Page 29 of Gym With Benefits

“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.