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“You’re doing it wrong.” His voice is slick like oil as it spreads through the air and into your ears, coating you in its deliciously dark warmth as he approaches you from behind.
“Oh really?” You keep your palms pressed against the wall as that warmth intensifies, stretching the muscles in your calf as you feel the heat from his breath reach the back of your neck. “How so?”
“You’ve been groaning every time you stand up from your chair.” The weight of the mat beneath your feet shifts and bends with each step he takes toward you until he stops just a few inches short, inhaling a little longer than normal before speaking again. “That stretch isn’t going to help your hamstrings any.”
“No?” You keep your back to him, switching legs before continuing your usual stretches to ease your well-earned muscle pain. “Maybe my calves hurt, did you ever think about that?”
“I can help with those, too.” That dark, inky tambre oozes itself around your body, dripping down your torso and into your core as his words blow a few strands of hair away from your shoulder.
It’s only a matter of seconds now before he touches you, before that black abyss takes you under completely; rendering you helpless against his charm that you’ve been trying to ignore these past few weeks. Those innocent looks he stole from you across the room had quickly morphed into longing gazes that kept you up at night, spurning a fire inside that could only be stoked by one thing. You wonder if being submerged in this desire with him is something that could put this flame out for good; or if succumbing to your primal urges would only ignite this chemical reaction into a combustion impossible to recover from.
“By mansplaining my own stretches to me?” You bring yourself out of your own head and lean further into the wall, extending your muscle in a slow, aching release as he stands still behind you.
“I’m not…” he trails off, backing away only slightly. “I’m not mansplaining.”
“Really?” You finally turn to face him and notice that instead of his usual red and blue suit, he’s wearing shorts and a tank top to match your own. A fresh stain of sweat dampens the worn down collar that stretches across his muscular chest, testing your resolve even further as you try to keep your cool with a casual wink. “What would you call it then, huh?”
You turn to walk away from him, stopping only as he instinctively grabs hold of your arm in a quick attempt to keep you near. He steals another glance, stalling your departure with a gentle tug back in his direction, only this one lasts a little longer than those before it. This one allows you to see the varying colors of red, brown and black in his eyes as they carefully study your face, matching the color of that dark, salacious fluid that reaches the very tips of your toes and glues your feet to the ground.
Uh oh.
Now you’re sinking.
“You’re touching me,” you point out, glancing down at his hand before looking back up at his gorgeous face.
“Do you want me to stop?” The boldness of his question forces you to inhale as his fingers encircle your wrist, his calloused fingertips sending a rush of warmth up your arm as they gently pull you in even closer.
Well, do you?
“No,” you whisper, barely able to recognize your own voice as the word allows him to trace his way up your forearm. “No, I don’t,” you clarify.
“Then what do you want?” He asks again, his voice dropping an octave as it vibrates in his chest.
You shiver in silence as his thumb nestles into the crook of your arm, grazing back and forth over its delicate skin like a pendulum, raising the tiny hairs on your skin as he awaits your answer. His lips are closer than they’d ever been before, full and parted as you allow him to alter your center of gravity with another gentle pull. You’re close enough now to smell his sweat as it mixes in with the sandalwood of his cologne, that intoxicating concoction making it that much harder for you to resist sinking down any further.
“I want you to touch me.” You finally give in, figuring you have nothing left to lose with his breath now hot on your cheek. “I want you to keep touching me.”
“Good,” he smirks as if that’s all he’s been waiting for, nodding his head toward the space behind you. “Now get on the mat, flat on your back.”
Like one of his new recruits you follow his orders blindly, surrendering to this inevitable seduction as you cautiously lay down at his feet.
“Now, I know you’re allergic to accepting help from anyone else, but you’re holding back when you stretch, you know that?” He wastes no time in taking your foot into his hand before pushing your leg up toward you, straightening it out just enough to make you wince. “That’s why you’re still groaning everytime you stand up.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” you laugh, trying to ignore his pelvis as it presses against you, stretching your inner thigh out even more than you were capable of doing by yourself. You groan again as he pushes your body to its limit, his palm snug against your calf as he extends it up to the level of your head, pinning your opposite thigh in place with his hip. You hiss as a sharp pain quickly follows, shooting its way up the synapses of your largest muscle as he continues to splay you apart.
“Miguel,” you stifle a whimper as he grins, a glint of his fangs showing as that pain burns its way through the rest of that muscle group.
“Oh, it’s gonna hurt before it feels better, mami,” he goads, stretching you out even further as his pelvis grinds against yours, the evidence of his arousal more than damning.
“I know, I just…” You pause as the expression on his chiseled features changes from playful to knowing, his endlessly dark eyes glancing down at your junction before looking back up at your face.
“You’re soaking wet.” He keeps his hand on your leg while snaking the other between you two, testing the polyester layer of your shorts for the moisture than you both know is there.
Words fail as your jaw falls open in disbelief, that smug look on his face interrupted only by a strand of hair falling in front of his eyes as he touches you.
“I know you’ve been trying to hide it for as long as you can, mami.” He rubs your swollen lips up and down over the cloth, forcing that all encompassing heat to burn like molten hot lava deep inside your core. “But I can smell it on you the second you walk into a room; the change in your hormones, the sweetness of your sweat, and even this.”
You moan pathetically as he pulls your shorts to the side, sliding his fingers beneath them to collect your juices and spread them up and down your length. “No panties either, huh? Turns out I was right about you.”
“Jesus, Miguel,” you plead, grasping onto his forearm just to make sure that he stays close enough to keep kindling your flame.
“Your body’s never gonna lie to me about what it wants.” He leans down and pushes his fingers inside of you, grinning against your ear as you nod helplessly in agreement. “No matter how hard you fucking try.”
He presses his thumb against your clit while kissing his way down your neck, shoulder and knee as he continues to hold your leg in its prolonged stretch. His hungry lips leave a delicious trail down the bottom of your thigh that grows more sensitive as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your burning desire with such delicate ease only he could bring forth.
“There’s no way you’re gonna relax enough for this stretch to work,” he teases. “Not like this, anyways.”
He kisses the skin around your hips, releasing his grip on your leg just enough to let it fall onto his shoulder as he lowers himself down your body. “Now, if only there was a way I could get you to relax...” He looks up at you with nearly blackened eyes, reminding you of that onyx slick as it mixes with the sparks and embers his fingers send into your core before he licks a stripe up your dripping wet center.
Without another word, he parts your folds with his nose before tasting your inner layer, savoring the mere taste of your scent as he rubs his face all over it like a warrior with his paint. He allows himself to get lost in your unique flavor, marking himself with your sex as he all but forgets to hold onto your thigh as his tongue traces over every inch of your lower lips. His mouth encompasses you entirely as his fingers continue to work inside you, pumping spark after spark of pleasure up into the molten core of your body before drenching your swollen bud in his sensual spit.
You find yourself running your fingers through his auburn locks as he takes your clit between his teeth, licking and sucking on it with eyes fixated only on you as your hips rock in tandem with the rhythm of his wrist. His fingers pound deep inside you as he hums against your bud, brushing against that bundle of nerves until that flame inside you finally bursts into an eruption of ecstasy you’d never even thought possible. Every nerve in your body ignites in a series of blissful explosions, catching fire the more he devours your raw flesh until you’re crying out and violently shaking beneath him, completely combusted.
That pain in your thigh seems to disappear entirely as a healing wave of warmth coats your skin and muscles, vibrating in your bones as he moans his approval into your well spent sex with one last lick.
“I think that oughta do it.”