CELIA

Sage sits up in Sofia’s bed, cocks her head, red hair draped over one shoulder in her favorite pajama shorts and halter set that should have been tossed two years ago. “What happened? You look weird.”

“I just walked in on Sean in the bathroom.” Leaning against the wall, I correct my statement. “No, I knocked. He was in hysterics and I wanted to know if he’d lost his mind after how hard we worked him.”

“And?”

“Um…”

Pushing the covers back she gets on her knees, “What? Is he okay? Did you kill his spirit?”

I lock eyes with her. “He’s fine.”

Her head jerks back on her neck. “Huh?”

“He’s hung is what he is.”

Sage’s eyes widen and she whispers, “You saw his penis?”

“Oh yeah,” I nod, still thinking about it as I pull off my boots. “Sure did. Every nine or ten inches of it.”

“What?” Bouncing on the bed she says in the same hushed, excited way, “Describe it!”

“It was half-hard.”

“You mean it gets bigger? Oh my God!” Jumping off the bed she dances her twenty-two-year-old body around. “I’ve never been with anyone that size! And he’s such a stud, too. Strong silent type you know. Always watching but not in a creepy way,” she shrugs as if that’s obvious. “What did you do? Wait, why was he laughing?”

“He saw his face, and thought it was really funny how cut up he is.” Slipping out of my shirt I wince at the smell. I trained Sean first—taught him the techniques—but it was Atlas who could handle him going full strength for hours. “I need to take a shower.”

“Maybe you can join him!”

“Yeah right,” I smile, but the idea does elicit a reaction from my body. Instantly I’m awake, thinking of him in there right now.

Using all the hot water. No way.

Grabbing my robe I tie it on. With Sage giving me this knowing smile I ignore, I dash out in the hall and bang on the door, forgetting people are trying to sleep. “Don’t use all the hot water!” Some doors open and shush me. “Sorry.” They disappear, all but dad.

“Leave Atlas alone! If you’d have gotten to the bathroom first you would have left the cold for him, too.” He disappears just in time to miss Sean opening the door, not Atlas, tucking a faded black towel around his waist, beads of sweet-smelling water dripping down his body.

“I kept it short for you,” he smirks as he passes. I step aside to give him room. But he leans in, sapphires sparkling. “I could tell you needed one.”

A grin explodes, mixed with annoyance as I reach out to smack his bruised chest but he dodges it with an evasive move we taught him. “Ah ah ah, gotta be faster than that, Celia,” he smirks and chuckles his way to Atlas’s room, with me watching him until he’s gone.

Closing the door and slipping out of my robe, I twist the faucet to get the temp how I like it. My mind is occupied. When you’re training like we do, guys vs. girls working out almost every damn day, it’s difficult to keep things non-sexual. Sofia and I aren’t related to the Martinez brothers and I know she’s had it rough trying to stay platonic too. The four of us in dangerous situations time again just accentuates the temptation. Although I do have to be honest with myself and remember that it’s usually the three of them without me.

But I’ve never seen either brother, Luke or Atlas, naked.

Sean just now, covered in evidence of a row of training sessions. We’ve really kicked the shit out of him. He gets punches and kicks in, there’s no denying that he’s got natural ability. I’m not my normal color everywhere, definitely some black and blue. A cut on my thigh. Nothing major.

But him.

Sweat dripping down his muscles.

Ash-brown hair matted to his handsome head.

Beaten up, but grinning.

Laughing so hard his sapphires hypnotized me.

And then…that cock.

It was as if any woman’s wet dream was standing in front of me.

With the steam drifting in the air, water cascading down my naked body, I can’t help but imagine…what if he knocked on that door right now? I didn’t lock it. Maybe he wouldn’t even knock. He’d just slowly open the door, let himself in. Of course I’d act like I didn’t hear him, couldn’t feel him watching me bathe myself through the smoky-white curtain where only shadows and silhouettes could tease him of my shape. I’d turn a little like this, angle my hips so they looked extra curvy, rotate them in a circle, while I touched myself and let out a moan only he could hear. It would drive him crazy to think I was doing this to myself, not for his voyeuristic pleasure. But just so I could get off. Then I’d turn, arch my back like I’m doing now, bend my head into the hot stream. Shake it under the stream to make smooth, glossy sheets of my hair. My breasts would be pressed forward, nipples dark and sharp enough that he could see through the curtain. I’d let out another moan on purpose, teasing him, torturing him, and slip my fingers between my folds, slide them around a little until I found where I like it most.

Sean couldn’t just watch after that. I’d hear him groan as he pushed down his sweats he’d changed into to sleep. He’d step out of them while I pretended not to hear him coming. I’d turn to help him sneak up, my back to him, close my eyes to aide the suspense.

He’d pull the shower curtain back. I’d pretend to be startled when really I was pulsing thickly, hungry for his cock. He’d touch his finger to his lips and say, “Shhhh.”

I’d look around like I might scream for help, eyes flitting down his bruised body, hovering on his engorged shaft, licking my lips as I ached for it and hid how I felt.

He’d climb in with me. I’d watch it bounce, my eyes darting up to lock with those determined sapphires. “What are you doing?” I’d whisper. “Get out of here!”

“I want to show you what else I can offer the club.” He’d fist my hair, stare at my shocked and ready mouth, before crashing a rough kiss onto me, yanking my head back a little more with each tongue lashing. His hand would drift down, grab mine, force it onto his cock. I’d moan into his kisses like it was against my will. His fingers would explore my pussy, dipping in and stroking me with his beaten up fingers like they feel no pain now that they’re on me. He’d groan this sound that growled from his cock on up, and I’d grip his length, rubbing the tip as he worked me too.

Sean would break from the kiss, “Let me give you what you want, Celia. You like how big it is, don’t you?”

“Uh huh!” I’d moan, wincing with desire as he flicked my clit and drove me insane for more.

He’d lift my thigh, rest my foot on the old tub, like I’m doing now, and instead of my fingers it would be his huge shaft entering me inch by inch as he smirked, “So fuckin’ tight for me. Slippery like you want it, don’t you? You want more?”

“Yes!”

And he’d give me a long thrust that would fill me. Stretch me. Completely undo me. His strong hands would grip me as he bent his knees, let those sexy thigh muscles and rock hard calves do the work. We’d fuck noisily, let the whole house know. They’d start banging on the door, and I’d just smile, “Harder!” He’d give me what I want, thrusting those hips, muscles rippling, shower splashing over his shoulders every other second as he pounded me.

“Celia!” my parents would shout. “Open the door! Are you okay?!”

Jett would bellow, “Sean, you’re going home on the next flight and you’re walking to get there!”

But Sean would kiss me, rasping against my lips, “Worth it.”

Oh fuck! My pussy tightens, pounding out an orgasm that makes me boneless. I grip the wet walls and try to catch my breath as the pulses rush through me, tingles flying down my body. Panting, I turn off the water and open the curtain to find a pair of eyes staring at me. I scream like someone in a horror film even as I realize it’s our cat sitting on the countertop, serenely awaiting the opportunity to be let out of the bathroom.

“Celia?” My mother shouts, bursting from her room.

Grabbing my robe I whip it on and open the door, poke my drenched head out, “It was just Tickles, Mom,” I explain as he scurries past me and into her room. “He scared the hell out of me. Must have come in to use the cat-box and I didn’t see him when I walked in.”

“Oh,” she exhales, says to Dad as he stares out from their room, just his shoulders and grey bed-head showing. “It was the cat.” Pointing to Atlas’s room where I’m embarrassed to find him and Sean standing there, she says, “I thought it was you!”

Atlas points to his chest, surprised. “Me?”

“Not you, dummy! Him! We don’t know him well enough yet.”

Innocent, Sean shakes his head. “Would never do that, Carmen.”

She nods, shaking out her concern as she goes back to bed, muttering before Dad closes the door, “Better not.”

Atlas isn’t fazed—he goes back inside first.

Sean holds my eyes a second longer.

He gives me a wink, and disappears.