Brando: Book 1
By J. D. Hawkins
Copyright 2015 © JD Hawkins
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Get it down. Take chances. It may be bad, but it’s the only way you can do anything really good.
– William Faulkner
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Acknowledgements
Prologue
My muscles scream, chest on fire, nerve endings twitching like a million thunderbolts across my torso. I can feel the beads of sweat on my forehead running down my tensed neck. I glare at the fluorescent light on the gym ceiling, feel the cold metal of the bar against my chest.
That twinge in my triceps should worry me. Gotta meet Jax at the club for drinks in a couple hours. Maybe it was a bad idea to do this big a lift at the end of a workout. Last time a lift went wrong I messed up my thigh so bad I was finger-fucking girls for a month.
Thoughts bear down on me like a load of bricks, pressing down on the ends of the bar, making it even heavier than it really is.
Don’t think, Brando. Just fucking lift.
I repeat the words like a mantra. A rhythmic drumbeat that focuses my mind. I exhale as I push, the rush of adrenaline leaving no room for thoughts, the heat burning all doubt out of me.
Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.
As I pump the bar up and down it feels like I’m lifting the entire building, like I’m trying to push a planet away from my chest. I feel like I’m calling on strength that doesn’t belong to me, strength that comes from the same deep pit of hell the pain in my muscles comes from. I exhale and my breath comes out with a long, low grunt.
The pain and the heat and the testosterone and the adrenaline swirl inside of me, and I direct it all against this fucking barbell.
When my set is finished I have just enough energy to bring the barbell back onto the claws. My fists sting as they let go of it, palms almost melded to the metal. I drop my arms and breathe deeply for a few seconds before sitting upright. My blood pumps, veins throb, and I feel the satisfied ache of a post-workout high seep into my skin.
“Pretty dangerous, benching that much without anyone spotting you,” a throaty female voice says from behind me.
I look up. The gym is almost empty except for a guy listening to his headphones as he runs on a treadmill in the corner. I save myself the trouble of turning around to see her and just look at the reflection in the wall-sized mirror in front of me.
“Looks like you spotted me just fine,” I drawl, eyeing her in the glass.
Even by gym standards, she’s unbelievable. She’s in tight black spandex pants, with nutcracker thighs and hips that seem custom-made for my hands. Her sports bra is so tight she may as well be naked, and the thought instantaneously sends about a million X-rated images through my mind. Judging by the hungry look in her eyes, I know exactly where this is going—but I’m enjoying the foreplay, so instead of just cutting to the chase and inviting her to suck my dick in the locker room, I grab the barbell and force myself through one more punishing set of reps.
It takes everything I have to keep my arms steady, my muscles screaming all the while, before slamming the bar back onto the rack and sitting up.
“Impressive,” she says, eyeing me up and down in the mirror. “You certainly don’t do things the easy way.”
“I prefer the hard way,” I tell her, checking out the curve of her breasts like I’m about to paint a portrait of them. It’s all I can do to keep myself from just grabbing her and sitting her down in my lap.
“So do I,” she purrs, running a hand across my back. She steps closer, standing behind me with the bench between her legs. Then she puts both hands on my shoulders and starts pressing and rubbing.
“Shit that’s good,” I say, closing my eyes at the deeply sweet touch of her hands – the only thing that could stop me from enjoying the ravenous eye-fucking she’s been giving me in the mirror.
“It should be,” she says, a tinge of amusement in her voice. “I’m a massage therapist here. With all the time you spend working out, I’m surprised you haven’t stopped in for a session by now.”
“So you’ve seen me around,” I growl. She rubs harder, massaging a knot next to my shoulder blade until it loosens, and I groan out loud. “Damn. Maybe it is time to see about that session.”
“Good, because you’re way past due. And I’m not gonna wait any longer.” She leans down toward my ear, her long blonde hair brushing my shoulder, and says in a low whisper, “I teach a yoga class, too.”
Her words hit me like a shot of adrenaline to the cock. I close my eyes and let her work me some more, lust building with the sensation of her palms kneading the base of my neck and the scent of her as she leans over me. I let out another low moan.
Looks like Jax might be drinking by himself for a little while tonight. But I’m sure he’ll understand.
My eyes flicker toward the guy in the corner, still running on the treadmill. The yoga teacher/massage therapist/sportswear siren reads my thoughts as easily as she reads the tension in my back and nods toward a side door.
“It’s your lucky day,” she smiles. “I’m giving a free massage to the man who can handle it.”
I stand up, grab my towel and run it over my face.
“Always good to have a massage after a workout,” I reply. “Keeps the blood flowing.”
She nods and turns, her body even more erotic in movement. The sway of her ass makes me grit my teeth. My heart thumps like a revved engine, her silhouette magnetizing every muscle in my body. This time I don’t need to push the thoughts away – I couldn’t think straight if I tried.
I follow her toward the massage room, swaggering with the loose power of muscles after a workout. She looks back over her shoulder just before opening the door, her blonde ponytail flicking over her shoulder, and winks before sliding inside.
“Close the do—” she starts, but I pounce like a predator spotting its window of attack, nothing but lust, impulse, and nature controlling me now. In a single motion I slam the door shut with one hand, push her up against it front-first, and press my groin hard against her ass. Her surprised gasp turns into a throaty giggle.
Now that I’ve got her where I want her, I’m as slow as I was quick. I wrap my hands around her waist, brushing my fingers lightly against her exposed midriff. I close my eyes, let the electricity between our skin guide me. I press my face against the side of her head, letting the scent of her drive my body wild, pulling away teasingly after every touch.