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JIMMY
Thelma’s tight ass sways with her hips as she walks away without a care in the world. My eyes drink her in as she struts off, but she doesn’t turn around. Because why would ThelmaRampwoodturn around? I almost snort at the thought.
My cock twitches in my shorts. Shit. I need to start wearing compression shorts for these sessions. Everyone will notice if I walk around with a hard, twitching cock after servicing Thelma in her private sessions.
I groan atthatthought and duck upstairs into the privacy of my office. Ignoring the paperwork on my desk, I step into my private bathroom, flip the lock, and climb into the warm shower.
As the water cascades over me, I brace against the subway-tiled wall with one hand, the other fisting my cock, starting to move. My eyes flutter closed. The look and feel of Thelma, writhing and moaning beneath my hands, body, and mouth as she rode my fingers until she came, was the fucking sexiest thing I have experienced in a long time. Shit. I want to fuck her so badly. Too bad she’s off-limits. Even what I’m doing with her is probably crossing an ethical line, but fuck it, we’re both consenting adults.
I come embarrassingly quickly, groaning as I spill my release on the shower floor, the high-pressure flow washing the evidence away.
Shutting off the shower, I step out, toweling down, and dress again in workout clothes. It’s after seven. I could go home. But I’ll probably think of Thelma again. My recently sated cock twitches. How is that fucking possible?
Growling, I snatch my sneakers, lace them, and make my way down to the gym floor. A few trainers and clients call out to me, but I ignore them apart from a brief wave, heading for the treadmills. I need to sweat out this desire until my cock – and the rest of me – are too tired to twitch at the thought of Thelma.
Chapter 6
THELMA
Our conversation about where we went to college and when we returned to Seattle fades as Jimmy takes my gloves off me with heated eyes.
I don’t have to be invited to the yoga mat near the mirror for a stretching session. This is my fourth private boxing session with him this week, and every single one has ended with Jimmy’s finger fucking me as he sucks on my nipples until I come.
Today, I want to try something different. I haven’t felt this relaxed since I was a kid without a care in the world, and I’m perfectly happy with our "rubdown” sessions, only I’m starting to want…more.
Laying down, I bide my time as he diligently stretches my arms and legs. He doesn’t bother asking if I want a “rubdown” – the euphemism we’re using for getting me off. He immediately covers me with his body, his fingers finding my clit, stroking it as he tugs down my top, his lips closing around my nipple.
It feels so good – like it always does – so I let him continue for a moment, lost in the sensations. But when his thumb replaces his fingers on my clit, I change things up, putting my plan into action.
I reach down, palming his hard dick through his shorts, and Jimmy freezes, his breath hissing around my nipple. Shit. What if he isn’t interested in…more?
My voice is small and unsure. “Is this okay?”
“More than okay,” he pants, sounding strangled. Oh. Thank God.
Emboldened, I slip my hand into his shorts, closing my fingers around the silky shaft of his dick. It’s been a minute since I last gave a handjob, but I remember the basics. I start jacking him off – probably quite amateurishly – but he doesn’t seem to mind.
Groaning, Jimmy bites down on my nipple, the sting of pain coinciding with his thumb grinding on my clit and his finger entering me, stabbing roughly. So good.
I find my rhythm, rolling my thumb over the tip of his dick every so often, feeling the pre-cum there. Should I suggest…more?
Jimmy is panting against my nipple now. He lifts his head, his eyes searching mine, his pupils dilated, his eyes dark as night.
“God, I want to fuck you so bad,” he groans, his face twisting with regret. There’s nothing to regret. I want that too.
“So, fuck me.”
His face contorts as I start jacking my hand faster, his voice ripping out of him in a groan. “I don’t have a condom.”
Ah. I smirk up at him. “I do.”
His eyes widen. Still smiling smugly at the look of raw need on his face, I slip my hand out of his shorts, reaching for my gym bag beside my head.
Still holding eye contact, I unzip the side, fishing around until my fingers close around the foil of the condom I stowed there this morning. Jimmy’s fingers have stopped fucking me, lazily circling my clit again, driving me crazy with need.
Handing the condom to him, I whimper as his fingers leave my clit, closing around the condom.
“Give me a second, babe,” he groans. “I’ve got you.”
