K. Bromberg - Bend

It didn’t stop me from staring at her. I tilted my head to the side, forehead scrunched as I tried to figure out what the hell had just happened—and why my cock was so hard. It was just a look, but at the same time, it felt like so much more. A connection, and not that love-at-first-sight bullshit.

Base level between a man and a woman—a need that populated the earth.

Our strange interaction caused images of fucking her on the altar to course through my mind. Was she as untouched as her innocent face suggested? She looked soft, inviting, and corruptible. How would her full hips feel beneath my hands as I thrust my cock into her?

I turned back to the front and began to ask for forgiveness for the sinful things I was thinking about doing to her. My dick, however, continued to dream. A small groan slipped from my lips, and her head snapped up. I cupped my cock through my jeans, adjusting it so it didn’t press so hard against the seam. It twitched against my palm as she squirmed in her seat.

Fuck.

I sat still, staring at her profile. Her lips parted, skin pink, and she moved her ass again. I blew out a breath to calm myself. It was ridiculous. I was just horny because I hadn’t had sex since Monica gave me a break-up fuck three months prior.

After a few minutes, she stood and headed to the confessional. I couldn’t help but turn to look at her delectable ass as she walked. Soft curves called to me, begging me to touch them, own them.

As soon as she stepped out of sight, I ran down the steps to the restroom and locked myself in. I splashed some water on my face, staring at the image in front of me. Someone else stared back. My brown eyes were almost black, lids heavy with a force of lust I’d never experienced.

My teeth clenched, muscles coiled tight as my hips rocked, searching for her. I grabbed hold of the sink, my breath heavy and hard.

What is wrong with me?

It was overpowering. An internal battle for control waged as consuming need pumped through my veins. I popped open my jeans and pulled out my cock. It didn’t matter that I stood in the bathroom of a church—I had to get off before I went insane.

I shuddered as I wrapped my hand around my hard dick, the force almost sending me to the ground. It throbbed, overly sensitive, and I had a hard time keeping my focus on the task with each intense stroke. My imagination went wild with thoughts of touching her, of pulling her out of the confessional and bending her over a pew.

I wanted her with a primal intensity that consumed me. Fuck her raw. Make her need me as much as I was suddenly dying for her. I wanted to hear her screams bouncing off the stone walls, mark her with my come. Taint her innocence, then fuck her all over again.

A roar ripped through me, every muscle strained to the limit. My balls were tight, and with a few hard tugs, I exploded all over the mirror and sink. I couldn’t stop coming, my body jerking hard with each spurt.

My legs gave out, and I sprawled out onto the floor, trying to breathe again. Come continued to drip out of my dick.

Once again, I found myself staring at a ceiling, wondering what the fuck happened.

A few hours later, I was in the gym, working out one of my clients and trying not to think of what happened earlier.

“Come on, Teri.” I held the sparring mitts up. “One, two, one, elbow, knee, roundhouse.”

She took a moment to catch her breath, then swung forward. The combination was repetitious, ten each side, her hits hitting in tandem with the blood pulsing through me.

My mind wandered back to this morning. I’d stayed on the bathroom floor of the church for a few minutes before sneaking out and back home. Mom was asleep, and I rushed upstairs, still confused as to what came over me. The feeling followed me home, and I busted another nut before heading to work.

I pushed my client more than normal, taking my confusion out on her with a wicked tough session. She wasn’t the most coordinated, but she enjoyed the boxing.

“Good workout.” I gave her a high five after pulling the gloves off her.

“You were mean today!” She lightly punched my shoulder and laughed.

I shrugged and smirked. “No pain, no gain.”

A little while later, I stopped in the break room for a drink, my last client gone for the day, and took a moment to decide if I wanted to work out on my own. Maybe that would calm my ass down. I scanned the room, head tilted back as I drank, and my eyes landed on a poster showcasing a woman’s before and after fitness program pictures. She had brown hair similar to the girl I’d seen, and soft curves. My dick twitched.

“Dude, you need to stop moping. You’re scaring the girls away with your brooding.” Dex reached into the fridge, pulling out a water before coming to stand by me and elbowing me in the arm.

“Sorry, man, it’s just…” I blew out a sigh. My eye caught a flyer for a boxing class on Thursday nights, one I knew nothing about, and it wasn’t me teaching it. “Fucking bitch!” I slammed my hand into the corkboard, knocking it off the wall and onto the floor.

Dex stepped back. “Yo, you need to cool it.”

“Did you know about this?”

“About what?”

I picked up the flyer and shoved it at him. His eyes widened. “Holy shit! She’s lost her fucking mind. I bet it’s that shithead Shone. I saw them getting cozy the other day.” He shook his head. “Sorry.”

I began pacing the wall. “I don’t fucking care if that slut is banging that prissy asshole. I’m the resident boxing trainer. I teach all the classes.”

“Who’s the prissy one?” Monica called from the doorway.

I froze and slowly spun toward her. My stomach turned, and I questioned why I’d ever been attracted to her—fake blonde hair, fake nails, fake tan, overdone makeup, and a fake personality. Even her once-womanly body was gone, replaced with too many muscles. No softness in her at all. The transformation had occurred over the last two years. She no longer resembled the girl of six years prior.

“I see there’s a new class.” My jaw clenched. It wasn’t the first time in recent weeks she’d done something that set me off.

One of her drawn-on brows quirked up. “Yes, there is.”

“And some shithole who’s been here for less than six months is teaching it?”

“New blood.”

“New blood?” I stepped forward, looming over her. “I fucking started the program. I teach every class.”

“And now there’s someone to take some of the stress off you, especially with your mom’s condition.”

My eyes grew wide. “Don’t you fucking bring her up. This is about you being a raging bitch, for bitch’s sake. Which I don’t get, because you were the one who cheated on me and flaunted that shit in my face.”

She put her hand on my chest and ran it across my shoulder. I wanted to throw up.

“Ooh, I like this side of you, Jared. Are you jealous I’m sucking someone else’s cock now?”

“Go fuck yourself.” I snarled and pushed past her, heading to the locker room to get my crap. I needed to get the fuck out of what once had been my second home but now felt like my prison.

I slammed my fist against the metal door of my locker, cursing, not even noticing that Dex followed me.

“What the fuck is up with you?” He sat down on the bench behind me. “We’ve been friends for years, but I’ve never seen you blow up like that. I mean, I know you’re pissed at her, and she’s doing everything she can to push you out of here and sign over your part of the business, but still.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I really fucking don’t.”

“I think you do, and it’s not about her or your mom, so spill.”