Meant For Him Blog Tour - R-rated Excerpt

R-Rated 

Each exercise tormented a distinct part of his body. There was precision to the work as he focused within, as if he were able to command individual cells to do their part. Mechanically he progressed from core to limbs as he broke down muscle tissue so it could build back up even stronger.  

As one hour passed and the next was well underway, Andrew continued his circuits until he’d stretched and pulled every fiber of himself. He finished his workout with a thirty minute run on the treadmill. 

Once done, he stepped off the machine, panting. He ran an internal check, trying to sense any lingering stress.  

His mind was blessedly clear as he carried himself down the stairs to shower and change. There were just as many men as when he’d arrived earlier, but Andrew wasn’t focused on them. The ache from his workout still throbbed in his body and the penetrating heat of the steam room beckoned him. 

He made quick work of undressing, aware of the glances he received but ignoring them. With a skimpy towel, which seemed to be a staple at all sports clubs, barely clinging to his hips, he entered the small tiled area. Immediately assaulted by thick billows of vapor, Andrew stood in the middle of the room gaining his bearings. Slowly, he was able to make images along the benches. He worked his way to an empty spot where he could have some space.  

There were two guys just to his right stroking each other’s cocks. Their eyes were fixated on the objects in their hands. When the man closest to Andrew leaned over and took the second guys cock in his mouth, Andrew closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. 

For several minutes he simply breathed in and out through his nose. The door opened and closed a few times and the slurping noises next to him continued, but Andrew pushed each distraction aside, focusing on the wet heat in the room. As little as two or three months earlier, he would have watched. Maybe even participated. But meaningless encounters held no appeal to him any longer. 

The image of Peter flashed behind his closed lids, along with the imagined statement he’d made in Andrew’s fantasy. Let me take care of you. Andrew didn’t need anyone to take care of him. I know what you want. Andrew didn’t even know what he wanted. How could anyone else? 

Andrew snapped his eyed open and noticed a man leaned against the wall next to him. Each muscle stood out along his powerful frame and, as Andrew surveyed the physical prowess, he couldn’t help the way his eyes fell naturally to the man’s groin. Long fingers of one hand cupped the package, rubbing gently and doing virtually nothing to hide the sizable lump hidden beneath the towel. 

Though the steam blurred Andrew’s vision, he could tell the man was staring at him in open invitation. Had this been another time, if he hadn’t become so aware of his isolation, Andrew would have allowed his covering to slide open and his dick to lay bare for the man to see. He might even allow his hand to drift towards his groin, playing with himself. But none of those impulses or desires surfaced. Instead, Andrew closed his eyes once again, shutting out the obvious invitation. 

Rejecting the pass was enough to stimulate Andrew’s thoughts. And the more he tried to concentrate on breathing and relaxing spent muscles, the more his thoughts closed in until they captured one thing.  

Peter. 

In one day, the man had managed to wedge his way past the walls Andrew’d constructed to hold his desires at bay. And in another day Andrew would have a chance to see the guy in action at the gym. At least he hoped so. After the way he fled Jeremy and Craig’s he wouldn’t be surprised if Peter backed out. Heaviness settled in his chest. Why should he care? He barely even knew the guy. Even if he’d met him a few times and admired him at Phoenix, there was no good reason why he should care if Peter broke their date. 

Is that what their meeting at the gym was? A date? Andrew closed his eyes once again. He wondered whether Peter would wear a tee-shirt or a tank. Did he wear sports clothing like Adidas or Nike, or did he simply work out in plain cotton? Did he wear a jock or underwear?  

Each question brought new pictures with it and Andrew slid his hand towards his cock, rubbing at the growing bulge. With his palm, he created friction using the rough material covering his skin. His breathing became slightly heavier. 

Realizing what he was doing, Andrew opened his eyes to find Mr. Beefcake, who’d stood next to him. He’d moved and was now located directly in front of Andrew, his towel slung over his shoulder. 

Andrew gasped, surprised to see the man standing before him. The giant lowered himself to his knees and reached to unhitch Andrew’s towel. 

It was as if a light had been switched on. Andrew stood and brushed past the man, exiting the steam room and wincing at the rush of cool air against his skin. Securing the towel on his hips, Andrew scampered to his locker and made quick work of dressing. 

The whole time, one question screamed inside his head. Why didn’t I let that guy blow me? The man was hotter than hell and looked like he was ready to provide Hoover action on Andrew’s cock. Yet something had recoiled at the idea of letting someone touch him in that empty, purely physical way.