Run to Love (Triple R Book 1) (4 page)

“So next Monday’s training won’t come soon enough, will it?” She shoved my shoulder.

“Actually, he’s giving me a second session on Friday. For free.”

“No shit!”

“Yeah, you’re not going to believe what he said.”

She leaned in closer. “What?”

“He asked me to give him another chance to work me until I’m dripping with sweat everywhere and my muscles are screaming for release.”

She fanned herself. “I think I’m dripping … down there.”

I made a disgusted face at Willow’s uncouth comment but followed my reaction up with a closed-mouth giggle. “I know he meant the comment to be strictly professional, but damn, I about melted into the commercially carpeted floor!” I acted like I fainted into the sofa, and Willow laughed.

After we watched a Johnny Depp double feature of
Chocolat
and
Benny and Joon
, it was right before midnight when we turned off the TV and cleaned up the living room and kitchen. I had a noon start tomorrow since it was my night to work until close at eight p.m. I usually slept in a little before I went to work out. I hit my cozy feather comforter-covered bed right at midnight, but I tossed and tossed and turned and turned. My body wouldn’t unwind.

Staring up at the ceiling, I realized what needed to happen. Damn, I’ll owe Willow twenty dollars.

I opened the drawer in my nightstand and took out my special pink vibrator, hoping Willow was already asleep after her three martinis.

I turned on the quietly humming soft plastic to the lowest buzz and imagined Jude’s full lips started at my nipples as I grazed the toy over each raised peak, his wet lips encircling each of my quarter-sized light pink areola, pulling on my erect nipples. I moaned softly as the light vibrations sent an ache through my breasts. I glided the tip of the vibrator down my body, teasing my belly button, imagining Jude would do the same until I was writhing for more. Only when I couldn’t take the heavenly torture, he would lower his tongue through my tastefully trimmed but not shaved mound. My vision morphed with him guiding himself down so he was face-to-face with the part of me that was blistering heat from the inside out. His hot breath scorched the delicate skin between my legs with want and need to please me.

I pictured him looking up at me from his prone position between my raised legs, licking his beautiful crimson-red lips and throwing me the twisted smirk he had on yesterday as I walked past him when I left the gym. I stopped for a moment to tease my clit with the bulbous tip of the vibrator, and my whole body responded with a shiver of pre-delight. Lowering my hand, I slid the soft plastic through my already dripping wetness, fantasizing that Jude’s lips and teeth were skimming over the outer and inner folds of my body, teasing, pulling, and licking until I was ready to explode from his tender yet confident attention. I guided the toy into my wetness, where the bulb end hit my G-spot perfectly and the little butterfly vibrated right against my engorged button, sending zings of pleasure throughout my body.

I hit the second setting on the push-button control, imagining his tongue alternating between my wet core and flicking my clit, teasing as he held me on the edge, building my internal tension until he plunged deep into my core with his tongue. I imagined his large hands holding my thighs at his will.

I thrashed on the bed, my body readying for a release, my thighs tensed, as pants and moans of extreme enjoyment escaped my mouth one after another. I pressed the button for the highest vibration setting and exploded in a thrilling rush of heat that seared long and unforgivingly through every muscle of my body like lightning through a June Nebraska sky. I murmured his name in reverence as the waves of climax washed over me for so long that I lost my breath and all reality, fully immersed in the fantasy.

I removed the toy and dropped my orgasm-shattered and totally relaxed arms to the bed.

“Holy shit!” I mumbled.

“You can say that again!” Willow said dryly through the wall. “And you owe me twenty bucks!”

We both laughed so hard and for so long that it was well after midnight before I got to sleep.

One of the best nights of sleep I’ve had in a long time.

Chapter Four

I woke Zane to tell him I’d wash his sheets if he carried them to the washer. They were a human petri dish of fluids, and I wasn’t about to touch them. He stood, and I gave him a few choice cuss words for the birthday suit view and left the room shaking my head. His fondness for walking around nude didn’t bother me, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed constantly seeing his multi-pierced junk. This being his place and me living here practically rent-free, I didn’t complain. I heard him divesting his bed of the covers. He walked into the living room and before I could move, the disgusting bedsheets covered my body.

“What the hell! Dude!” I scrambled from the sofa, to get out from under what I could only imagine was semen, lady-part juice, and K-Y Jelly-coated material. “Zane! Take your nasty sheets to the washing machine, you douche!”

Zane laughed at my reaction, picked up the fabric, and headed off to the laundry room. In a minute, the washer whirred and when he returned he was wearing a pair of lounge pants from the dryer.
Thank God.

“Have today off, bro?” Zane planted his ass in the leather chair. He slid his feet onto the ottoman and nudged Ninja to move from his favorite place to curl up. Zane’s eyes narrowed in on the cat as he stretched and jumped onto the coffee table, also designated a “cat-free zone”. I grabbed Ninja and moved him to the sofa before my brother threw a fit a two-year-old would be impressed with.

              “Yeah, Wednesdays and Saturdays and most Sundays, it’s rotating.” I rifled through some magazines on the coffee table.

“Your boss agreed to that?”

“I explained to Blake that I already took a bartending job at Two Fine for the weekends and coming in three hours after closing would be rough. Still, I kind of thought I’d have to quit Two Fine. Glad I don’t. I like it, fast-paced, good tips, and great staff.”

Zane grabbed the TV remote from the table. “So how did your first two days go at Triple R?”

“Better than I expected. I already have four clients booked for weekly appointments, one for twice a week, and I’m thinking I’ll get this girl, Presley, to commit to me tomorrow.”

“You make it sound like she’s going to marry you.” He switched the TV channel.

“What did you say?” I suspended my searching of the magazines. My heart tripped in a weird and fast rhythm when I replayed his words in my mind.

He shook his head. “Fuck. I don’t remember.” His shoulders shrugged away his interest in the question. “Anyway, did you ever call Yori’s sister?”

“Yes.”

Zane’s lips tipped into a creepy smile and raised his eyebrows. “So are you going to do it?”

“Yes.” I attempted to read a magazine article on nutrition.

Zane knew better than to continue asking questions, especially when I only gave him one-word answers. Soon I would stop answering the questions, which were grating on my patience and none of his business, and ignore him.

“Wanna go to lunch?” He smartly changed the subject.

“Only if you’re buying, little brother.”

After he showered and put on more than lounge pants, we drove to Petrow’s for delicious burgers with combo onion rings/fries and chocolate shakes. I didn’t eat like this every day, but my brother did.

Zane inherited Mom’s incredible metabolism. Plus, his all-night workouts with the wonder twins probably burned whatever extra calories he consumed during the day. He was an avid soccer player during the summer, and quickness was a benefit to staying trim. He accomplished whatever fitness goals he had in our home gym in the basement. I tried the machine. Didn’t hate it. Just preferred the Triple R atmosphere.

I worked hard to maintain my chiseled body. Zane liked his leaner—a personal choice that I supported as long as he was healthy about it, but eating this greasy, albeit delicious, crap every day was a ticket to cardiac problems. That said, I was far from obsessive about my own body. I didn’t ingest a protein/supplement shake for every meal, and I didn’t cut and bulk like competitive bodybuilders. I stayed healthy with reasonable nutrition and smart training.

When we arrived back at the duplex, we spent time cleaning up the yard. It had been a long winter, and as far as I could tell, Zane hadn’t made an effort on the yard the last two years he owned the place. My brother was less than thrilled with my suggestion to get the work done, but he didn’t complain.

After we finished, we sat in the living room watching DVR-recorded comedy shows.

“A, a, a, a, a … b, b, b, b … c, c, c, c…” Zane imitated the gut-busting instructions to improve his oral skills in the bedroom.

“Shape up, Saylor! Vaginas deserve respect!” I added.

“That’s ‘cause penises is easy and vaginas is hard.” We both cracked up.

We watched several more episodes to pass the time and entertain our inner immature teenage boys. Our dad had raised us right and the immaturity would cease quickly, but it was still entertaining to let go with Zane. I’d never tell the pain in my ass, but I’d missed him.

After making and sharing dinner, I packed a bag with a robe and flip-flops.

“Have fun, bro. Don’t get too excited,” Zane quipped as I left through the front door.

I flipped him the bird and slammed the door. Had to admit, I was a little nervous. Maybe that is a good thing in this case.

As I entered my black Ford F-150 XLT, the girls from next door, Yori and Britney, walked down their steps and across the driveway for their nightly Zane visit. Yori was an Asian-American woman in her early twenties, a petite beauty at 5’1”, with perfectly shaped, classic red-rose lips and dark, shiny, chin-length hair. Britney had long, wavy chestnut-brown hair with big brown doe-eyes. She was at least 5’8”, an All-American cowgirl in her mid-twenties. They made an interesting duo. As long as my brother was happy with the attractive grouping, I would stay out of whatever it was that was going on.

“Hey, Jude, have fun tonight,” Yori yelled with a shit-eating grin when I rolled down my window. Her sister Simi probably had talked to her.

“Thanks, Yori. Don’t have too much fun with my brother. He’s starting to look like he’s dehydrated from fluid loss.”

She laughed. “I think it’s only movie night, so the poor baby can recover.”

“I never agreed to that,” Britney said, stomping her boots across the concrete.

Yori sent her an annoyed headshake. Trouble in paradise?

“Good night, ladies.” I didn’t want to know anything more.

“Night,” they both said as I leaned back into my truck and headed off to show what genetics and years of training had blessed me with.

****

My morning started with semi-disappointment. No Jude sighting at the gym. After last night’s amazing semi-pornographic use of his image to get myself off, I could have used a little inspirational reminder of his handsome face. It was almost like I missed him.

You barely know him.

Emerson worked out before she started her queen-bitch shift at the front desk. In the locker room, I heard her talking to another gym member about her plans for the weekend. Because I had no life, I listened in on hers.

“You know the hot new trainer?” Her voice was what I imagined a Barbie doll’s would sound like.

Please, don’t let it be Jude.

“You mean Mr. Fuck-me-eyes?” The other blonde adjusted her boobs in the mirror.

Probably Jude.

“Yeah. Well, I’m meeting him for a drink on Friday, and before breakfast the next morning I’m going to find out what size man missile he’s hiding under those gym shorts.”

I rolled my eyes at her vulgar comment but quickly fantasized about what hidden treasure might await a lucky lady. I bet his manhood epitomized perfect. Long, but not excessive or porn length, and he’d know how to work what he had. Veiny like the rest of his body, and probably warm like his touch. I imagined the rim of the head bulged like a mushroom and was ready to rub on a G-spot to give the ultimate in pleasure. I am already hornier than last night … lovely!

Compared to Emerson, there was no way Jude would ever see anything in me. She was beautiful, and I was … just Presley. Always a crisis away from overeating or becoming a couch potato. If I settled for having Jude as my trainer and enjoyed mind-numbingly fantastic Jude-based fantasies until I came across the next guy who found me tolerable, it had to be enough. That had to be enough because believing I could be more to Jude was a different kind of fantasy. It was a delusion.

I stopped off to pick up an arrangement of fruit dipped in chocolate for the front desk staff at the auto mall. They giggled with happiness when I delivered the treat. From that point on, like a nitro-boosted car, the day ran super fast. I finally got ahold of two out of three other referrals from yesterday, and there was another slip on my desk when I returned from a late afternoon meal. That tasty fruit always did the job.

To my benefit, Drexel had done nothing to endear himself today. He called both of the phone receptionists by the wrong name in front of me. At the same time! It’s Jillian, not Jill, and Avery, not Ava. You self-centered jerk!
They rolled their eyes when he turned away and we giggled like schoolgirls. I made three test-drive appointments for the next day. An hour before closing, the Camry couple from the day before rolled back into the dealership and in a surprise move paid cash for the vehicle and the sale closed successfully.

GM Charlie met me on the showroom floor. “Excellent month, Presley.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

“You do know with only one day left in the month, you’re only five closed sales from overtaking Drexel, right?”

I spun my head to face him. “What?”

“He’s had a pretty good month, but you’ve been keeping him on his toes every day.”

And two of those sales technically should have been mine, so I would be only three down.

“I’m doing my best.”

“I know, and someday soon you’ll be on top. I can just imagine it. You can do it, Presley.”

Charlie always quietly cheered for me. I questioned what he thought about Drexel as a person, but since Drexel knew how to sell cars, Charlie put up with his childish behavior.

“Why don’t you head out? Only ten minutes left for the day and I know you have your class to get to.” He gave a head jerk toward the front door.

“Thanks, Charlie!” I was mentally ready to go so I physically moved away before he could take the offer back. Not that he ever would.

After changing my clothes into jeans and a baby blue screen-print t-shirt with sneakers, I made the short trip across town to the local West Omaha art studio, Graphite and Acrylic. I participated in a sketching class to keep up on my art skills. Hadn’t looked at the online schedule for tonight, but I hoped for something other than a bowl of fruit. Nothing was more boring than sketching a bowl of fruit.

My love life is.

I arrived early and wasted no time setting up my easel with a large sketchpad, arranging my graphite sketching pencils by tip size in the container. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement at the front of the class, but in my effort to look around the cumbersome easel, I clipped my pad with my elbow and the already precariously balanced spiral-bound paper started to tumble to the floor. I scrambled to keep everything from crashing to the ground and missed what our instructor, Simi, said.

After adjusting the paper back to its original place, I watched my friend Edwyn’s eyes pop wide open, and he produced an audible soft gasp. I’d sold him and his partner a fuel-efficient used Prius last year.

“What?” I asked.

“Um … yum.” He extended the
m
on yum until I giggled, but he didn’t take his eyes off the sketching subject matter.

“More fruit?” I chuckled as he shook his head slowly.

I glanced around my large sketchpad and after my brain registered what was at the front of the room, I let go of a sexually frustrated sound that should have embarrassed me, but at this point, who the hell cared!

I do.

Standing at the front of the class—nude, full-frontal, buck naked, butt naked, stark naked, in a birthday suit, unclothed, bare, in the buff,
au naturel
, in the raw, leafless, without a stitch of clothing—was Jude!

I moved back behind my sketchpad and blushed every pink and red color creatable on an artist’s palette.

“What?” Edwyn started his sketch. His eyes darted between the subject and the white paper.

“I know him!” I replied in a frantic whisper.

“Awkward.” He tipped his head at me. “I’m sure he’s a professional. Now professional what, I’d be interested in knowing. I’d be up for a threesome with that tasty piece of man-candy. Even if I had to pay for it.” His eyes bugged out of his head.