a while I just got sick of it. But the money was good, so …” he shrugged.
Cassie’s chest hurt, and she wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him to her, assure him he’d never have to go back to that life again. But he already knew that.
“I guess it's kind of like stripping, in a way, huh?” she said, and then winced. “Wait, I’m sorry, that came out wrong—“
“Babe, it’s okay. Never thought about it that way, but certain aspects, I guess. Both showin’ it off for the money. Although, at least I never had folks stick money in my singlet.”
She made an ‘eek!’ face. “Yeah, I don’t s’pose anyone would dare.”
They both snickered.
“Or try to grope you,” she added.
He gave her a jaundiced look. “Wanna bet on that? Had a few who thought we must be all right with that, after the competitions, since we were … y’know, lettin’ it almost all bust out.”
Cassie groaned. “Really? Euww. Well, at least you were a lot bigger than them, right?”
“True that. Makes it a fuckuva lot easier to say no to someone when you can squash ‘em with one hand.”
“Right?”
He gave her a penetrating look, then concentrated on folding up the last box and stacking it, while Cassie sprayed their fingerprints on the glass and wiped it down.
“You ever take self-defense classes?” Heavy asked her, straightening with the cardboard under his arm.
Cassie looked over to see him surveying her with thoughtful gaze. “Sure,” she said. “Mac made sure of that, but you could prob'ly teach me some new moves.”
His gaze locked with hers, and he smiled. “Can’t think of anything I’d like better. Every pixie oughtta know how to defend herself. Especially one as pretty as you.”
“Great. Let me know when.”
“How about right now?”
“Fine.”
He nodded slowly. “Fine. C’mere.”
Slowly, Cassie turned and moved the several steps to stand before him.
“You should probably, um, drop the boxes,” she told him.
He tossed the cardboard to one side. The pieces landed with a soft clatter. “Uh-huh. And you should get rid of the cleaning shit.”
She tossed the bottle and rag after the cardboard. They hit with a thump and a swish.
His hands rose to close on her waist, powerful and hot. “When a guy grabs you like this,” he said, “You should block him. Or he might do this.”
Cassie gasped as he lifted her against him, so their faces were level, and her feet dangled. Instinctively, her legs lifted to clasp his flanks, her hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders, like silk and iron under her grasp.
“And then, he might do this,” he added, and kissed her.
Of course, she met him halfway, because their last hour of work had been nothing but foreplay, and she was ready to devour him like a giant ice-cream cone.
“You better show me what to do next,” she mumbled against his skin as he turned and started walking. “'Cause this is bad. Very bad.”
“You think so? It’s gonna get worse.”
“Bring it, biker man.”