And it appeared that something was going to be Trent Ramsey, no matter how hard I tried to fight it.
Trent
Monday, August 20
“I’M NOT SEEIN’ MUCH PROGRESS, Trent,” my trainer bellowed as I was flat on my back on the bench. “You’ve been slackin’ off.”
“The hell I have,” I groaned as I pushed the bar up for another rep. When I set it on the pegs, I huffed out a breath and stretched my arms toward the ceiling. “I don’t know the fucking meaning of that word.”
Case laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed in my home gym. “Now why do I believe that?”
“Because it’s true,” I groaned as I started to sit up.
“Oh, no. Don’t you dare get up. You’ve got one more set.”
Fuck.
I gripped the bar once more and got into a better position.
I met Case Rhinehart years ago at one of the first BDSM clubs I frequented here in Dallas. Oddly enough, the six-foot-three-inch beast of a trainer was none other than a masochist who I had befriended over the years. It wasn’t until I fired my first personal trainer more than a decade ago that I sought out Case. For the past ten years, I had looked to this particular submissive to whip my ass into shape.
“I’m startin’ to wonder,” he said with a chuckle as he leaned forward to spot the bar.
“About?” I wasn’t sure where his train of thought had gone.
“You and the slackin’. I thought my eyes were deceivin’ me but you might be gettin’ a gut.”
Yeah. No way in hell. The kid was yanking my chain. “Careful, kid, or you’ll be kneeling at my feet and begging me for forgiveness.”
As usual, Case’s light green eyes sparkled with interest.
No, he wasn’t interested in me, per se. I knew for a fact the man was currently between Doms. He was a member of both Dichotomy locations because he traveled with me quite a bit.
I finished my set and dumped the bar back on the pegs. Once he was sure it was secure, Case stepped around, offering a hand to help me sit up. My gaze instantly dropped to my stomach and I pressed my hand against the muscles there. Case chuckled before tossing me a towel and a bottle of water.
“You’re too easy, Ramsey,” he teased.
“Yeah, fuck off.”
He huffed a laugh before chugging his water.
“Well, you might not have a gut yet, but I think we need to up our sessions.” He held up a hand in mock defense. “Now, I know you’re gonna tell me there’s no need, but there is. And I’m gonna talk to Brax because we need to focus on your protein intake.”
Braxton McBride—known to everyone as simply Brax—was my personal chef and Case’s boyfriend, as well as another submissive who was a member of my clubs. As for how two submissives had ended up in a relationship, I couldn’t tell you, but it seemed to work for them. While Case had a history in the lifestyle, Brax hadn’t been introduced to BDSM until after he met Case via me.
“Well, you tell Brax he better lay off that kale shit. I’m not a fan. And that’s the fastest way to get me to skip a meal.”
Case shook his head. “I’ll talk to him.”
I pushed to my feet and downed more water. “I’ve got some business coming up in Chicago. I’ll need you out there for a week or so. Maybe longer. I’ll let you know when I nail it down.”
“I go where you go,” Case said with a grin. “And I’ve been lookin’ forward to headin’ out there again.”
I smirked. “While I know you’re interested, I’m not sure you can handle Zeke.” Although, I wouldn’t mind watching the two of them together.
Not because I had a fetish for watching two men, but more so because I did have a strange fascination with sadomasochism. Watching, not participating. I wasn’t a Sadist. Not even in the loosest sense of the word.
His eyes glazed again just from the mention of Zeke’s name. The guy had it bad.
“I’d love the opportunity, regardless,” he said as he tossed his towel into the hamper. “I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here.” I turned toward the treadmill.
“I only want you on that thing for thirty minutes,” he said. “No longer than that. If not, I’m gonna up your calorie intake and I’m gonna have Brax put kale in every damn thing you eat.”
I grumbled. “Fine. Thirty minutes.”
“See ya tomorrow.”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. I had exactly forty-five minutes before Troy was scheduled to be here.
Oddly enough, I was looking forward to seeing him.
I only hoped the boy could manage to be here on time.
*
Standing in the shower, I closed my eyes and gripped my rigid cock in my fist while I let thoughts of Clarissa and Troy take over. I knew it wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had, but I could no longer fight it. As it was, they’d started to overwhelm my dreams. I was in too deep where they were concerned. It was time I set my plan in motion.
