Claimed Hard by Her Gym Trainer
“Get on your knees and suck me like you own it, Lena—because this mouth is mine now,” Rollo snarled right against my lips, his voice a gravel-rough command that punched straight between my legs.
I dropped fast, knees hitting the rubber mat, my hands already fisting the waistband of his shorts and dragging them down his thighs. He shoved them the rest of the way himself, kicking the fabric clear of his ankles in one impatient jerk. He ripped my tank top open at the same instant, the seam tearing loud and ragged in the silence of the locked-down gym, the air-conditioning humming somewhere overhead and doing nothing to cool the heat pouring off his body. The shredded cotton hung off my shoulders, gaping wide, my chest bared to the cold air. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed dark, a bead of pre-come already slicking the swollen head. I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped my lips around him, tongue sliding hot and flat along the heavy underside, and he groaned deep enough that I felt it vibrate through his thighs where they bracketed my face, his stance widening, hips angling in close.
“That’s it, fuck—my greedy girl. This throat belongs to your trainer, doesn’t it? Say it.” His thumb dragged across my stretched lower lip, smearing spit and pre-come into my skin.
I couldn’t say it—my jaw was already aching, stretched wide around the girth of him, my tongue working the ridge under the head where he twitched hardest. So I moaned instead, a muffled, broken sound that buzzed straight up his shaft, and his hips snapped forward in answer. He fed me deeper, the blunt tip nudging the soft give of my palate, and I gagged, drool spilling hot over my chin and dripping down onto my bare chest. My thighs were already clenched tight, slick gathering between them, every choked whimper I made around his cock sending another pulse of need straight to my clit.
“Look at you. Drooling all over yourself for me. Gagging like this mouth was built for my cock.” He fisted my hair tighter, guiding the rhythm—slow, dragging pulls that scraped his length along my tongue, then a shove that crammed me full until my nose pressed his belly. “Mine. Every fucking inch of this throat is mine.”
I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder on the upstroke, tasting salt and heat, my own muffled grunts wet and obscene as he used my mouth. The mat bit cold and rough into my knees but I barely registered it—I was too busy choking on how heavy he sat on my tongue, too busy clenching around nothing, too busy wishing he’d stuff that ache lower. A line of spit connected my lips to his shaft every time he pulled back, glistening, before he drove in again and broke it. The wet, gurgling noises I made should have embarrassed me. They only made me wetter.
“Fucking perfect,” he gritted, thrusting shallow and fast now, his thighs trembling against my cheeks. “You feel how hard you’ve got me? That’s yours to swallow whenever I—” He cut off on a hiss as I sucked him to the back of my throat and held, my eyes streaming, my whole jaw screaming.
“Enough.” The word cracked out of him like a whip. He yanked my hair, dragging my mouth off his cock with a wet pop, and I gasped for air just as he hauled me up by the arms and dragged the ruined tank top off my shoulders and down my arms, flinging it aside before he shoved me flat onto my back. The mat slammed cold against my bare shoulder blades, the rough textured surface grinding into my spine as he came down over me, all that solid weight crushing the breath out of me. He hooked his fingers in my leggings and dragged them off in one rough pull—nothing underneath them but bare, slick skin, because I’d known exactly how this session would end the second he locked the doors—then forced my thighs wide with his knees, spreading me open under the harsh white gym lights.
“Look at this soaked cunt.” His voice dropped lower, rougher, his fingers swiping through the slick mess between my legs. “Dripping. All for your trainer. Mine.” He notched himself against me and slammed home in one brutal thrust that punched a cry out of my chest. I felt every thick inch split me open, the sudden stretch burning sweet, and then he caught both my wrists in one big hand, pinning them to the mat above my head, his other forearm braced hard beside my shoulder as he started to move.
The full weight of him pressed me into the floor, his sweat-slick chest dragging against my bare breasts on every stroke, my nipples scraping over hot skin. The mat scraped raw under me, his hips driving down, the angle so deep it knocked something loose in my belly each time he bottomed out. I couldn’t move—couldn’t do anything but take it, my wrists trapped in his fist, my legs forced wide, his cock plowing into me with a relentless, grinding rhythm that built and built and made the wet slap of our bodies echo off the mirrored walls.
“You feel that?” he panted against my ear, his stubble scraping my throat. “This pussy’s gripping me like it knows exactly who owns it.” Another thrust, slow and crushing, his pelvis grinding down hard against my clit before he drew back and slammed in again. “Tell me. Say you’re mine while I fuck you stupid into this floor.”
“Yours—fuck, Rollo, yours,” I choked out, my voice wrecked, my heels scrabbling for purchase against the mat.
“Goddamn right.” He ground deeper, a filthy circular roll of his hips that dragged a wail out of me. The pressure was unbearable—the heat where we joined, the slide of his sweat-soaked skin pinning mine, the heavy drag of his cock stroking that swollen spot inside me over and over. My thighs were shaking around his hips, the coil low in my belly winding tighter with every wet, brutal snap. His fist clamped harder around both my wrists and his braced arm came off the mat, his free hand grabbing my thigh and hauling it higher, opening me wider, fucking me harder. “This is what you’re for. Spread out on my mats, taking my cock, making this pretty sound.” Each thrust knocked a high broken gasp out of me. “Whose is it? Whose cunt is this?”
“Y-yours, it’s yours—” The friction was scorching, his weight crushing, the climb so steep I could barely breathe around it.
Then his weight was gone. He pulled out in a sudden slick drag that left me clenching and empty, gasping at the cold air rushing over my drenched skin, and before I could even whine in protest he had me by the arm, hauling me upright off the floor. He dropped backward onto the long padded equipment bench shoved against the mirror, sprawled with his thighs braced wide, and yanked me down after him, dragging me into a straddle over his lap. His hands clamped my hips and pulled me down hard, and his cock found me again, the head notching against my soaked entrance before he slammed me down the full length of him.
I cried out at the sudden, brutal depth of it—gravity dragging me down onto every thick inch, so much deeper at this angle, the head jammed up against something that made my whole body jolt. My thighs burned from the stretch, splayed wide over his, my knees digging into the bench on either side of him, and his fingers dug bruises into my hipbones.
“Ride it.” His teeth scraped my jaw, his breath hot and ragged. “Show me how this body comes for its owner.”
I planted my hands on his shoulders and started to move, lifting and dropping in fast, frantic bounces, the wet sound of it obscene in the empty room. Every drop drove him up into that perfect spot, his cock spearing deep, and the new angle had me clenching so hard I could feel my own pulse around him. His dirty talk turned to gravel, mouthing filth against my throat. “Look at you. Riding your trainer’s cock like a desperate little thing. That’s it—faster. Let me feel this cunt working for it.”
I slammed down harder, thighs screaming, sweat sliding down my back, my breasts bouncing against his chest as he yanked me down to meet every forward snap of his hips. The coil in my belly cinched unbearably tight, the friction white-hot, the pressure of him filling me at that brutal depth shoving me right to the edge.
“Come on, Lena,” he growled, one hand fisting my hair, dragging my head back so he could watch my face come apart. “Let me feel this cunt claim me back. You’re mine—every shake, every scream, every fucking drop of it. Now give it to me.”
It tore through me like he’d hit a switch buried deep behind my clit—a hard, clenching detonation that locked my whole body rigid on his lap, my walls clamping and fluttering and grinding down around him so violently my vision blurred at the edges. I was still convulsing, still gushing slick down the length of him, when I felt his whole body seize beneath me. My peak ripped his straight out of him—he choked on a shout, hips jerking up against the drag of my weight as he flooded me, pumping hot and deep while my pulsing cunt milked every spasm out of him. We shook through it locked together, his curses guttural against my throat, my own broken cries answering until the aftershocks finally loosened their grip.
He didn’t soften his hold. Still buried to the hilt, he tugged my hair until I met his eyes, a slow filthy grin spreading across his sweat-slick face. “Same time tomorrow,” he rasped, rolling his hips once, lazy and possessive, making me whimper around the oversensitive stretch. “And every session after. Because this cunt’s on my schedule now—and I don’t take cancellations.”