Even the humps and crevices that defined his eight pack were clear against the clean, white cotton.
Even before he glanced their way, he heard the sound of Roger and Larry arguing from behind the front desk. It was always the same thing, beginning of each month.
They battled over who was behind on their club fees. Who was going to get the job of trying to collect on those unpaid markers from the other set of books that was the source of most of their arguments.
Booze and betting were more a part of his upbringing than it should have been, but Cameron quickly learned how to dodge and duck when either the Jim Beam had run dry, or the odds had turned against the bet.
Neither man gave Cameron an acknowledgment as he made his way out the steamed glass of the front door.
From behind, Asher’s voice yelled.
“Be back by 5:30. Don’t take a detour to New York, or Florida or where ever this time.”
“Yeah.” Cameron sauntered out into the wind, flipping up his hood.
The damn wind gave him a big ‘ol fuck you back as it whipped his hood immediately back off his nearly bald head.
His gut was still wrapped tight, a pounding in his ears from the blood that raged hot and powerful through his veins.
Staying away for so long, every day he woke up immersed in thoughts of her face, the move of her body. Every night, as he stared at the ceiling, he imaged her warmth, the heat from her curves pressed against him, the sweet smell of her breath in his ear.
The only way he would ever leave here again was with her. If it took the rest of his life, he was going to win this fight. Six months felt more like a life sentence in a damn Turkish prison. He’d left to be sure, to see if distance would soften the hold she had on him.
Would time and space allow him to break free of whatever it was that bound her to him like a sickness? No. Not only did it not work, it only created an even deeper, primal need to bring her to him. He felt like a wolf, hunting for the mate nature intended.
Sure, he used plenty of other diversions. Women threw themselves at him without a word out of his mouth. He fucked into them like a tiger, always turning their faces away before he could find the will to finish, pumping hard and violent until he pressed his hand over their mouth and let go. They were a masturbation tool. He felt nothing for them except the biological release of sexual tension they provided.
The wind stung as it whipped up dirt and god knew what else from the streets around the gym. Cameron could feel his body tightening, his muscles twitching.
He needed that release, he couldn’t remember ever going this long without. But that day in the bathroom of his apartment in Colorado after he threw the last Trixie out the door, he swore she would be the only one.
No matter how long it took, there would be no one else in his bed until he claimed the ultimate prize.
He felt that thumping in his groin, but it was matched in size and intensity by his other primal need to conquer, to punish. When both of those engines were firing, there was only one way he knew to provide him with some modicum of relief.
His fingers pulled out the keys and he dumped himself into the seat of his beloved, restored Camaro. The eight cylinders roared then settled into a rumbling hum. He made his way through the nearly empty streets to a place where he could at least unleash part of the beast that had him wound far too tight for anyone’s safety.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where we at?” Larry threw back a handful of peanuts, some of them actually going inside his mouth. The rest scattered on the office floor.
Sure, I’d be happy to clean that up for you. No problem. What am I, the scullery maid too?
“Here, see for yourself.” Victoria hated the beginning of each month.
“What the fuck? This can’t be right. Where the fuck is all the money?” The single sheet of legal sized paper shook slightly in Larry’s hand. It was before noon, and he hadn’t yet
Even before he glanced their way, he heard the sound of Roger and Larry arguing from behind the front desk. It was always the same thing, beginning of each month.
They battled over who was behind on their club fees. Who was going to get the job of trying to collect on those unpaid markers from the other set of books that was the source of most of their arguments.
Booze and betting were more a part of his upbringing than it should have been, but Cameron quickly learned how to dodge and duck when either the Jim Beam had run dry, or the odds had turned against the bet.
Neither man gave Cameron an acknowledgment as he made his way out the steamed glass of the front door.
From behind, Asher’s voice yelled.
“Be back by 5:30. Don’t take a detour to New York, or Florida or where ever this time.”
“Yeah.” Cameron sauntered out into the wind, flipping up his hood.
The damn wind gave him a big ‘ol fuck you back as it whipped his hood immediately back off his nearly bald head.
His gut was still wrapped tight, a pounding in his ears from the blood that raged hot and powerful through his veins.
Staying away for so long, every day he woke up immersed in thoughts of her face, the move of her body. Every night, as he stared at the ceiling, he imaged her warmth, the heat from her curves pressed against him, the sweet smell of her breath in his ear.
The only way he would ever leave here again was with her. If it took the rest of his life, he was going to win this fight. Six months felt more like a life sentence in a damn Turkish prison. He’d left to be sure, to see if distance would soften the hold she had on him.
Would time and space allow him to break free of whatever it was that bound her to him like a sickness? No. Not only did it not work, it only created an even deeper, primal need to bring her to him. He felt like a wolf, hunting for the mate nature intended.
Sure, he used plenty of other diversions. Women threw themselves at him without a word out of his mouth. He fucked into them like a tiger, always turning their faces away before he could find the will to finish, pumping hard and violent until he pressed his hand over their mouth and let go. They were a masturbation tool. He felt nothing for them except the biological release of sexual tension they provided.
The wind stung as it whipped up dirt and god knew what else from the streets around the gym. Cameron could feel his body tightening, his muscles twitching.
He needed that release, he couldn’t remember ever going this long without. But that day in the bathroom of his apartment in Colorado after he threw the last Trixie out the door, he swore she would be the only one.
No matter how long it took, there would be no one else in his bed until he claimed the ultimate prize.
He felt that thumping in his groin, but it was matched in size and intensity by his other primal need to conquer, to punish. When both of those engines were firing, there was only one way he knew to provide him with some modicum of relief.
His fingers pulled out the keys and he dumped himself into the seat of his beloved, restored Camaro. The eight cylinders roared then settled into a rumbling hum. He made his way through the nearly empty streets to a place where he could at least unleash part of the beast that had him wound far too tight for anyone’s safety.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where we at?” Larry threw back a handful of peanuts, some of them actually going inside his mouth. The rest scattered on the office floor.
Sure, I’d be happy to clean that up for you. No problem. What am I, the scullery maid too?
“Here, see for yourself.” Victoria hated the beginning of each month.
“What the fuck? This can’t be right. Where the fuck is all the money?” The single sheet of legal sized paper shook slightly in Larry’s hand. It was before noon, and he hadn’t yet
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