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He’s showing none of that. Instead, he’s steadily making progress.
He makes it halfway to the top before his fingers slip off a difficult and awkward grip. His legs kick out, trying to find purchase, but it’s over.
Gareth falls silently to the mat, landing with a grunt.
I stand over him, grinning. “Best of three?” I ask. “Or are you ready to tell me your deepest, darkest jerk-off fantasies?”
He sighs, eyes squeezing closed. “I thought about fucking you in the sauna. About pushing you down and sliding my thick cock into your tight, pink pussy, nice and slow and deep, until you screamed with pleasure. About pulling your hair, going faster, making your hips and breasts tremble with each rough thrust. About licking sweat off your inner thigh until you rode my tongue to climax.”
I lick my lips, blinking rapidly. “Uh, okay then, that was extremely graphic.” I shiver, thinking about his hands on my body, on my hips. His fingers digging into my ass while his tongue laps at my pussy. I haven’t been touched like that in a very long time, if ever, and I’m honestly craving it. I’ve been so damn pent-up, so extremely stressed out. An incredible orgasm might do wonders for me.
Except there’s a no-sex clause that I’m not going to break.
At least, if we’re going to break it, he’d better be the one to do the breaking.
“Did you think I fantasized in soft core?” he asks with a sigh. “Help me up.”
I give him a hand. We stand side by side in front of the wall again, looking upward. I’m trying not to think about him touching himself, touching his pierced cock, and thinking about me.
But a strange thrill of pride runs down my spine.
This man, this handsome, closed-off man, finds me so attractive that he touches himself to daydreams ofme.
“How come you haven’t had a serious girlfriend in a while?” I ask suddenly as I walk forward and start to make another climb.
“You know that’s a borderline insulting question, right?”
“Come on, seriously. Do you work too much?”
“Yes,” he says. “But that’s not it.”
“Why not then? Just haven’t found the right girl?” I glance down and he nods slightly, but he’s looking off in the distance, at the far end of the gym.
“I had a bad experience. Let’s say she broke my heart, like I told you before, and leave it at that. Now, I want to try again. Double or nothing?”
“You have more jerk-off fantasies you want to share?” My eyebrows raise.
He stares at me for a long moment, eyes drifting to my lips. “Fiona, I have a whole movie of fantasies I can tell you all about, if you’d like.”
“No thanks. Get climbing, big guy. I want to see you fall again.”
He laughs, but gives it another try. Arms and back straining. His beautiful, muscular shoulders working. I can already picture straddling him, feeling his muscular chest as I ride him, taking him deep, listening to his groans, licking sweat from his lips, digging my fingers into that back.
I amreallypent-up.
We take turns like that. He never reaches further than halfway, and I entertain myself by making up absurd climbing lines. We talk more about our lives, about our preferences, about the things that make us who we are.
“I haven’t talked about myself this much in years,” he admits as we sit and drink from our water bottles. “I wasn’t sure I had this much to say.”
“That’s no shock. I’m practically carrying this whole relationship on my back.”
“Oh, right, I forgot, you’re so interesting.”
“I glow like a lighthouse beacon compared to you.”
He smirks, clearly amused by my wit. “You know, I thought you were quiet when we first met.”
“I was trying to seem professional. Did it work?”
