Cross My Heart

All characters are consenting, 18+ adults.

*****

Prologue: "Pretty Little Liar"

I cry out in pain - the high-pitched wail of a wounded animal echoing against the expansive gym walls. I sprained my goddamned ankle again. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" I chide myself. Shit, here he comes. And, like a fabled, fairy-tale prince - swooping down to rescue the ever-present 'damsel in distress' - you come to my aide, and I avert my gaze so you can't read the humiliation written across my face.

Those fucking eyes, man - they get me every time.

...

Chapter 1: "Little Rich Girl"

I'd arrived late again, not because of any particular reason, but because of who I am as a person, and I anxiously shuffled my gym bag against the wall before joining the class. I was hoping for some more glorified yoga (because my God - look at you! Who wouldn't want to watch that glorious body bend and stretch, while imagining them-selves beneath you?!), but you seemed ready to bust our proverbial balls today, and the scathing look of disappointment you flashed my way was a blow to my ego.

I was not a unique and beautiful snow-flake; I was the all-singing, all-dancing, crap of the world - some yuppy little white girl with her fresh little outfit, hopping on the latest exercise bandwagon in the spirit of getting more followers on Instagram. Or so one would think. The only, subtle hint that there was something more to the story was a shock of "pleasure-me" pink hair that I always kept up in a messy bun. How typical.

But secretly, I lived for Thursday nights; I lived for the public humiliation of my body, my weekly testing of my own physical limitations, the surpassing of many milestones that I never thought were even possible for me to achieve. I lived to prove to everyone, to you (my cross-fit instructor), and to myself, that I could do this. That I would make us proud.

Being late, however, does not make you proud of me, but it does get me negative attention (which is better is better than no attention at all). I blushed and gazed apologetically in your direction - my mercurial, olive-green eyes meeting your stoic pools of ice. My guilt and shame melted away momentarily - you saw me. And I am in love all over again. I toed the line, sighing dreamily as my mind wandered in and out of various exercises and daydreams, imagining you were my lover in many different ways, until eventually I completely, mentally checked out. Then I lost my balance.

Crunch.

...

Chapter 2: "Great Cry and Little Wool"

A hush falls across the room as you gingerly grasp my foot. "Are you okay?" you question me softly. I nod yes, but the white-hot tears streaming down my face say otherwise. You poke and prod my ankle tenderly, asking which parts hurt, and all I can do is either shake my head or nod - it all hurts! My ego, my pride; literally everything. I'm such an idiot! You calmly dismiss the rest of the class early for the day, then extend your arm to me to help me stand up on my good leg, and propel me towards your office. I am grateful, and mortified.

As I hobble along beside you, I am intensely aware of our bodies' close proximity. Your scent is intoxicating - a heady mix of sweat and aftershave - and I find myself go weak it the knees for reasons other than my injury. You must have noticed, too, because you stop momentarily.

"Hey, hold on," your voice is calm and strong; "Let's take a break." I shake my head no, determined not to show any impotence on my part, and try to limp forward without you. Almost there! I can hear you chuckling behind me, before you slide your hand around my waist. Fuuuuck!! "Easy, killer. Let me help you." And you throw my arm around your shoulder to pull my weight against your stolid body. When our hands meet, I swear there's electricity in the air. My heart races. I can't breathe. I think I'm going to pass out.

You help me trudge the last few feet through the open doorway, and ease me down onto the couch in your office. I resist the urge to pull you down on top of me (why can't I stop thinking about doing terrible things to you?) Quit it, brain!! I can't prevent the thoughts of you from coming unbidden into my consciousness, but I CAN keep my mouth shut, and I bite my lip as if to seal the deal.

As you back away from me, you give me a funny look - one that I can't interpret right away - and tell me, "Stay here." The quiet, commanding tone of your voice sends chills down my spine, and I gulp instinctively. What the hell is going on with me today?

...

Chapter 3: "A Little Rough Around the Edges"

Having been well-versed in how to take care of sports-related injuries over the years, I already have my feet propped up on the couch cushion by the time you return. You smile and grin a little as you amble over to where I'm comfortably resting, and set the first aid kit on the end table. I'm surprised you're doing all of this for me, but I'm not complaining. As you open up the little jar of tiger balm and begin smoothing a small amount of the ointment along your palms, I return your grin. Are you serious right now?

You nudge my uninjured ankle away, indicating that I should move my leg, then sit facing me on the sofa. My voice trapped in my lungs I simply comply, and tremble a little as you grasp my injured ankle, rubbing the heavily-scented salve onto my tender spots. This is really happening! I panic a little, chewing on my bottom lip (an old nervous habit) as I grip the back of the couch. I'd imagined those hands running along my body a thousand times before, but this isn't quite what I had invisioned.

When you've finished your masterful manipulation of my flesh, you ask if it feels good. Trying not to read into anything, I simply nod, feeling your eyes linger long on my body. He's just helping fix your foot, you fool! My mind is in turmoil as you reach for an ace bandage, and expertly wrap my ankle.

"There, how's that?" you ask when you've finished, gazing intently at me.

"It's great, thanks!" I mumble, blushing still, as I make a motion to leave.

"Hold on," you frown for a moment, then lean in to fuss with the dressing some more. It was nice and snug, but then again, so was your grip. I could feel the pressure against my foot as you smooth out all the creases, and then, incredibly, against my calf as you begin kneading my supple skin. Wait, what? You stare more intently at me now, and suddenly, I feel very vulnerable. "You don't have to go just yet," you say in a half-pleading, half-demanding tone. And this time, I do get your meaning.

...

Chapter 4: "Little Man in the Boat"

I blush and stammer; I dodn't know how I should react, or what I am supposed to say. I swallow hard, trying to catch my breath as I stretch my leg out long for you. Deftly your hands maneuver into uncharted waters, massaging up my muscular thigh, danger-ously close to where I long to be touched. As if reading my thoughts, you lick your lips subtly - your hands continuing their sojourn upwards along my undulating curves. A soft moan escaps my lips as I arch my back, my ankle long forgotten. I want this; I need this. I need you.

Taking cue from my body, you lean forward over me, and I gasp in spite of myself as you flash me a warm smile, cupping my crimson cheek in your rugged palm. I am putty in your hands.

Your lips grace mine with a softness that astounds me, and I wraps my arms around your shoulders, drawing you in close - our bodies flushed and sweat-slick from our previous exertion. God you're so fucking hot. I close my eyes languidly, basking in your strong embrace as you kiss me deeply; our tongues press against each other - locked in their own, private dance.

I moan loudly in spite of myself, which only serves to spur you on, and you slide your hand down over my tank top, skirting under my shorts against my bare mound, rubbing softly, but urgently. I turn my face away and gasp audibly as your middle finger finds my warm, wet slit - already dripping with anticipation. A low, guttural murmur of appreciation rises from your throat, and I buck up my hips against your palm urging you on. Fuck it.

You slide your fingers purposefully up and down my lower lips, then finding my already engorged clit, begin tracing little circles around it, making my legs tremble with unrestrained desire. Slowly inching your fingertips to my entrance, you guide first one, then another inside my warm, wet folds.

My breath catches in my throat as I watch you savoring my dampness. God you feel so good. You crawl back up my body, fingers thrusting deeper and deeper as you gaze intently into my lust-filled eyes. There's a hunger there I can't deny; a whispered, "Please!" passes my lips imploringly.

And you press on, your mouth roving down my stomach past my belly button, leaving little kisses along the way. Without hesitation, you whisk away my shorts and panties in one fell swoop, and press your tongue against my lower lips - eating away at my core. I could feel the sudden warmth of your tounge deep within my folds, following from back to front, and then the tip of your tounge swirls over my tight clit, tugging slightly. My body writhes in ecstasy.

Removing your fingers, your tongue plunges into my entrance, exploring my inner depths as you rub fiercely my little nub, and I can't hold back any longer - you make me cum so fast and so hard, calling your name out loud. Oh, Sean - what have you done to me?

...

Chapter 5: "Little Fish in a Big Pond"

Wave after wave of indescribable pleasure roll over me, and the aftershocks cause my body to shudder under yours. "Thank you," I whisper, and I am truly grateful - though quite surprised, and a bit bewildered.

It was pretty obvious from the beginning how I felt about you, or so I figured - I was always fawning over you with my doe-eyed stare, and stumbling over my words whenever you tried to carry on a decent conversation with me after class. I never really thought you particularly fancied me though, yet here we are. You are my personal Grecian God, who has sent my walls all tumbling down, literally and figuratively. I must return the favor.

When eventually I regain control of my body, I sit up and slip my fingers under the hem of your t-shirt and tug it up over your toned torso. I am not disappointed; in fact, I couldn't have imagined a more perfect body. I'm going to enjoy this. I want to touch you.

You let out an audible sigh of relief as I cast the rumpled garment aside. Leaning into you, I nuzzle against your solid frame - burying my face into your chest. I can feel your heartbeat.

You languidly open your eyes - lips parted in a half-exasperated, half-pleasurable smile, and murmur, "Well hello there!" My body wanders - delicate digits beginning their diligent exploration of your unchartered skin. Fuck, I want you. Slowly my eyes rise up to match yours, and we are met with mirrored desires: a thirst mere water will not quench.

And as if by their own intervention, my hands find their way to your shoulders, and I inch my body close to yours. Closing my eyes, I lean in - achingly beginning to traverse the chasm between our lips - when I feel yours press against mine. My heart threatens to explode in my chest.

Making small movements, we savor each other's exquisite contours. I flick my tongue out teasingly along your lower lip, causing you to catch your breath as I taste myself on your mouth. Pressing my tongue more firmly now, I part your lips - moaning softly into our kiss.

You return my passion zealously and our hands take on a mind of their own - squeezing, groping; grasping at every bit of exposed flesh, and trying to expose still more. I feel your rough fingerprints as you slide your hand up my tank top - cupping my breast over my sports bra as your other hand rests on the small of my back, pulling me in so tight I can feel how hard you are already, as your growing bulge presses up against my bare sex. God you turn me on so bad.

I trail my fingertips down your stomach to your waistband, slipping my hand inside as I grasp your thick, hard cock under your boxers. Fuck. I desperately want you inside me. Now.

Breaking our kiss, I begin to stroke your lengthy shaft - slowly but firmly - pressing my smooth palm against you as I leave a trail of hungry little kisses all along your collar-bone. "I want you," I whisper, as I gaze deliriously into your intense, intrepid eyes.

That's all it took, because before I am even aware of what's going on, you yank my tank-top off, and fumble with my bra (thank God I wore the one with the zipper today!) You fling that, too, across the room. Hungrily lunging at my body, you move over me like a wild animal capturing his prey, and I am wanting to be devoured.

With a smooth bit of maneuvering, I help you slide your bottoms off (undershorts and all), and we are both completely undressed, and come undone in each other's arms. You want this as much as I do, I can tell, and the thought only piques my desire that much more. I am hopelesly smitten now, and implore you to ravish me like you mean it.

...

Chapter 6: "A Little Rough and Ready"

You move over me like fog over a valley - soft, thick, obscuring - and small shivers shoot up my spine. Feeling your bare skin against mine is like a dream come true, and I am lost in rapture. Your strong hands firmly grasp my thighs, and you lean down one last time, parting my legs as you flick your tongue across my swollen lower lips.

I reach down and grasp your hair roughly, goading you to make your way back up my body. I want you here. But you had never intended on lingering long - the flat of your tongue probing my moist entrance - because as soon as I tug on your hair, you look up at me, and flash me a wicked grin. You move to plank over me - your long, hard shaft in hand as you guide your tip against my slit. You tease. You begin rubbing yourself up and down my delicious folds, eliciting little squeals and shudders from my body as you occasionally bump against my clit.

My hands wander down your sculptural shoulders, tracing the details of your many forearm tattoos (I absent-mindedly wonder what they mean), and gasp suddenly as I feel you slide the tip of your cock inside me agonizingly slowly, then out again, and back in.

"Oh God!" I cry out, my face twisted in pure pleasure as I wrap my muscular thighs around your back, trying to take more of you in. I take my nails up and down your back, goading you on. Your iceberg eyes are shooting scathing blows deep into my soul, and I begin to see what lies beneath. I have woken up the dragon, and I am your treasure - ready for the taking.

You push into me again, your girthy member spreading my inner walls and I can feel every inch of you as you press in further still - your eyes never leaving mine as you savor every bit of my satisfaction. Curling your body upwards, your head finds my 'spot', and I wail like a woman possessed.

With a self-satisfied grin on your face, you pull back out, then plunge smoothly into my dripping, waiting cunt - this time even deeper - eliciting an even louder cry from me than before. You're gonna make me come so fast! I'm almost embarrassed at how easy this has become.

"Shh," you soothe me, and tuck a lock of my unruly pink hair behind my ear; "Relax." Your body rocks over me now - slow, steady, deep - and I try to let go. All of the hang-ups, all of the doubts - now water under the bridge.

You quicken your pace, and I am lost in the sensation of your body crashing into mine, over and over again. I feel you begin to tense up as you fuck me with renewed zeal, and I grasp on to your shoulders for dear life. I can tell you're about to lose it, and a surprising realization comes to me - I want you to come inside.

"Oh come for me, baby! Pleeeease!!" I cry out in the throes of passion, and clamp my inner walls down on your throbbing cock - sending us to the precipice of our mutual pleasure.

"Oh Gwen," you murmur reverently, unable to hold back any longer, and the sound of my name passing your lips throws me over the edge as well. We come together in a tangle of primal groans - me clenching around you as you unload your seed so deep inside of me - filling me up whole. You gasp and pant as the shock registers now on your face - a few more feral thrusts, and me shuddering beneath you as our cum co-mingles inside of me, and we are spent.

"Oh God, Sean, I think I'm falling for you," I blurt out unexpectedly, to which you utter in reply, "I'm beginning to feel the same way." You collapse beside of me - still connected inside. I could live here in this moment forever.

...

Chapter 7: "Dirty Little Secret"

"You know I'm married, right?" you assert, as we begin the arduous task of gathering up our displaced clothing. I had already suspected as much, seeing as you occasionally sported a silicone wedding ring to class, but hearing you say it aloud definitely sobered up the mood.

"I know," I replied, suddenly embarrassed at my behavior. What had I been thinking?! But then again, that was probably the problem - I hadn't been thinking! Typical Gwen just does what she wants, regardless of the consequences. I wince as I hobble over to grab my panties - I had totally forgotten about my fucking ankle!

"Hey, it's okay," you remark, and I'm not sure whether you're referring to my injury, or our licentious act(s), but you seem so sure of yourself, so too, am I. You offer to help me regain my balance, and you seem almost saddened at the prospect of this being over - even if it was just for now.

We chit-chat idly; and, as it turns out, we have a lot of common interests. But the persistent, dull ache reminds me of how we got to this point, because now I can barely put any weight on my foot. "We should probably go to the hospital and get you checked out," you casually mention, but I refuse. I'm positive nothings broken (physically, anyway), and I just want to go home.

Grudgingly, I agree to leave my car at your gym, and to let you drive me back to my apartment instead. The trip there is peppered with awkward silence, and I am lost in my thoughts. What did this even mean? I wonder, until you reach across the seat to put your warm hand upon my bare thigh. Fuck. This is going to be more challenging than I thought.

Once we've arrived, I thank you and give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, expecting the whole ordeal to be over now. At least it was worth it, I think with a wry smile plastered across my face. I'm too embarrassed by now to look you in the eye, unsure of what I would even see reflected there. I'm such a fool...

"At least let me help you up the stairs" you interrupt my thoughts, and I nod obligingly - knowing full well you'd have probably had to anyway.

My hands are trembling as I try to finagle my key into the lock, and again, as the door shuts behind me - nay, us - and we stand there sullenly in my entryway. "Can I get you some ice?" you inquire, and I am helpless to protest.

All I want to do is go to sleep, and without a second thought, I hobble down the hall towards my bedroom. I unceremoniously sling my gear bag into the corner, and then slump into my luxuriously disheveled bed. Clean, unfolded laundry smatters the floor, but I'm too tired to give enough fucks to clean up for you, and I crawl up the queen-sized mattress - lying in tremulous wait of your return.

"Nice mirror!" My eyes fly open in a daze. Had I fallen asleep already?! My cheeks turn an exquisite shade of crimson as I realize you're talking about the one next to my bed. I'd tried to be subtle with its placement, but somehow every lover I've ever had has noticed that damn thing right away.

I shrug and grin, mumbling, "I'm allowed to keep a few surprises for myself, aren't I?" You swallow hard, and I know you're imagining me in all sorts of different ways right now. The thought does not displease me. "Weren't you going to bring me some ice?" I ask boldly. You nod and hold out the ziplock-full, hesitantly. What are you waiting for? I wonder.