Page 27 of The Bloke

I remembered vague details of the night, but not everything. I wasn’t completely blackout drunk, but there were a few missing pieces that I just couldn’t seem to recover, one of which was the wedding. I vividly remember us fucking in his massive bed and how he tenderly cleaned me up afterward. Every time my mind went back to that memory, I could feel my pulse racing and my face grow flushed.

“Five more… three… two… one.” I clapped my hands and turned down the music. “Great job today, ladies; wrap up with your stretch of choice, wipe down the equipment, and I’ll see you next time.”

When I woke up this morning, I thought the entire night was just an extremely vivid dream. A fantasy that my mind made up because of how drunk and needy I was. I had hoped to wake up in my bed or on Chyler’s couch, but that was far from the reality of it.

Did I feel bad for biting her head off this morning? Yes… and no. I couldn’t blame her for my blatant stupidity; she wasn’t my babysitter, nor would I ever ask her to be. She had enough shit on her plate.

I hung my head as I sat behind the front desk, feeling utterly defeated.

How was I going to get myself out of this situation? I couldn’t stay married to Colby… Could I? He was a total stranger; I didn’t know him… at all. Except that his dick is pierced…Fuck.

Is this what my life is coming to now? Decisions based on incredible, mind-melting sex?

“You can’t fucking keep him, Sienna,”I growled to myself as the front door shut, and I was now the only one left in the studio. “He doesn’t love you, he can’t, and why the fuck would you want him to anyway?” I continued talking to myself as I sighed and fell onto one of the reformers, pulling on my grip socks.

This marriage was an accident—a drunken impulse.

While lying down, I put in my earbuds and turned up “Magic” by Coco & Breezy & Baby Sol on my phone before dropping it to the floor beside me.

I needed an escape from my ridiculous thoughts.

After a nice long stretch and workout, I will come to my senses and find a way out of this fucked-up situation.

Worst case, I’ll have to give Colby hell.

Fifty minutes later, Ifinished my workout with leg circles and a straddle stretch, lying down on the reformer with my feet in the straps. I was soaked in sweat, taking most of my anger and frustration out on my body.

As I spread my legs out wide to do my final straddle stretch, something gripped my ankles, preventing me from pulling my legs back in. My eyes flared open to the ceiling, and I pulled out one of my earbuds.

“Are you fu—” I stopped, staring blankly up at the last man in the world that I wanted to see this evening.

“Fucking kidding you? No. But I’m loving this angle, love.” Colby chuckled, licking his lips as his blue eyes raked down my legs before fixating on mine.

“What are you doing here, Colby?” I hissed, glaring up at him.

“Picking up my wife for dinner.” He replied casually.

I lost all my words, just as I lost myself after hearing him call me his wife. Those two words, coming from his gorgeous mouth, were a fucking crime for making me feel anything for him. What was wrong with me?

“I’m not your wife. Get the fuck out of my studio.” I lifted my upper body to rest on my elbows and pointed to the door, which I now regretted leaving unlocked.

Releasing my ankles, the straps still holding them in place, he bent down between my spread legs and rested his hands on either side of my waist. His face was so close to mine that I could smell his spiced cinnamon scent, and my traitorous cunt tensed as his nose gently grazed against mine.

“Colby.” I breathed, my throat closing in anticipation.

I wanted him to touch me. Fuck, did I want him to touch me…

“Tell me why…” He paused, dragging circles around the tip of my nose with his. “I don’t think even you believe those words, love.”

I whimpered as his weight settled between my thighs. I had dropped the bar at the front of the reformer earlier, leaving nothing to prevent him from lying directly on top of me.

He wore grey sweatpants, sneakers, and a white T-shirt but looked so put together. His dark hair was short on the sides,long on top, and perfectly mussed. I wanted to drag my fingers through the strands and pull as hard as possible.

I swallowed, my eyes meeting his once more before dropping to his lips, attempting to restrain myself from kissing him.

“I’m. Not. Your. Wife.” I softly spoke, a slight tremble in my voice as I fought the desire building inside of me for him.

“I can fuck you into believing you are,” He murmured, his lips now just barely touching mine. Did I want to challenge him? I could feel his hard length growing against my aching cunt.Fuck. “I’d prefer you to beg me for it, but I’ll take screaming my name as a consolation.”

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