The Trainer Page 10

  His turn to laugh. His fingers wrapped around the glass as he stared at the contents. “Well no, I don’t. But I’m just trying to understand why a girl like you would be doing all this for him. I’m curious. So how’d you meet him?”

  “Well, you have to realize that I was thirteen when I met Silas. And we were inseparable. Then one day he left, with no explanation at all. When I got to college I met friends, moved on in a way but no one ever came close to the way I felt about him. That’s why I want to see him again. Just one night.”

  Destry didn’t say anything but handed me a shot of vodka and then downed his own, as if he knew the pain I felt. “And what happens if that night doesn’t go as planned?”

  “I haven’t thought about that part yet.” The thing was, I was refusing to let myself think about that part of it.

  He nodded, his eyes on his shot glass again.

  “You know that old saying, something about the best laid plans often go awry. You should really think about the what ifs before you show up to meet him.” Destry wouldn’t make eye contact when he said that. “Celebrities are no different than professional athletes, opportunities are presented to you that are oftentimes hard to pass up when you are in the public eye.”

  Damn him. Silas wasn’t like that, surely he wasn’t. Was he?

  We ended up making small talk for a while, but with Destry there were some topics that were off limits. It seemed anything related to his past, his family, and a lot about boxing were all triggers. It was certainly hard to have conversations with him. You could literally watch him shut down when the conversation drifted towards an outcome he couldn’t control.

  “I’m so out of practice.” I said randomly, as if he should automatically know what I’m talking about. “It’s been a while.”

  “Out of practice with what?” He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were on the television above the bar, which made it a little easier to answer.

  “Sex.”

  Then his eyes snapped to mine and my cheeks were immediately red.

  He took a drink of his beer and then smiled, slightly. “Need some training, do you?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

  He shrugged. He. Only. Shrugged.

  So I had basically just offered up sex and he shrugged. Nice. I wanted to punch myself when I got drunk because I said shit like that and offered up anything. I’d just offered up myself on a platter to this unbelievably smoking hot guy and he fucking shrugged. If I couldn’t get Destry to have sex, how in the holy hell was Silas going to even take the bait?

  In a matter of ten minutes, I had five shots. For someone who doesn’t drink, those five shots caught up with me quickly.

  Destry shifted next to me, but surprisingly kept his cool, as always. When he didn’t say anything, I continued, fearing the silence. “I… uh… sorry I said that.”

  “How many of those are you going to drink?” he leaned forward with his elbows on the bar, motioning toward the shot glass in my hand. Danny came by attempting to fill our shot glasses again, smiling at Destry, and then me. I’m sure it looked obvious what was happening here. Or where we were heading with this.

  I held my hand up to Danny trying to cover the shot glass. “No way. I’m done.”

  “Ah, live a little.” Danny said in a thick Canadian accent I hadn’t noticed until tonight. Destry laughed beside me, nudging my elbow. I ended up uncovering my shot glass. I never wanted to lose to Destry, hence the two mile run I’d recently endured.

  I looked over at Destry again, shadows danced across his cheeks when he blinked. “So how many?”

  I gave him a look, a confused one at that. “Just one. Why?”

  “Why not two or three more?” His eyes moved from mine to the television above the bar.

  I turned on my stool and bumped his knee with mine. “Destry Stone… are you trying to take advantage of me?”

  He shrugged, eyes never moving from the television but not missing a beat when he replied with, “It’s just a lot easier when you make bad decisions.”

  Cute. No really. He’s adorable.

  I’m not good at flirting. Never have been. I once asked a guy while I was drunk if he wanted to go to a clam bake. That guy being Jared. That was also the night I set his car on fire and peed on his parent’s living room floor. Another fabulous reason I was also still single.

  “So… Destry Stone.” He looked at me when I said his name, arching his brow. “What’s your middle name?”

  He seemed to contemplate this one for a minute and then grinned softly. “Is that really your question?”

  “Well, no, I have another but I really need to know your middle name.”

  “It’s Jacob.” His face was composed when he spoke, maybe a practiced indifference he tried really hard to maintain at all times.

  “Okay… Destry Jacob Stone… is boxing hard?”

  He gave me a look so I squinted to be sure he was looking at me. I did just have five shots in a row. “Hard?”

  “Yeah, like skill wise.” Then I burst out laughing, rather loud. “Not like dick hard. Just hard.

  I’m. An. Idiot.

  At least he cracked a smile. It’s more than what he usually offered me. “Anybody can box and throw punches. That’s not hard. Landing them, and doing that round after round with the same intensity in which you started landing them, yeah, that’s hard and takes years of training.”

  I thought about that for all of a half a second. Enough to take another drink of beer and slam the glass back down on the bar. “I think I could box.” I deduced.

  He laughed. Fucking laughed at me. “Yeah?”

  “Oh absolutely.” I screamed, because drunk me is completely tone deaf and pushed myself away from the bar just slightly and held up my fists at him. “Totally could.”

  Destry reached for my hand and a bottle of tequila behind the bar, smiling at me. “Let’s see what you got, tough girl,” he drawled out slowly, his eyelids heavy and drooping.

  I returned the contagious smile that kept drawing me in tonight. “By all means, lead the way.”

  He led me downstairs to the boxing ring in the basement, helped me over the ropes and then stood there face-to-face with me. We both took a drink straight from the bottle and then he set it to the side.

  Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he rolled his neck around. “Hit me.”

  I mimicked his little warm up, just trying to act like I knew what I was doing. “What?”

  His teasing eyes landed on me. “Let’s see what you got, tough girl.”

  So I did. And he let me. Crazy. I felt awful hitting him but he told me to. He provoked me.

  “Fucking hell,” he gasped touching his cheek and then took his gloves off. “You hit me.” And for the first time since I met him, Destry’s voice was playful.

  “You told me to.”

  He smiled, dark and playful and reached for me. He shifted closer and my breath caught. The strength of his arms was never more apparent than it was right then when he picked me up like I weighed nothing.

  Then I tried to wrestle him. Let me just say, ninety percent of wrestling matches between a man and woman end in sex. Always. Happened to me and Jared in college and if my memory served me correctly, that involved alcohol as well.

  He pinned me to the ring, my hands raised above my head, moving his mouth to my ear and pressing his erection right where I wanted it, “I wanna show you something.”

  “So what are you going to show me?” I swallowed, watching his eyes, hot, dark, almost angry.

  “How good sex can be…” he breathed staring at me now. His gaze on me was almost too much to take. “How good it is with me.”

  With me? Was it better with him? I had no doubt it probably was. Look at him.

  “Who says I want to have sex with you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I bet if I stuck my hand down your pants right now, you’d be willing and wet.”

  “And you’d be right. But I never said I wanted to ha
ve sex with you.”

  Liar.

  Destry laughed, his chest shaking mine. “Bullshit. You’ve wanted to have sex with me since you saw me in the shower.” He moved closer, our chest in line, blinking once but then finding my eyes again. “Have you ever been fucked?”

  “Yes.” I squeaked out, my eyes frantically sweeping over his chest and ending at his lips. God I want to kiss him.

  His left hand moved from the floor to cradle the back of my head as he took a handful of my hair. “I’m not talking about sex, Tallan.” He leaned his weight on his left elbow, then shifted sideways slightly and ran his right hand down to my hip and squeezed rocking his hips into mine. “I’m talking about sweat soaked fucking where you can’t even breathe, you’re just fucking. Giving them pleasure and pain to which they don’t know what they like better.”

  “Say what?” I moaned, arching my back.

  “You heard me.” His lips met my skin for the first time, but never my lips, his heavy hot breath on the sensitive skin of my neck. “And by the look on your face, you’re dying to find out.”

  Never stop. Never ever stop kissing my skin.

  “So…” I tried to act all cool and innocent, though I was none of that and desperately tried not to rip my clothes off and scream, “Take me now!”

  I didn’t say that though. I kept my cool and replied with. “Are we talking about whips and chains and shit like that?”

  He let out a laugh, his chest shaking me, then moved away sitting up so I was spread out before him. “Do you really think a man of my strength and endurance needs anything besides my own hands to restrain you?” He challenged raising an eyebrow.

  I couldn’t breathe. No really, I couldn’t. He just took my ability to function with those words. I’m so in over my head.

  A boxer loses by way of a knockout or KO when he or she is unable to get up unassisted after being floored by the count of ten.

  A man can make you feel pretty by a look, words, or even a simple touch. They can make you feel sexy and on fire with the same. Destry had me in the throes of hot and bothered with what he’d just said to me.

  Destry was making me feel beautiful in ways no man had ever done. He was worshiping me just by a stare and firm hands, and I needed that. Believe me when I say I fucking needed that. When I first came down to this basement two weeks ago I never thought I’d be having sex in this very ring. Never. Look at me already making assumptions. My plan was to get in shape so I could have sex with Silas. I’d only developed a Plan A…Plan D, also known as Destry¸ has thrown me for a fucking loop.

  I was hopeful the moment I saw this man in the shower that I’d get to know him a little more personally. Not gonna lie.

  I stared at him wondering what he was going to do next. Would he pull away? What then?

  That’s when he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his chest.

  Fuck yeah. Now we’re getting somewhere. My eyes swept over the heavenly body before me.

  God, those muscles. So tight and tensed just waiting to be touched and worshiped. I could worship every long, hard muscle this man possessed. Every muscle. Oh yeah, I could.

  He wasn’t going to ask me if I wanted to. He knew my body wanted him. His did too, he couldn’t help himself.

  Had he done this before in a ring? He’d already spilled that he’d only slept with five women. Was I about to be notch number six on his heavyweight belt?

  No. Don’t think like that. Don’t because more than likely he had. Look at him. Of course he had. He’d probably had sex in all kinds of places, up against walls, showers, in cars, on cars.

  Without a word, or in my case another thought, I wrapped my legs around him. He willingly came forward but stopped, both hands on the floor next to either side of my face.

  “I want you…” he breathed, watching my face react to his words. He studied me with an open intensity that caused me to gasp. He wasn’t going to ask for approval, but this was my time to say no.

  He watched me, and as drunk as I was, it made me uncomfortable. Like he was searching for an out, or worse, hesitating because deep down he didn’t want this. My mind wouldn’t stop. If you looked at Destry, and then you looked at someone like me, you’d understand why I questioned why he wanted to be here with me. I was Eve and he was the serpent telling me to eat the apple. Oh, hell yeah, give me that apple. I gave him a nudge with my legs, a silent invite to finish what he’d started. I don’t think I needed to remind him that winners don’t quit.

  Though he still had his black Nike shorts on, he wasn’t hesitating now, but he also wasn’t quick about it when his hands went to my yoga pants. It was like slow motion. He stopped, his fingers curling around the edges. I looked up at the ceiling, afraid to watch as he removed my pants, open beams and florescent lights of the ceiling were my only view.

  Was this really happening? Was I about to have sex with my personal trainer?

  Did that scream hoochie? Of course it did.

  Did that stop me? Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

  Destry shifted his weight, tugging my pants over my ass. When he had them off, he tossed them over his shoulder, my panties weren’t far behind.

  Destry, meet my pussy. She sent you a friend request a couple weeks ago.

  Thanks for accepting.

  My eyes traveled back to his and Destry smirked, so sexy, so sinful, as if he knew what I was thinking, and ran his hands from my hips up over my ribs and then to my breasts, cupping them. Then he went back to my hips, angled them and grinded against his. Fuck. Just fuck!

  Tallan, meet Destry’s dick. You’re about to be really good friends.

  His hands roamed up my sides, over my breasts and then behind my back. With just a twist of his fingers my breasts fell out of my bra on display. His eyes never left mine as his hands brushed over them and I gasped feeling my nipples harden. Destry’s mouth curved into a smile, eyes trained on mine, so intent, yet, somewhat confused at the same time.

  Why hasn’t he kissed me yet?

  I felt ridiculous being naked in front of him. Absolutely ridiculous. Like I didn’t even compare to the sexiness that was him.

  With his hands cupping them again, his thumbs rubbed over my nipples, and then pinched, hard as they puckered in response. My body jumped at the sensation but I didn’t have time to respond when Destry replaced his mouth where his hands were. His soft tongue caressed my nipples. I was jealous of my nipples because he hadn’t even kissed me yet. I moaned though, my hands flying to fist his thick dark hair, forcing his head to stay there. He certainly had no complaints and did as I asked. Rocking against my hips, I felt his erection straining to be released. He wanted this badly. But he hadn’t removed his shorts.

  What the fuck?

  “Take these off.” Raising my feet from the floor, I used them to try to pull down his shorts.

  “I can’t.” He mumbled around my nipple, shaking his head slightly. “When I take them off, I’m fucking you. When you scream, I’m not stopping.”

  Oh, uh… damn.

  Destry’s mouth moved from my right nipple, to my left and then up my chest. His hands moved to cradle my head, angling it so he could kiss the exposed skin of my neck.

  Damn you. Kiss me!

  Teasing me some more, open mouth kisses assaulted my heated skin. I couldn’t get enough and judging by his frantic movements, he couldn’t either.

  “Destry,” I moaned. “Please, just fuck me. I’m practically begging you.”

  I don’t know why but he truly surprised me right then.

  He made a throaty sound, like a rumble from deep within and shook my body and made me shiver. “Do you know what you’re asking for?” His mouth was at my jaw moving toward my mouth, slowly.

  “I do, please!” More than anything, I was dying for him to finally kiss me. He’d been so close but hadn’t and just when I thought he might, he pulled back. Did he have something against kissing?

  When his hips pushed forward and I knew what I
was missing all this time. This. Being fucked. Who am I kidding, I knew all along I was missing this.

  Destry smiled, one side higher than the other, drawing back to look at me. The smile he gave me was one I hadn’t seen yet, as he searched my eyes. It wasn’t a playful smile, nor was it teasing or condescending. It was just a smile, almost boyish in a sense. It displayed his youth in a way I wouldn’t have expected from him.

  Holding my head with both hands, he leaned in, tentatively, teasing now. But then it happened.

  His mouth lowered to mine, soft and gentle as his lips parted mine. Before I knew it, his tongue was pleading with mine.

  He kissed me.

  Destry Stone kissed me.

  His kissing, much like anything else he did was full of passion. With every move he made I felt alive and the energy pulsing through me, as if he was seeping life back into me. Life I didn’t even know I was missing. I whimpered, trying desperately to get closer to him as our lips went frantic, my arms wrapped around his neck. He was grabbing at my thighs, pushing himself between my legs, basically dry humping the fuck out of me as his lips did their own fucking. Our mouths went crazy, assaulting each other, tongues sliding together, lips twisting, sucking, an all in sort of kiss. My lungs ached for a breath but I wasn’t willing to stop. It was the kind of kiss I would give up breathing to feel. I would die for it as drastic as that sounded.

  While his hands were strong and confident as they swept over me earlier, dominating in a sense, his mouth wasn’t. It’s the softer side of him as long as he’s not speaking. I never heard anything nice these last few weeks from his sharp tongue but his lips, they were tender, caressing, loving.

  After a moment, Destry eased away, slightly, needing to breathe and I was pleasantly happy to see that he was just as breathless, panting, and incapable of saying anything. His hands did wander though, south, and exactly where I wanted them to be. Strong long fingers caressed between my legs. He pushed in, instantly wet with my arousal and he felt it. A low rumble escaped him. Pushing his fingers so deep I felt his knuckles pressing about me, I squeezed my eyes shut rolling my hips into his hand.