Hard Bodies

HARD BODIES VONNA HARPER MS Re ade r (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-301-2 Mobipocke t (PRC) ISBN # 1-84360-302-0 Othe r available formats (no ISBNs are assigne d): Adobe (PDF), Rocke tbook (RB), & HTML (c) Copyright Vonna Harpe r, 2002. All Rights Re se rve d, Ellora's Cave . Ellora's Cave , Inc. USA Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK Edite d by Martha Punche s Cove r Art by Darre ll King

Chapter One He lay on his back, powerful legs straddling the narrow bench, thighs and crotch exposed; he was the next thing to naked. This is what I am, his body language said. Take it or leave it. Not that any woman alive could ignore that prime piece of meat. Brandy Schuller couldn't take her eyes off his massive chest and arms, couldn't think beyond the strength exuding from him. Dressed in a skin-tight, sleeveless muscle shirt and nylon shorts that barely contained his thighs and the bulge that fairly screamed cock, he looked more than human. Licking her lips, Brandy leaned against the wall and stared at Franko Priest. The longer she studied the awesome mass of him, the more her skin hummed. No wonder. His muscles were his trademark, the way he supported himself, his in-your-face message to the world. As for why she couldn't stop thinking about straddling him and begging him to impale her, well, chalk that up to insanity. He remained as motionless as he'd been when she walked into the unnervingly empty gym. He held weighted dumbbells at chest level in preparation for a lift, his taut arm muscles looking in as superb condition as the rest of him. Hard rock music blared throughout the large, well-equipped facility, but at a few minutes past midnight, she and Priest were the only people in the building. Although she'd known it would just be the two of them, unexpected nervousness slid through her. Her gaze remained on the man who'd shattered several world weight-lifting records. Priest, only Priest could help her. If he didn't scare her to death first. Slow and steady, he began pushing the dumbbells into the air. The pectoral muscles across his upper chest contracted, as did his triceps. They grew larger, expanding to impossible proportions. What sane woman would dare crawl on top of him? What insane one wouldn't fantasize? Well, she admitted, it wasn't the first time she'd had those thoughts when it came to Priest. The dumbbell chest press was a deceptively simple movement—weights up as far as the arms could extend, then down. He completed one rep and without resting, began another. He could do the same to her, lift her over him, then bring her down, down until he'd buried his cock in her heated pussy. Oh brother; you are getting carried away tonight, aren't you? He seemed to have pulled deep inside himself and become nothing more than muscle, bone, and nerves. She'd seen larger men on the posters that decorated the gym walls, but she certainly hadn't seen a more total package in the flesh. She figured his height at around six foot four, and someone had told her that he weighed just under three hundred pounds. Three hundred pounds! On an ordinary mortal, that would be fat. But everything about Priest shouted muscle. Muscle she'd be spending the next hour with…unless she chickened out.

No! No turning and running; she'd come too far. Five reps now, pecs knotting and hard as rock. Features contorted, he grunted through the sixth lift, paused a millisecond longer than before, then surged into number seven. She counted with him, felt her own muscles burn and tremble. Her pussy seemed to liquefy, although with anticipation or fear she couldn't say. Eight. Nine. Ten. Halfway through the eleventh upward movement, he bellowed. The weights thudded to the rubberized mat under the bench, just missing him. He lay there as if assessing his body. Watching him run a hand over his upper arm, she swore she could feel his sweat-slickened flesh. Beyond all sanity, she imagined her fingers on him, absorbing his heat and raw power. Franko Priest had been a professional football player who now devoted himself to weight-lifting and bodybuilding. In addition, no one in this part of the state knew more about how the human body worked…how to push it to the edge and beyond. She'd come here for that. Only that. He sat up, muscles rolling and bunching. He had a football player's thick neck and impossibly wide shoulders. The photographs of him posing during a competition didn't do him justice. Not even his reputation, spoken in awed tones by lesser mortals, had prepared her for her first look at him three months ago. Since then she'd learned that although he took physical conditioning seriously, he didn't expect perfection from those who came to him for advice, thank goodness. She couldn't guess at his percentage of body fat, but there seemed to be nothing except skin over his muscles. Was he soft anywhere? Maybe his cock when it wasn't erect. "Have you seen enough, Ms. Schuller?" She winced and took an unconscious step back. Unfortunately, the wall had no give to it. "Sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to distract you." He slid off the bench and stood up, a confident jungle cat. His long, steel-like legs ate up the space separating them, and his mouth lifted in what might become a smile given half a chance. Above that was a long, narrow nose and deep-set chocolate eyes. He was huge, larger up close than she'd expected! She had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. How that flimsy shirt managed to at least marginally control his sculptured chest she didn't know. His shorts were rolled up over his thighs, further accenting his minimally sheathed cock and balls. "I could use a distraction," he said. "The truth is, I was getting bored, and I don't dare max out if I don't have a spotter. What do you think of what you saw?" She swallowed and tried not to breathe in the smell of his sweat. "Impressive lift." Chuckling, he clenched his fists and struck a classic pose. His muscles expanded even more. His veins looked like garden-hoses snaking just under the skin. "I'm glad you think so. I've certainly had

enough practice." It was her turn to speak; unfortunately, her throat contacted. He folded his arms across his chest…not that they actually folded…and looked down at her. "All right," he said. "We need to get started. First, how honest do you want me to be?" I don't know. "Honest. Completely." "All right then. To begin, your breasts are too big." "What?" she gasped. "Your breasts are too large." "They're mine, all mine if that's what you're getting at." She gave a half thought to slapping him. This was hardly the way she'd expected their first session to begin. "Back up, Brandy. This is an objective assessment, not a come-on." Not sure she was relieved or disappointed; she struggled not to look down at herself. Priest had told her to meet him at this ungodly hour because it was the only time he had free. In the three months she'd been coming to the gym, she'd come to respect his expertise, and he came highly recommended. Besides, whenever he saw her, he spoke to her, abet about nothing more earth-shattering than the weather or to offer a suggestion about how to target a particular muscle during an exercise which allowed her to consider him a casual friend. Never before had it been just the two of them. But after everything she'd been through this year, she wasn't about to turn tail and run. "Let's begin by clarifying what you want to get out of this," he continued. "Otherwise, I'm not going to be able to give you what you need." He leaned forward and rested his hands on the wall behind her. She was trapped, his muscle-padded chest brushing her breasts with his every breath. "Also, I need to be as efficient as possible with my time. In addition to being the pro here and staying in shape for competitions, I work with the college's athletic department." "I know," she said, glad to have that to talk about. "I've heard you and some of the other guys discussing the football team. Look, if you're trying to tell me you don't have the time…" "No. That's not what I'm saying. I'm making a commitment to you because…because I heard you'd been badly hurt last year." He knew that about her? "I'm not sure," she stammered, suddenly off balance. In addition to feeling exposed and vulnerable, she also felt as if she was becoming part of him, as if her own flesh and sorry muscles were melting into him. Her hands hung by her sides. It was all she could do not to cup them around his cock. "What aren't you sure about?" If he guessed what had distracted her…"I may have made a mistake. I have so much to learn. You've seen me blundering around on the equipment. I should start with someone less…" He was becoming aroused. She sensed rather than saw his cock swell.

"I should have known that was going to happen." He looked down at himself, then shrugged. "A good workout affects everything." She'd never heard that but wasn't about to call him on it. Neither did she want to discuss his condition. "Listen to me, Brandy." He'd been keeping a minimum amount of separation between them, but now he let himself sag forward so the tip of his cock poked her belly. "Bodybuilding is physical. I accepted that a long time ago. You need to too." Suddenly angry, or maybe dangerously close to letting him know he was turning her on, she dropped down and slipped out from under him. He turned toward her. To her shock, heat built in her cunt, and she felt heavy between her legs. "What is this about?" she demanded. "I'm paying good money for some professional advice. That's all I want, not…not this." She indicated his penis. "I'm not going to apologize for a normal male reaction. Besides, I don't believe it turns you off. In fact…" His mouth twitched. "Unless I'm not reading you correctly, off is hardly what you're feeling. Correct?"

Chapter Two

She should have told him he had no idea what he was talking about, but not only had her clitoris come to life, but her breasts were swelling against the workout bra she wore under her loose cotton shirt. "I want you to be absolutely honest with me," Priest said, his eyes on her breasts. "That way I'll know how to handle things tonight. Tell me. Why are you here?" Why indeed. She'd focus on her determination, her dream. Forget this damn energy between them. Concentrating on her every move, she walked over to the bench he'd been using and perched on one end. Priest followed her. He didn't sit down but rested a foot on the bench. That placed his still-erect cock within reach. She fought the fantasy of placing her mouth around that warm, hard flesh. "You're right," she admitted. "I was hurt last winter, an accident." She'd look at his high-topped tennis shoe, not the rest of him. "Before that, my idea of a workout was to go for a run several mornings a week. But the physical therapy…" "What kind of accident?" "Automobile." She took a deep and hopefully settling breath. "A drunk hit us head-on." "Us?" "My boyfriend and me. My ex-boyfriend that is." Cliff had been there when she woke up three days after the accident, but by the time her casts had come off, he'd eased himself out of her life. He'd assured her that he wasn't repulsed by her scars, but she didn't believe him. He nodded as if understanding the meaning behind the word ex. "What were the extent of your injuries?" "Two broken legs, equally broken ribs. The doctors had to go in and do some repairs." She pressed her hand over her belly, her fingers lingering over the ugly, still-healing scar. "No restrictions on what you can do?" "Not any more." She was still unbelievably aware of the aura of sex radiating from Priest, but he seemed to care about what had happened to her, and that make talking easier. "At first, all I could do was the program they set up for me at the rehabilitation clinic. I saw people who'd never walk again. That got to me." It had gone deeper than that and become an obsession, but she wasn't about to tell Priest that. "I put regaining my physical abilities first. That got me past the nightmares." His eyes darkened, and his expression turned somber. "Sometimes nightmares are part of the healing process." What did he mean by that? "This…" She pointed at the small, round scars that ran down either side of her shinbone. If they repulsed him, she'd deal with it. After all, she'd learned to master her disbelief over what had happened to her and had come to terms with her flaws. "This is where the

doctors used rods to stabilize the shattered bone while it healed. I had to wear an external contraption resembling those halo things you see on people with broken necks." He nodded, then lifted her leg, placed her foot on his thigh and began probing her shin and calf with fingers that had electrical currents in them. "What are you doing?" "Checking structural stability." This was her patched-together leg, not some building. It certainly didn't feel like a piece of wood or steel. In truth, he'd burned a route between her calf and crotch. Thank goodness for panties and faded shorts. Otherwise, he'd see her reddened and moist cunt. Of course, if he did, maybe he'd finger it and probe her. Only, maybe this perfect physical creature wanted nothing to do with a scarred woman. "So." Still handling her leg as if it belonged to him, he drew out the word. "While you were going through physical therapy, something clicked. You vowed not to take your body for granted any more." "Yes.” Because I couldn't reject it. "What's your goal?" Although he now merely circled her ankle with fingers that could double as chains, she felt the contact throughout her…mostly in her too-long unsatisfied clit. She took a deep breath and let it all tumble out. "I want to compete in weight lifting. I worked so hard getting to this point. I—I have to be proud of something." He stared at her. "What do you squat?" She told him. "And your bench?" She told him that as well, trying not to compare her measly accomplishment to what she'd just seen him do. "What do you weigh?" "About a hundred twenty. It used to be about five pounds less, but now that I've put on some muscle…" "The pros will leave you in their dust." Upset, she yanked her leg free and got to her feet. She stalked away, then forced herself to turn around. "I have a pretty good idea what you're thinking," he said. He reached down and repositioned his swollen cock in the too-tight shorts. "Why should I discourage you? But I have a pretty good idea what prompted you to ask for help. Maybe better than you do." Once again he'd said something that hinted at emotional depth she hadn't expected, only she couldn't

concentrate on that. If she touched his shaft the way he just had, everything would change. The heat and moisture in her crotch left no doubt of that. Damn him for being such an animal! Pure, male animal. "You're here because you nearly died," he said, his voice low and deep. "As a result of what happened, you aren't the person you were before, and you're trying to learn who you've become." She could only stare at him and listen to her heart beat like a demented drum. How could he understand her so well? He walked toward her. "Your perception of your body has changed, right?" She nodded. He'd reached her. Clasped her shoulders in what felt like a master's grip. She stared up at him, felt his essence throughout her. "You're a survivor." "Y-es. Yes, I am." "But it goes deeper than that." He held her upper body immobile, but that didn't matter because she was losing herself in his touch, his words. His emotions.

Chapter Three

Brandy stood on unsteady legs as Priest turned down the volume on the sound system. His return seemed to take forever, yet didn't give her enough time. He didn't seem to be looking at so much as into her, and he hadn't lost any of his erection. "Teenagers." He shook his head. "They want everything loud. Now…" He paused and seemed to draw into himself. "We're going to do some things you've probably never done before. You won't understand why now but eventually you will." "What…things?" "Fully accepting your body. Seeing it in a way you never have." Oh god, what had she gotten herself into? "I haven't heard of that technique." He was too damn close; she had to put space between them. "It's something that came out of my own experience." He placed his hands around her waist and pulled her against him so his cock once again probed her. How can I think? You represent every woman's deepest dream and greatest fear. "We're going to start with trust," he whispered. "You're aware of my professional reputation, right?" "I think so." "Let's put it this way. The district school system wouldn't have come to me if they hadn't first checked me out, right?" "I guess not." "No, they wouldn't. And neither would I be the pro here." Before she could guess what he had in mind, he pulled up her shirt and slipped his fingers under her shorts' hem. His fingertips burned the flesh on her waist. "What are you doing?" she gasped. "Introducing you to your body. Actually reintroducing you." What are you talking about? Oh god, one touch and… He continued his exploration of skin that already felt as if electrical currents had been applied. He spread his fingers over her belly, thumbs pushing into her navel. His chest prevented her from seeing what he was doing…not that she needed to. Lifting her unbelievably heavy hands, she grasped his forearms which felt like cement covered by velvet. Instead of trying to push him away, she let her head drop back and concentrated on what he was doing. He seemed to be tasting her, nails and fingertips sometimes caressing, sometimes exploring. When he found the life-changing scar that began below her navel, she sucked in her breath and shivered. "That's what I wanted," he said. Although she couldn't take a normal breath, although the heat in her

pelvis had turned to cold fear, he must not care. If he wasn't who he was…male animal…she would have reminded herself that doctors and nurses had done this to her more times than she could count. "Wanted?" she finally thought to ask. "To know what happened." She told herself that now that he'd found the scar, he wouldn't want to touch her, but she was wrong. Inch by inch, cell by cell, his fingers worked their way down the still-raised and reddened scar. Something about his almost analytical search helped her dismiss it. It was, after all, proof that she'd survived. When he reached her muff, he brushed aside her pubic hair. Her legs turned liquid, and it was all she could do to keep them under her. She sucked in small, inadequate gulps of air that tasted of him. "What…" Slow, so slow that it felt as if they were dancing, he backed her to the wall. He didn't just familiarize himself with her scar. He painted it, recorded its length and breadth. Maybe he even knew how deep it went and how much she hated it. "What did you think when you first saw it?" he asked with his middle finger now so close to her pussy that surely he felt the heat he'd created. "What…what are you doing?" She still gripped his forearms, at least as much of their mass as her fingers could grasp. One pounding song ended and another began. The air conditioning hummed and growled. Outside, night waited. Inside…who the hell knew? Before she could guess what he was going to do, he slipped his hands out from under her shorts. Not trusting him—or maybe it was herself she didn't trust—she kept hold of his forearms. She didn't dare take her eyes off him and couldn't think about anything except the hot, wet burning between her legs. Grabbing her shirt hem, he lifted it until her midsection was exposed. She tried to look down, but he pressed his fist against the underside of her breasts, holding her where he wanted her. Still using that languid movement he was so good at, he tugged down on her shorts. When cool air brushed her gut, she knew he'd exposed everything a bikini didn't cover. He tipped his head to one side and studied her with the intensity of a surgeon planning his first cut. "Flat belly," he said when she sucked it in, as if that would keep any part of her from him. "Not completely but with a little roundness. Good." Good? For what? Oh shit. Her cunt felt weighted, hot and heavy. He was handling her as if she was a side of beef, and here she was, turned on. "Look, this is enough! I don't know what the hell…" She shoved away from the wall and collided

with his awesome chest. His pressed his fist against her breastbone and again forced her back. "You don't have to understand," he said. "So far, only I do. You don't like your body very much, do you?" Several seconds passed before she realized he was rubbing his hand back and forth over her ribcage as if searching for something. "Once your body simply functioned to accomplish tasks," he went on. "When you became a teenager, you discovered that it was capable of some very pleasant, even erotic responses, and that fascinated you. Then you had your accident. Now when you look at yourself, you see the scars. You build muscles and get stronger so, maybe, you won't think about those scars, but you haven't gotten there yet." "That's none of your business." He made a sound that some might consider a laugh. "That’s where you’re wrong, baby. Tonight everything about you is my business. Brandy, we're more than acquaintances chatting over the water cooler. You and I focus on our bodies in ways most people don't. We wouldn't be here tonight if we didn't. Right now the focus in on you, what you are physically. That's what you're paying me for. And even if you weren't, this is something I've wanted to do from the first day I saw you." Maybe that comment should have her running for the door, but she didn't, in part because she was drawn to his intensity, in part because although she'd had her share of erotic fantasies, they'd never taken this turn. "Do you remember what I said about your breasts?" "That…they were too big." Before she could ask what he was up to now, he again took hold of her shirt and unceremoniously pulled it up and over her breasts. Her serviceable sports bra flattened and spread her breasts so they wouldn't jiggle. He spread a single hand over both breasts. She'd had a few lovers. None had been able to do that…not before now. "Yes," he muttered. "They'll do." "For what? They're mine, not yours." "Tonight, technically they're mine. At least they are unless you tell me otherwise, and I don't think you're going to. By the end of the evening, hopefully you'll understand why I'm doing what I am." When, although confused, she nodded, he picked her up and carried her over to an incline bench. As he lowered her onto it so her legs straddled the padded plastic and her crotch pressed against the short, narrower seat at the bottom, he deftly pulled off her shirt. Fighting disbelief and anticipation, she gaped up at him. Not explaining a damn thing, he pressed her shoulders against the cool, cushioned bench.

"Stay there," he said. For some insane reason, she did exactly that. The seat did precious little to quiet her awakened cunt. She ground her pelvis against it, but all that accomplished was to increase her awareness of how turned on she was. Where had Priest gone? She'd half sat up before he returned with a weight plate in each hand. She watched as he locked the plates onto the ends of the long barbell resting on a rack above her head. Observing him didn't take her mind off her next-to-naked upper body and stand-at-attention nipples. It was almost…hell, her breasts looked as if they'd been placed there for his pleasure. And hers too if he handled them right. Oh god! Her parents would kill her if they saw her. "Take a grip." He indicated the barbell. "I want to see you lift." "You want what?" "To study every aspect of your technique." He turned his attention to her breasts, his gaze burning until her nipples puckered and throbbed. Isn't this carrying things to extreme? "Listen to me, Brandy." His voice came from deep in his belly…the belly she ached to run her hands and lips and tongue and teeth over. "You came to me thinking you want to show the world how strong you've become, but you're wrong. Something else is taking place inside you, something I understand. It's time you did too." Without asking permission, he ran his hand over her upper arm, pressed his heated fingertips into her triceps. She sucked in a breath and held it which was a mistake because that accentuated her breasts. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he slid his hand dangerously close to them. Once again she struggled to control her throbbing cunt by pressing herself against the seat, and had to dig her nails into her palms to keep from grabbing Priest and forcing him to…forcing him to service her. "And…" He drew out the word as if aware of her compromised thinking. "You don't have the muscle potential to compete with the big girls." The only competition she was interested in now was whether they could go at it all night. Where was her dildo when she needed it? Really needed it! "Does that bother you?" You must know what bothers me! "I, ah, don't know what you're talking about." "You're filled with a purpose you never had before. It's not going to go away." He was right. She'd nearly died, and she wanted to shout out her relief over surviving. At least that had been her goal until she'd walked in here and found Priest in all his sexy glory waiting for her. "There's a way." "A…way?" He leaned over her, bringing his mouth so close to hers she nearly clamped her teeth around his

lower lip. "You have to change the way you think about your body. Learn to celebrate it." He'd said something like that before, hadn't he? He hadn't so much as wiggled his fingers since resting them on the outsides of her breasts, not that she'd gotten anywhere trying to ignore them. As long as he leaned over her, she couldn't think of anything except him or want anything except to wrap herself around and over him and feel him down to her bone marrow. "Lift." He jerked his head at the barbell. She needed to tell him she'd been unable to lift that weight more than three times in succession, but if he wanted to see what she was made of, she'd give it to him. Then she'd explain how he could reward her performance. Her arm and chest muscles tensed as she hoisted the bar off the rest and brought it down until the metal pole nearly touched her breasts. Then, feeding off him, she pushed. She had to arch her back a bit in order to fully extend her arms, and when she locked her elbows, her triceps trembled. Trying to ignore what was going on in her pussy, she began the task of lowering the weights. He repositioned himself so he was standing behind her head and locked his hands around her upper arms. His hands on her. Feeling her strength and learning her weakness. Down, down, the bar briefly pressed her breasts, then with a grunt, heaved upward, back arched, sweat popping and breathing like a racehorse. Her muscles burned as she lowered the weight once more. She didn't ask if she had it in her for another push but merely settled herself under the weight and shoved. Nothing happened. Priest was still behind her. and his too-big hands were now on the plates, pressing down. "What are you doing?" she asked. "That's enough." Instead of taking the bar out of her hands, he grasped it and lowered it so it now rested on her middle. The weight held her in place. "What are you doing?" she repeated. He positioned his hands over her breasts, and she had to tilt her head back in order to see him. "You know technique and you're strong," he said. "Get this thing off me." "Soon." She tried to lift her leg so she could get up, but with her crotch against the seat, she lacked leverage. "You have no right." "You came to me." "Not for this!" Instead of agreeing with her, he slipped his hands under the wide bra straps and slowly, oh so slowly, drew them off her shoulders.

"What are you doing?" "Teaching you about your body. Your beautiful, desirable body," he whispered. He ran his fingers over what of her breasts the bra didn't cover. He seemed to have no purpose other than alternating feather-soft strokes with none-too-gentle pinches. She squirmed. His fingers seemed to burn a hot, direct route to her cunt, and she took a noisy breath and tried to press her body into the bench. Although she could have leaned to the side and let the barbell drop to the floor, she didn't. His strokes and pinches picked up speed, concentrated on the exposed swell of breast. She needed more than that, but at the same time, she couldn't imagine telling him to ever stop. He'd called her beautiful, desirable! She couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking, felt the hard-driving rock song throughout her body, thought again of the building empty except for the two of them. Teaching her about her body.

Chapter Four

When she felt the right bra cup being lifted from her breast, she instinctively released the bar and reached for him. However, that caused the bar to press into a rib, forcing her to grab hold of it again. With her elbows locked and the weight distributed throughout her upper body, it didn't feel that heavy, just confining. "You do your job," he said. "I'll do mine." Job! A heartbeat later, she didn't give a damn what he called it. Thanks to her reclining position, she could see what he was doing, not that her nerve endings hadn't made that clear. He slowly rolled the cotton down and over her breast until he'd exposed it. The bunched fabric forced it up and out making her nipples felt like hot rocks. "Full all right," he said. His face a study in concentration, he captured the naked nipple between thumb and forefinger and pulled on it. "Dark, erect." He pressed his palm against her swollen flesh and began rolling her unbelievably sensitive nub back and forth, applying just enough pressure that she was caught between pleasure and pain. The rock song, which just a minute before had been part of the mood, faded into nothing. She couldn't take her eyes off his hand. He was doing more than rolling her nipple from side to side. He also pulled and relaxed, pulled and relaxed until she nearly screamed. Then he pressed his hand against her breast, flattening it against her rib cage. Her captured nub was on fire, the sensation echoing in her cunt. Surviving a horrific auto accident and making it through months of physical therapy had taught her to separate her mind from her body; otherwise she couldn't have handled the pain. This was different. Now she wanted to wrap herself around each and every sensation. Bury herself in them. Become them. Feed on her sex juices. She barely noticed when he exposed her other breast and took it into his possession. He didn't release her right breast but continued the exquisite torture. Sometimes he pressed her breasts together; sometimes he placed his hands in the space between them and pushed down, separating them. She tried to breathe without gasping and struggled to keep her trapped crotch still. She didn't always succeed. Her arms burned a little, alerting her to how long she'd been balancing the bar. Moaning, she whipped her head from side to side. "I can't…" "You're right. I let that go on a little too long." He lifted the weight and dropped it to the mat. She struggled to gather her liquid muscles for the act of sitting up. "You don't want me to stop, do you?" "No," she whispered.

"Good." Pushing her back, he straddled her. Her arms felt so heavy that she let them hang down. With his butt and cock and balls now pressed against her pelvis, she didn't care about anything else. He was still aroused. Still huge and hard. Her clit twitched and pulsed. Beyond any modesty, she lifted her hips toward him and fought to lift her crotch away from the padded plastic. He wouldn't let her and seemed to know just how much of his weight to bring to bear to keep her motionless. His breathing had gotten faster. He leaned forward and came so close that she couldn't keep him in focus. His heat surrounded her, flowed into her belly and from there right to her clit. It throbbed and ached. Begged to be satisfied. He was…oh god, he'd taken a breast in his mouth and was trying to swallow it. Too big. I'm too big for you. Still he kept sucking. A moment before, her cunt had felt as if it was trying to separate itself from the rest of her. Now her clit drew upward into her body as if trying to reach his mouth. Everything buzzed and hummed and heated. Her crotch felt so wet. Could he smell her excitement? Did he care that she couldn't reach herself down there, that as long as the seat was there, he couldn't plunge his cock into her? And she'd let him! The way she felt, she'd jump his bones given half the chance! Her breasts. She'd think about them, not her clitoris. He drew more and more of her into his mouth, then slid his tongue along her breast's underside and washed it with his saliva, causing electricity to burn in her belly. Shaking, she fastened her hands over his cheekbones and drew him down around her. "Oh god, oh god," she chanted. He sucked. "Oh god, what are you…oh god, how did…" He sucked some more. Pressure built in her temple, blinding her and taking her deep inside herself. He was trying to swallow one breast, either that or suckle from it; he'd clamped a hand over the other and imprisoned it. She felt trapped by him. Surrounded by him. Less of herself. Nearly his. "You can't…you can't…" She had no idea what she wanted to say. Wet. Hot. Her clit aching, labial lips swelling and throbbing. "Let…let me up!" His only response was to rake his teeth over her breast and press his tongue against the nub. He was in control, not her. Well, she amended. At least some control. His hard penis and deep, rapid breathing served as proof that he wasn't immune. As for why he was doing this…and she was letting him… "Ow!" She tried to jerk away. "You're biting me!"

Cold air tracked over her wet breast, and the sensation she'd thought was pain disappeared. His butt was resting not exactly lightly on her belly with his swollen cock pressing against his tight shorts. He stared at her, his gaze soft, contemplative even. "Tell me about them," he whispered. "Tell…tell you about my breasts?" "Describe them. How do you feel about them?" "This isn't what…" Taking hold of her sports' bra, he pulled down on it until it wadded around her waist. Then he cupped her breasts and pulled them up and out until they looked like an endorsement for breast enlargement surgery. She should bury her nails in his wrists until she drew blood. Instead, like him, she stared at herself. "I'm a man," he said. "Needless to say, a woman's breasts fascinate me. But although I understand my response, tonight I'm trying to get yours…for both our sakes." That made sense. Kind of. "I…I was the first girl in my class to need a bra," she babbled. "I loved track, but it hurt to run. Mom said it was time to stop doing girl things. She had…we went to a store and she made sure I was fitted for adequate support and coverage." Unlike now. He blew on her breasts, and she sobbed and again tried to free her hot, aching pussy. Before she could make any progress, he clamped his thighs around her. "Not yet," he said. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want; you believe that, don't you?" "I…I think so." He chuckled. "That's a start. What else? When you look at them, what do you see? Be honest. Hold nothing back. Eventually this will all come together for you." He pulled them even further from her ribcage. They felt on fire. "D…D cup." "D-cup." Letting up a little, he ran his thumbnails over her flaming nubs. Pleasure coiled outward from her nipples, then down, heating her pussy. "Stop it," she whimpered. "You don't mean that." No, she didn't. Once again he leaned forward and gently kissed first one breast and then the other. Her mouth sagged open; a tear leaked out and dribbled down the side of her nose. He kissed the tear which nearly made her break down. "The…" She took a breath. "The boys would watch me run. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I had…I had a pretty good idea." "Did you let them see?" "No! My parents…my parents were strict. Once my mother told me I'd been cursed with the kind of body that turns boys on. It was my responsibility to never forget that what I did impacted the family's

reputation." Cursing, Priest slid off her and stood beside the reclining bench. Feeling as weak as a newborn, she scooted back from the seat. The juices too long trapped inside dribbled out. Her clit ached and demanded. Beyond modesty, she reached down and cupped a hand over herself. "No," he said. Ignoring him, she began rubbing her forefinger against her outer lips. The cloth barrier nearly drove her insane, but she couldn't release herself long enough to find the shorts' hem. How had this happened to her? He…was he responsible? Of course he was. "No," he repeated. "Not that way." He took her hand and pulled it away from her aching body. She tried to stand. Once again, he pressed her against the bench. "I've had enough of this!" She struggled to free herself, but of course his strength made a lie of hers. Fighting him—if it could be called that— momentarily distracted her from her just-out-of-reach climax. "I don't believe that." He spoke softly." "Be honest. You love what's been happening, don't you?" "How can you assume you know…" "Because it matters to me; I want you to believe that. And Brandy, what you said about the way you were raised doesn't surprise me." What she didn't need, especially now, was some hard body who fancied himself a shrink. Disgusted with him, or maybe herself, she tried to slap him. He dodged, then pulled her into a sitting position. "Stand up," he said. She did, not because he was in charge…certainly not that. But if she was going to get away from him—which was what she wanted, wasn't it—she had to first get her feet under her. Only now that she had, she couldn't talk herself into putting distance between them. "I want to see you naked," he said. Weakness flooded through her. She tried to look up at him but couldn't drag her gaze off his straining-to-bursting shorts. He wasn't the only one who wanted to see flesh…a lot of it. "What I'm doing," he continued. "It's because I know where you're coming from. And where you need to go." Licking her dry lips, she forced her attention off his cock, or rather its promise under the nylon. Her legs threatened to buckle, and it took every bit of self-control she had not to flex her pussy muscles. "And when…if I do what you asked, what happens then?" "That's up to you." "I…I believe you." "Good."

Her hands shook and were either so numb or sensitive that she could hardly get them to work. Only by repeatedly yanking her mind back from the bulge in Priest's shorts could she slide her shorts down and over her hips. She did so mechanically, a strip tease the furthest thing from her mind. Finally, she leaned over and guided the garment over her knees. Her hands were close to her cunt; a few quick strokes and she'd come. However, before she could put thought into action, he placed a hand on her back and held her there. "Look at yourself," he said. "At your breasts." They dangled, heavy and more than a little ridiculous looking. Releasing the shorts, she cupped her hands over her breasts to take some of the weight. "You couldn't be a runner because they got in the way," he said. "At least that's what your folks told you. When the boys ogled you, you didn't know how to react, right?" "My parents…" "Your conservative, uptight parents saw their little girl turning into a sexy young woman, and they decided to make you as uptight as they were." "You don’t know anything about me!" "Believe me, I do."

Chapter Five

Brandy now stood in front of one of the wall-sized mirrors while Priest stood nearby, arms folded. "What do you see?" he asked. A woman in dire need of sex. "I don't…why are you doing this?" "We're getting there." Her throat went dry. The crotch of her conservative cotton panties was soaked and the spill-over leaked down her thighs. Her skin felt on fire, her breasts so sensitive she wasn't sure she could stand having them touched again. "What do you see?" he repeated. Of all the emotions she'd expected, laughter hadn't been on the radar screen. Just the same, she giggled. "A woman with her bra bunched around her waist. Nothing from the waist up, white panties." "Why white?" "Because…" She looked over at him. He was magnificent, everything the male animal should be. More than a little intimidating, but if she was going to get fucked, who better to do it? Fucked? Oh, please. She pressed her hands against her belly, trying to reach her cunt. "I've always worn white," she managed. "Or pastel." "Never black? Or red." "No." "Why not?" She whirled on him. "I'm not a slut. All right, I'm not a slut!" "Look at yourself. Do you see a slut?" What I see is a woman so far out of her comfort zone she can't remember what it feels like. "No." He didn't touch her, but there was no ignoring the heat from his body. "What I see," he said, "is a young woman with a killer body. High, firm breasts. Small waist with just a hint of a belly. Hips that flare the way a woman's should." She was trembling again and staring at but not seeing the creature in the mirror. Once again she felt her nipples pucker. Her skin was becoming sweat-soaked and her cunt…it pulsed and lubricated itself. "Muscular legs," he continued. "Not a distance runner's long, rangy muscles but solid and well-defined." She pressed harder on her belly and slid her legs a few inches apart. "Firm arms," he continued. His eyes had taken on that soft, almost gentle quality that had unnerved

her before. If he'd looked at her like that back when they'd started acknowledging each other, who knows where their relationshi might be by now. "No extra flesh. Broad shoulders to balance those magnificent breasts." She couldn't breathe. "A body to make your fortune from." "You're kidding," she whispered. "No, I'm not." Something was expected of her, but how could she think with his words—his compliments— caressing her? There wasn't a woman alive who wouldn't die happy if he bedded her. And in this big, empty place, he was saying he liked what he saw. His eyes took the message to the next level. "I want to believe you," she heard herself say. "I want the same thing. What are you afraid of?" "What?" He put his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, then slid his other hand under her panties. Deftly avoiding her belly and the scar there, he worked his fingers between her legs. "You aren't just a student to me, Brandy. And I hope I'm more than just some hunk you hired." "You…you aren't." "Good. You're afraid of your body," he said. "You hate being like that, but it's been ingrained in you. And the scars have made it even worse." "You…don't know me." "Yes, I do." He leaned toward her, causing her to arch her back. Just the same, instead of forcing her legs together to keep him from invading her more than he already had, she bent her knees slightly and further spread herself. "Good," he whispered. "The way it should be. A celebration. Listen to your body. Think of what you love about it." She tried to speak; only a moan came out. "You’ve spent your whole life hearing the tapes your parents put in your head." "I…" "Don't try to talk. Listen to your body. Become it." She did as he ordered, as he promised. He'd kept his fingers still while they were talking, but now he slipped them up, up inside her. She felt herself let go, juices flowing and flooding him. Breathing became a sometimes thing. Her breasts ached. Her belly and cunt, even her thighs felt hot. She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his; he returned her kiss. Comforted and strengthened by the contact, she let him support her.

"There's a sexy woman in there, Brandy. Waiting to come out. Wanting the world to see." What are you talking about? But to ask the question, she'd have to be capable of speech. Silent, she wrapped her arms around him. His fingers moved in and out of her. His thumb angled toward her belly and reached her so-sensitive clit. A tidalwave surged throughout her cunt and brought her within a whisper of a climax. "Not yet," he said. "Much as I want to have sex with you, it's not going to happen until other things have been accomplished. "Oh." She sounded stupid but couldn’t do anything about it. She felt herself being lifted and carried. Her whole body had become like melted butter, her muscles useless. Good! Tonight he could be in charge. Let him be the master, she the willing slave. Desperate to learn his lessons. Desperate for a climax. When he set her down, she grabbed his forearm to keep from swaying. They were near equipment designed to develop the lower body. The closest was called a machine seated adductor, but she'd always thought of it as an offshoot of a table used for gynecological exams because it had an inclining back rest, a well-padded seat, and braced, equally cushioned pads designed to be positioned on the inside of the knees. The goal was to force the legs together, placing strain on the inner thigh. At the start of the exercise, a user's legs were spread far apart. "I don't want…" she started to protest when he indicated he wanted her to get into the machine. "Yes you do. You just haven't allowed yourself to admit it. And you don't want these." He took hold of her underpants' waistband, tugged, then released. The fabric snapped back in place. "A sexy woman like you should wear bikinis. Black." "After…after the accident, my mother bought me new undergarments. She said…she said I'd be dealing with doctors and therapists. That they didn't need to see me…you know." "Damn her." "Don't say that! They'd almost lost me. They were protecting me. " "I understand that, and if I was a parent, I'm sure I'd feel the same way. But these…" He indicated the panties. "Belong on your mother, not you." It stunned her that she hadn't realized that before. She was standing in front of him and naked from the waist up. He'd had his fingers inside her. Flushed, she tugged off the white garment. Next, she forced the twisted bra down over her hips and flung it after her panties. Naked, she stood in front of the most exciting man on earth.

Chapter Six

Not offering an explanation, Priest ran his hands down her hips, then around to the front of her thighs. Although she spread her legs because, well because she was turned on, he didn't take advantage of her invitation. Instead, he indicated the adduction machine. She opened her mouth but, really, there was nothing to be said. Feeling both graceful and awkward, she sat down and leaned back. She started to lift a leg over the knee pad, took an unsteady breath, then finished the task. Gathering the courage to lock the other leg in place took longer but finally, there she was. Cunt exposed and glistening in the bright light. Open to him. His perusal of her sex went on and on until her legs started to tremble. Do it! Just fuck me! He approached, brushing her naked thigh with his. She shuddered and turned away. "Don't," he told her. "Look at yourself. Celebrate what you are." She wanted to. Oh how she wanted to! His features softened as he placed his hands on the insides of her thighs, and he chuckled when the flesh under his fingers spasmed. The contraption she'd placed herself in gave him easy access to her hot pussy, but he obviously was in no hurry to take what she'd brazenly offered. Being naked while he remained safe beneath his clothing didn't bother her for the simple reason that she was too far gone to care. There! Finally! Finally! His fingers inching toward her cunt. Lifting her butt up off the seat and offering it to him. Feeling her swollen clit push past its hood as if inviting him in. As she panted and squirmed and leaked sex fluids, he took her outer pussy lips between thumb and forefinger and gently rubbed. At the same time, his breathing quickened and became deeper. She felt herself narrow down until it seemed as if only her sex organ existed. An orgasm growled just out of reach…volcanic lava seeking a way out. She loved it when he ran his fingers over the length of her outer pussy lips, but that was nothing compared to the sweet torture of feeling his short, smooth nails and fingertips on her unbelievably sensitive inner lips. She couldn't keep her tongue in her mouth and kept making sharp grunting sounds. Once, twice, three times he touched her clit, but although it hungrily reached for him, he didn't take full control. Alive in a way she'd never believed possible, she danced with his hands, rising up to meet his thrusts, falling away when her muscles gave out, then desperately pushing toward him again. Beyond giving a damn what she looked like, she let her head fall back and breathed noisily. Sometimes, not that she'd ever told anyone, she'd wondered what sex with a man who knew exactly

what she needed and could put his own needs on the back burner would feel like. Now she knew. Fan…fucking…tastic! Using both hands, he pushed aside her labial lips and exposed her clit. She squeezed her butt cheeks together and bucked toward him. He breathed on her pussy; his hot breath stripped the remaining strength from her. She freed her muscles from the tension she'd put them under, fell back and opened herself to him. He separated her cunt even more and leaned closer and blew on her. She sobbed. She felt…oh god, his tongue! His tongue tasting her clit! Flicking it on one side and then the other. "Priest, Priest, Priest," she chanted. She felt on fire, everything centered on his tongue, coming closer, ever closer to a raging climax. She reached out and buried her fingers in his thick hair. His tongue continued to probe, tickle, feed. The world could come to an end, and she wouldn't give a damn. Desperate to reach the pinnacle, she pulled his head into her muff and held him there, commanding him with her grip and ragged breathing to service her. To take her clit between his teeth and… Cuming! Red and scarlet flashed behind her closed eyes. Sucking in air, then not knowing what to do with it. All but levitating off the bench and pushing herself at him. Filling! Filling! Then, finally, everything rushing out of her. Panting, she fell back against the hard plastic. Her thighs, hips, and cunt felt as if they'd melted, yet continued to throb. She heard Priest chuckle and felt his tongue still inside her. He was lapping her juices. "I…I came," she whispered. Her lips were numb. "Yes, you did." Was that awe in his voice? "You sound surprised." She wasn't about to tell him how seldom that happened, never while lying spread-eagle on a contraption designed for thigh development. Although she wanted to remain wrapped in the sensations he'd gifted her with, when she could, she forced herself to concentrate on him. He was still leaning toward her, his hands braced on her knees, gazing at her gloriously exposed clitoris. "Do you like what you see?" she asked. He looked up, held her gaze. He'd called her desirable, beautiful. "Very much. You got what you needed, did you?" "My…yes." Talk about an understatement. "I'm happy I was able to give you that. I wasn't sure it would turn out like this, but I hoped…I knew it was what you needed." She stared at him. He was still dressed, dealing with his arousal by holding his swollen dick through fabric. "You've been uptight and repressed long enough," he told her. "If I've taken you out of your cage, I'm glad."

With every second, she felt more in control of her body. She just wasn't sure that's what she wanted. Also, she still had no desire to cover herself. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" he asked. "The business about a cage." His voice had a strangled quality, but then he was a red-blooded male in prime physical condition. He'd just taken her to climax; obviously, he hadn't been unaffected. More than that, she knew deep down in her bones that she was more than just a conquest to him. That he cared. "Priest, I…I appreciate what you've done to and for me. I never expected…" "I know you didn't," he whispered. "I…saying thank you isn't enough. I want to give you what you gave me." Reaching for herself, she spread her still unbelievably sensitive labial lips.

Chapter Seven

Saying nothing, Priest shucked off his shorts and briefs. She was still gaping at his cock and fantasizing about it plunging inside her when he pulled his shirt over his head. Unable to take her eyes off his swollen dick, she laughed. "Those briefs. There's almost nothing to them." He touched the head of his cock. "They do what they're designed to, most of the time." "And sometimes you need more than fabric." She again drew her lips apart and glanced down at herself, not surprised to see her cunt red and swollen. So much for being satisfied. She was getting hungry again but not for food. "Sometimes the only place for a cock is in a pussy." "That's an invitation?" If it isn't, I don't know what is. And who is the trash-talking broad saying these things? "More than an invitation, big boy." She dipped a finger deep inside herself and pulled it out to let him see how wet she was. He slid closer, his cock now only inches from her. She started trembling again. Smiling, he leaned forward and used his hands to aim his penis at her offered opening. Unable to close her mouth, she lifted her butt off the seat. "Not yet," he said. "First, the point of all this." I don't care! She arched her hips toward him. Her cunt brushed against the tip of his cock. "Priest!" "Not yet." When he backed away from her, she thought she'd scream, but then he placed his hands on her hip bones and brought his mouth down, down to her belly. Eyes closed, she felt his lips settle over her belly button, but they didn't stay there long. Like a restless thing, he slowly worked his way down her stomach. She thought he was going to eat her pussy again, but that was before the journey ended…at her scar. Kissing her there. Lips like butterfly wings. "Priest?" "A badge," he said with his mouth brushing the raised flesh. "A badge of survival. Something to celebrate." She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat, and when he kissed her again while running a hand over the small scars along her shin bone, she sobbed. "They're part of you," he told her. "Accept that." He shifted his weight, causing her to open her eyes and try to focus on him through her tears. Then she felt him slip into her as far as his ridge.

"Priest!" "In a minute. Believe me…I want it as much as you do. More than I knew I would." Although she wanted to continue to strain toward him, her muscles couldn't take it, and she sagged back. He slipped out of her. "No!" "What do you think of your body now?" He wanted to talk? What man wants to talk at a time like this? "I…I don't know." She tried to gather herself so she could rise up and suck his cock into her. "What do you think of your body?" "I love it! All right. I love it!" And the way you've made it feel. Your acceptance of it. "Then make that your battle cry." She stared at him. "What? How?" "You aren't a lifter, Brandy. But you have an incredible body." "You…you're just saying that because…" "The hell I am! Damn it, it's a killer body." "My scars." "Are part of you." She told herself he was just saying that so he could fuck her. But he'd kissed and touched the wounded and imperfect parts of her. He already knew she'd rock and roll with him for as long as they both held up. He'd worked with who knew how many young, nubile women. Well, she was young and maybe not nubile—whatever that was—but because of all her hard work, she was in great shape. And her imperfections hadn't repulsed him. "Brandy, you're a born body builder." "A what?" "Not just posing contests, but in front of the camera. In magazines. On calendars, posters." She felt dizzy. "No. I never…" He leaned toward her, then rammed his cock deep inside her. Gasping, she pulled herself up to meet him, dug her fingers into his hips and held him there. "You want that, don't you," he gasped. "Of course…I do." He pushed his cock even further inside her. Under her hands, his muscles felt like steel. "Not just sex," he said in that same low growl. "The chance to let the world see who you are. What you've become." Fighting to concentrate on what he was saying, she rolled her head from side to side. "What do you want?"

"To hear you say it. To believe in yourself." He, who could have any woman he wanted, had done things to her that hadn't been done before. Under his hands and lips and muscles, she'd felt her breasts come to life. Now the same was happening to her clitoris. But it went beyond that. She, who'd never in her wildest moments, imagined becoming some man's plaything, had done exactly that. And she loved every moment. Most of all she'd been grateful for his lips on her scar. "A body builder?" "Fitness contests. On the stage. Strutting your stuff." A rush of heat inflamed her. Some of it came from having Priest inside her…but not all. "Magazines?" "Swimsuit editions." Her? Adorning the front of a national magazine? Wearing next to nothing…almost like now. "I—want that," she whispered. "I know." His cock danced inside her like a hard-rock song. Her pussy muscles clamped down around him. "How did you know what I needed?" she managed. "You showed me. Brandy, I want to share that with you." She should say something, but they were having sex. Despite her earlier climax, she was hungry again, and insistent. In spite of her awkward position, she met his every thrust and used her well-honed pelvic muscles to lock him inside her. To hold him safe and alive and part of her. She felt each advance and retreat of his cock and her increasing excitement. He pumped, pumped again. Grunted. She grunted with him. Even when he slammed into her with such force that she was flattened against the seat, she kept her fingers locked over his hips. Ride me ride me ride me! Make us one. His thrusts came faster and faster. The thought flashed that he could kill her but what a way to go! She fed off his strength, his animal beauty even as her clit swelled and throbbed, and she gloried in her ability to match his intensity. To ride as she was being ridden. Fucking Priest was like lifting a weight she hadn't attempted before, making her muscles accomplish the impossible. Those muscles might strain and tremble and burn, but she'd keep after them until they did as she ordered. Until she hit the next level. The same happened now. Like a waterfall, her climax surged over her and took her. Instead of simply riding it to the end, she caught hold of some inner strength and fed off Priest's body, suckled from it, adding to her pleasure. Became one with him. She heard herself scream, then went even deeper into herself and came up with yet more strength. Clamping herself around Priest's cock, she swallowed it. She felt him fight her hot, moist prison, his size

and power winning the battle. Then in the next heartbeat, he shoved himself far inside her. A little more and his cock might come out her belly button. What did she care! She was cuming again. And again. Crying and laughing. Hearing the same sounds burst from him.

***** A long time later, as water from the shower cascaded over them, she rested her head against Priest's chest. She felt as weak and spent as she had the first time she'd tried to stand after her accident, but it didn't matter. Only being with him did. "If you're ready, we'll start tomorrow," he said raggedly as he wrapped his rock-arms around her. His flaccid cock twitched. "Tomorrow?" She indicated his penis. "I don't think it's going to take that long." "No, it isn't. But that's not what I'm talking about. You're promise, Brandy. Promise and potential. All you needed was pride in your body." "It isn't perfect." "No one's is. What makes you think it needs to be?" She tried to remember why she'd thought that. It had something to do with messages from her childhood…words to the effect that only the beautiful people displayed themselves. But Priest, who'd seen hundreds, maybe thousands of women, had just had sex with her. Had kissed and accepted her scars. And her. "How do I start?" she asked. "With body building I mean." He kissed the top of her head, the gesture so gentle and intimate that she nearly cried. "You're ready then. Good. You've already started. The muscle development is there, and you're no longer afraid to display yourself, are you?" After what he'd done to her, hardly. "How did you know?" she asked. "About my hang-ups?" After a moment he said, "I've been there. Not the hang-ups maybe but the scars." "Scars? You?" "Yes," he whispered. She stared at him, then slowly, possessively, ran her gaze over his incredible body. The water gave him a sheen that only accented his perfection and spoke of vulnerability at the same time. Finally though, she saw them. With a sigh, she crouched in front of him and pressed her mouth against his knees…his scar-crossed knees.

"What happened?" she asked. He placed his hand on the top of her head, reminding her of his earlier kiss there. "Football collisions," he whispered roughly. "Too many of them." His words, although simple, sounded heavy, as if they'd been torn from him and placed naked before her. "That's why you're no longer playing?" she asked. "Because you had surgery?" "Surgeries." He drew out the word as if bent under the weight of it. Something shifted inside her, opened her and brought her closer to him than she'd ever dreamed possible. He'd just given her a huge chunk of himself. Exposed himself in much the same way she'd been exposed to him tonight. He didn't need to tell her how few people knew the depths of what he'd been through. "Getting over the disappointment was hard, was it? More than hard." She traced her fingertips over the scars. "You had so many dreams wrapped up in football." "Yes" How wonderfully strong you are! A true survivor. "Making a living as a professional football player had been your goal, your obsession for years. And when that was taken from you…" "I was lost." Her eyes burned; she didn't try to blink away her tears. "But eventually, because you aren't a quitter, you turned in another direction and gave your life new meaning." "Yes." Yes. A simple word with everything behind it. "I'm trying to comprehend everything you went through," she told him. "Having what you were passionate about shattered and having to reinvent yourself, find the strength to face your future." She kissed his knees again. Her throat threatened to close down. "That's why you knew what I was going through, isn' it." "Yes." "Yes? Is that all you have to say?" He took a deep breath. "No. I want you to be able to do what I did…welcome the future." She wanted to know everything about what he'd endured, but that, like the details of how she'd begin her new career, could wait. Right now she was more interested in turning his half erection into the real thing. Getting close to him meant everything to her; she needed no guidelines for how she was going to accomplish that, and believed he'd understand. Want the same thing. She gently caressed his knees, then brought her fingers to his cock. Water sluiced around them, insulating them from everything else. "You're an incredible man," she told him with her mouth near his penis. "Having one career ripped from you but embracing another. Taking…taking someone like me and teaching me to accept what I am." "You're not just someone. You're important to me. I didn't know that would happen but…and more

than accept, Brandy." He turned off the water. "Embrace. Celebrate." "I matter?" "Very much." Very. She stood slowly, sliding her wet body against his. She could hardly wait to begin the journey he'd revealed to her, and yet tonight promised to be the ride of a lifetime. And, because of what they had in common, there'd be many more nights and days. "I feel the same way about you," she whispered. After that, their bodies did the speaking.

Epilogue Midnight again. One difference between the first night she'd spent in the gym with Priest and now was that she was already there when he walked in. Meeting each other here was hardly new. In fact these sex/workout/sharing combinations had become the most important part of her life and, she suspected, his too. After turning off the light, she'd seated herself in the Nautilus Flyes machine which held her in a reclining position, her arms up and back as far as possible so she could hook her forearms behind the resistance pads. Doing the exercise required her to force her arms forward while keeping her upper arms parallel to the ground, but she simply waited for Priest to enter the room. She was naked. He flipped the switch, and she blinked at the sudden light. It took him a moment to spot her, and when he did, he strode toward her, his smile half approving, half puzzled. He stood so their knees touched, then reached out and brushed his palm over her erect nipples. "Tell me, Priest," she said. "Do you still think my breasts are too big?" He shook his head. "You'll never cease to surprise me." "Do you mean that after three months of seeing each other every day—" "Night," he corrected. "All right. Night. Coming here so you can help me get my body in shape." "That's not all we do." He came even closer and bracketed her legs between his. "I'm not complaining." Although she wanted to yank off his muscle shirt, she kept her arms behind the contraption. "And I haven't heard any complaints from you. But you haven't answered my question." She started to push the pads forward, arching her back a little in the process. "Do you still think my breasts are too big?" Laughing, he covered them with his hands, pushing them against her ribcage even as she brought her arms closer together. "Frankly, they feel just right." "You should know. You've felt them enough." "Guilty as charged." He waited until she'd completed the contraction element of the exercise. When her arms were again back and apart, he settled himself on her hips and bent forward, taking a nipple between his teeth. Quick as that, her pussy felt as if a flame had been applied to it. In another few seconds, talking would be all but impossible. "I'm going to be exposing my breasts to more than just you before long," she rasped. He spoke with her nub in his mouth. "You are?"

"Yes." He licked her nipple and then released it. "Spit it out, my dear. We have a long night ahead of us." I can hardly wait for it to begin. "They called today. They want me." "For the fitness layout?" "Yes." She started to laugh. "I know, I know. You said the magazine was crazy not to want me, but…it was the pictures you took of me. I know that made the difference." "I didn't send them every shot." Despite the self-confidence she'd gained since she and Priest started working out together…since they'd started having sex…she blushed. "I should hope not. Some of them were— " "Private. Do you know what you'll be wearing?" "Not much." "Hm." He abruptly stood up, making her wonder if, despite what he'd said about her having a body any woman would want to flaunt, he didn't want other men seeing what he was so intimately familiar with. Before she could ask, he pulled her arms from behind the pads. He released her right wrist but kept his hand around the left and captured her mouth in a kiss that ended with his tongue all but tickling her tonsils. "I have one thing I want you to wear, always," he said when, finally, they came up for air. She could only stare at him as he reached into his shorts' pocket and pulled out a diamond solitaire. Her vision blurred. She felt him slip it on her ring finger. "Will you?" he whispered. "Marry me?" "Marry? You? Me?" "Yes." "Oh yes! Yes. I'll…" She indicated the sparkling stone although in truth tears still clouded her vision. "I'll never take it off." "Then, like now, it'll be the only thing you have on." Shouldn't they be saying more, making plans, saying I love you? Maybe. Later. Now, however, she wanted sex. Wanted to give him the same. "You're overdressed," she told him. "Hm. What are you going to do about it?" "Well, for starters…" She fastened her fingers over his shorts' waistband and pulled them down over his hips. He stepped out of them. "Yep," he said. "That'll do…for starters."