Shift into Pleasure

  Personal trainer Gabby likes to be the strong one in the gym and the bedroom. She know what she wants and she wants Michael, a new client whose aura of dark energy and predatory look promises an intense erotic encounter. But Michael has an aggressive streak of his own, and makes it clear that he’ll be the one in charge—especially when he reveals a secret about Gabby that she never expected….

  Shift Into Pleasure

  Cathleen Ross

  Contents

  Shift Into Pleasure

  Spice Briefs BPA

  Copyright

  Three nights ago, I astral-traveled for the first time. I left my body and had sex with a cute client, who I train at the gym where I work as a personal trainer. I’d thought at first that I was having an erotic dream but it was real. Hot, sweaty psychic sex. The proof that I’d astral-traveled was the scratches I’d left on Tom’s back, which I saw the next day at work. The trouble is, since I astral-traveled, I’ve had the worst nightmares. Every night I wake, my heart thumping, my gaze scanning the room for the scary thing waiting there, but there’s no one. Nothing. Always nothing, but I know there’s someone. I just can’t see him.

  It’s put me off astral-traveling. I mean, what if I’ve brought something weird back with me as a punishment for breaking the laws of the universe? What if my portal to having fun, safe sex with anyone I choose wasn’t as safe as I’d thought? I’ve put my book, The Guide to Astral-Traveling, aside for the moment.

  “Gabby, your one o’clock client, Michael, has just arrived,” said Pinky, the gay masseur who works behind our gym’s reception with me. His butterball face was flushed with hope that I’d spill my secret. Pinky’s my best friend and I wouldn’t like anything bad to happen to him.

  I glared at him and hissed, “Forget it, Pinky.”

  Pinky’s smile dropped from his face, but I ignored him. Pinky’s not tough like I am. He’s bugging me to teach him how to astral-travel, but there’s no way I’m letting him loose on the astral plane if it’s not safe. He’d freak out if he had nightmares and make me come over to his house and sleep over to protect him, which means I’d have to listen to him snoring every night.

  I looked past Pinky, ignored his dramatic sniff and saw the hottest guy I’d seen in a long time. He was over six feet tall and bulky like a weight lifter. He had a deep tan as if he’d spent hours baking in the sun on Bondi Beach in Sydney, which is close to the gym. It wasn’t just his size that drew my attention, it was his demeanor. He was watchful, like a cop who was used to working a tough beat. He carried anger with him, which drew my attention because I love a man with energy, even dark energy, because it makes for the hottest sex if tuned right.

  I sauntered from reception, letting him drink in my form, my perfect, gym-toned body. I was wearing a red micro top and matching shorts that started at my hip line and finished just below my bottom. When I came close I took in Michael’s hard, sharp features. His eyes were the color of the sea and the lids were heavily hooded, which on another man might have looked sleepy. Not on Michael. Instead, it gave him a predatory look and I didn’t know whether he was the kiss-or-kill type, just that he had full lips made for kissing. He had thick black hair down to his shoulders, a hooklike nose with slim nostrils. His tongue flicked out between his full lips and something about the action made me shiver, yet my nipples in my bra hardened. Perfect. The tiny hairs on my arms rose. I loved working on a man who intrigued me.

  I had a sense that I’d encountered Michael before but I’d checked his file and this was his first booking. I was surprised he booked me because the well-built, lift-and-grunt guys prefer lift-and-grunt trainers, whereas I order my clients to work hard and fast until they’re so weak from exertion they’re at my mercy.

  “Hi, Michael, I’m Gabby.” I held out my hand to shake his. When he took my hand in his, he used his strength to pull me in close so that I was up against his chest and he was looking down into my eyes. His narrowed into slits. I couldn’t pull my gaze away. I couldn’t move. I noticed that he had tattoos on both pectoral muscles that showed over his singlet top, hoops that curled and wound around each other, stopping just under his collarbone. Snakes. The spit dried in my mouth. I realized what they were. I adore snakes. I have an affinity for the creatures, especially pythons, since I’d bred them as a child. I stared, fixated, until someone tapped my shoulder.

  “Excuse me, Gabby?” Pinky asked.

  The spell broken, I pulled my hand from Michael’s and turned, relieved that I could move again.

  “Would Michael be interested in a massage after his session with you?”

  That was Pinky’s code for was I interested in having him follow Michael into the showers to see how big his penis was? He knew I never wasted time on a man with a small cock.

  “What a great idea,” I said. “Michael?” This was one client who was going to learn that he would not be able to dominate me, but I liked it that he tried. He’d learn.

  “Let’s see your style first,” Michael said, not taking his eyes from my face. His voice was deep and low and I had to strain to hear it. When he spoke the soft consonants seemed to blend into each other, making a hissing sound.

  “You’ll give me everything you’ve got,” I replied.

  “And more,” Michael said with a challenge in his voice.

  “Wow!” Pinky raised his perfectly plucked eyebrows and his butterball face flushed before he moved back behind reception. He loved me when a client rose to my bait. He often begged me to let him watch me seduce a client on account of Pinky never getting laid due to his rotund size, but I think that’s taking friendship a step too far.

  For a moment, I swayed on my feet under Michael’s gaze and I swear one of the heads of the snake tattoos just under his collarbone moved. I blinked and stepped back. Crazy thought. “Time to get started,” I said, keen to avoid his hypnotic gaze. I led the way to one of the rooms that contained mats and stretching equipment, aware that for a large man he moved soundlessly behind me. Grabbing one of the big mats, I laid it on the ground.

  “What are you here for?” I asked. Every muscle, every ridge of his body, was defined with such perfection that I wanted to explore him. Take off his singlet to stroke his skin and run my fingers over his tattoos, explore the indelible ink.

  “You,” he said. “I waited lifetimes to find my mate.” His voice was low and rolled like thunder when he said it.

  His words made my breath stop in my throat. He said it like he wanted to devour me as if he had the power to make me his.

  “I’m a loner. I don’t have mates,” I said, using the Aussie lexicon for friends, even though I knew that wasn’t what he meant.

  He gave me a hard stare. “Not for long.”

  A short, sharp thrill made my nipples harden. I loved a man who was confident, especially a man who was over six feet and packing rock-hard muscle. “You’ll have to impress me and that’s not easy. I train a lot of men.”

  “You haven’t done me.”

  This guy was looking at me like he was about to throw his big arms around me, crush me to him and dominate me with his size. He had no idea that I intended to work him until he was dripping, to get him used to taking my orders instead. I jabbed him in the chest. “I set a high
standard. Get down and start with some push-ups. I want to see you sweat.” I loved having a man in my power.

  He looked me over slowly, focusing on my breasts, and I enjoyed the confrontation in his gaze, but I folded my arms, waiting until he bent and moved the mat so that instead of standing on the side of it, I stood at the top. Fine. If he wanted to examine my feet as he pressed, that was okay with me.

  When Michael started, he placed his hands on either side at the top of the mat. Clearly, he liked a test when he heard one because as he rose and fell with each push-up, the hair on the crown of his head tickled all the way from my ankles over my knees to the front of my thighs. The feathery sensation made my sex clench with longing and I wanted to open my legs. He raised his head just at the apex of my sex and took a deep breath. “Keep your head down,” I ordered, pushing the crown of his head down so his neck was straight. If he wanted to come anywhere near me, he’d have to earn that right and he wasn’t the only one who could play sex games.

  I moved away and squatted at his side so I could examine his form. “Keep your abs switched on.” I put my hand on his lower back and my other on his abdominals. I felt his stomach muscles contract under my palm. His skin was cool and I was aware that my hand was no more than a finger’s length above his penis. I couldn’t feel hair under his thin singlet and I hoped his skin was smooth to the touch because that’s what I liked best in a man. I also knew that resting my hand on his abdomen would be like a caress to his groin. He was wearing loose boxer-style shorts, which made it hard for me to see if he had an erection in this position. I couldn’t wait to get him on his back and get him doing sit-ups. I moved my hand over each ridge of his six-pack, checking to see that his stomach muscles were turned on. I know I was.

  Although I wasn’t exercising I was aware that my breath was coming in short pants matching the rhythm of Michael’s. “Faster,” I ordered.

  “Keep moving your hand down and you’ll find what you’re looking for,” he challenged.

  “You wish.”

  Michael inhaled a deep breath as he increased his pace and exhaled. A low hiss, full of masculine promise, eased from his lips.

  “Finding it tough yet?”

  “Barely started,” he growled. Michael’s breath was coming harder now and I stepped back to enjoy the way his “guns”—his biceps—bulged and flexed. I noticed that he had snake tattoos on his shoulder blades, their coils twisting on his shoulders, their serpent heads colored in black ink.

  My stomach tightened. I was rare for a woman because I loved snakes. I loved their power and grace. Snakes took what they wanted. Like I did. I knew that a man who decorated his body with snakes was a man to be wary of. I was just too turned on, too sure of my power, to pay attention to it. I ran my hand lightly over his bottom and down his legs to the back of his knees, enjoying the sensation of his light body hair. He had strong hips and hard butt muscles, the type that looked sensational in a costume on Bondi Beach. His thighs were thick, the size of my torso. I was wet and I could imagine him sliding his cock into me right here in this private training room, which had mirrors on every side. I heard his breath come out in a rasp.

  I bet he could imagine that, too.

  “Nice work. Impressive.” I watched in the mirror to see Michael’s face as my fingertips stroked the soft skin at the back of his knee. A light touch in such a sensitive place can channel sensation right up a man’s thigh and into his groin.

  He met my gaze in the mirror. I saw his eyes gleam and something moved under the skin on his shoulder blades. I swear my heart missed a beat. When I looked back, Michael was facedown still doing his push-ups. I searched over the tattoos, looking for any change. Had the snake’s mouth on Michael’s left shoulder blade been open? Its fangs exposed, waiting to strike? I forced myself to focus and not to be fanciful, but my heart thumped with adrenaline. I was not a person given to imaginings. Something wasn’t right, but trouble intrigued me. I’d never met a man I couldn’t dominate.

  He started to sweat so that his singlet shirt stuck to his back. The man had the hardest body I had ever felt, no fat on any of the places I’d touched. I wanted him so badly my mouth had gone dry. What bugged me was that although Michael had built up a sweat, he barely seemed tired. What bugged me more is that I couldn’t see the size of his arousal because his shorts were too baggy. I was dying to know the size of his cock.

  “This is too easy for you.” I moved in front of him and pressed down on his shoulders as he did his push-ups. The fact was I couldn’t keep my hands off him. When he pushed up, his head was level with my sex. Let him smell my arousal. Let him want me. I’d have him begging in no time like all the rest. My shorts were tight and defined my sex and ass to perfection. Instead of moving downward for another push-up, he stayed, breathing deep. “Get moving. Give me another ten.” I braced, spread my legs, leaned forward and pushed with all my weight onto his shoulders. Looking down at the back of his dark hair, I reveled in this moment. I wanted to have sex with him, but on my terms, and I fancied this one tied down because he was too damn dangerous free. I was wondering how to go about getting what I wanted when Michael’s head tilted up, his tongue extended and he licked the inside of my thigh right up to my sex. I gasped. The pleasure was ferocious, but it was so out of order, I jumped back.

  “I didn’t give you permission to do that.”

  “I can smell you, Gabby. You want me just like I want you and I’m going to have you.” He said my name intimately, as if I belonged to him. He climbed to his feet and towered over to me. He was bigger than any man I’d ever trained, all bad-boy looks and menace, but I wouldn’t be cowed by him. He was in my territory.

  I can sense a freak a mile off and I knew this guy was edgy but I hadn’t picked him for crazy. “In my training session you do what I say. End of story. You don’t lick me. Ever!” I said, jabbing my finger into his chest.

  Something pierced my finger. I yelped. I drew my finger back and looked at the end. There were two puncture marks on the tip. “What the hell was that?”

  On his chest, where I’d jabbed him, was a tattooed snake, its mouth wide, fangs dripping tattoo-inked poison. I swear it hadn’t been there before, only the coils of its body.

  With predator-fast reflexes Michael caught up my hand, raised it to his lips and sucked on the pierced finger. The painful, burning sensation ceased. Instead the feeling of his tongue working over my finger sent spears of pleasure through me. For a moment my vision swam as heat scoured my body. I swayed toward him as if under his power. I wanted him with an intensity that threatened to take me over. “What have you done?”

  “I’ve given you what you need.” His eyes narrowed, his pupils became slits and the piercing green irises glowed. “Call it foreplay.”

  I snatched my hand back and examined my finger but the puncture marks were gone. My gaze snapped back to his strange-colored eyes, but they were normal. “I’ll show you foreplay.” I moved to slap his face with all the force I could muster, but before I could make contact, he caught my hand, his reflexes impossibly swift, and imprisoned me with his arms.

  “You want to tie me down. You want to control me. You’ll never be able to do that, Gabby. Not with me, but you’ll like what I’m going to do to you,” he said, his gaze hypnotic, mesmerizing.

  I could feel my strength draining away.

  How did he know what I’d thought? I didn’t believe in mind reading but I hadn’t believed in astral-traveling, either, until I’d done it. “Let me go. No
w!” My words were tough but my voice came out weaker than I’d ever heard it. What was happening to me?

  He released me but not before his lips had grazed mine, leaving me out of control and breathless for more. This wasn’t me. I never let a man get the better of me. “This training session is over.” I stormed out of the room and over to the shelter of reception, aware of his brooding presence following silently behind me.

  Perhaps it was the look on my face that caught Pinky’s attention because he lifted his plucked eyebrows and glanced at the clock on the wall as if to suggest that Michael’s time wasn’t up. Ignoring him, I strode behind reception.

  Michael loomed over the counter. He was colossal, so damned big he made the counter look like a matchbox. I resisted the urge to back away. No client has ever made a move on me like that.

  “Get out of here.” Sure I was bossy, that’s why clients who wanted to train hard booked me, but I’d never been rude before to a client.

  Pinky gasped.

  “Tonight,” Michael said, clearly unperturbed by my manner. “Prepare yourself for me.” And he sauntered out of the gym before I could reply.

  “What was that about?” Pinky asked

  “He licked me.” I sat on the stool behind reception. Inside, I felt all quivery, like I’d just stepped off a roller-coaster ride.

  “He licked you?” Pinky’s face matched the color of his name. “Where?”

  I motioned to my thigh and up to my sex.

  “You lucky, lucky woman,” Pinky said. “Where are you going tonight?”

  “I’m not. The man’s a control freak.”

  “So are you. You’ve found your match. Should be interesting.”

  “Pinky!”

  He raised his hands defensively. “I’m just sayin’…”

  “I’m not seeing him again,” I said, my voice final, but deep inside, a craving to have him, like the rush of a drug, roared through me as if Michael had poisoned my blood.