Page 2 of Truth or Dare, Cinderfella?

“There’s a bunch of people who come, so most board games are out,” Cielo hedged, twirling their damp straw. “And they are generally all members of the X Club.”

“Aha! You want me to come to your sex party.” I pointed at Cielo, who shrugged, not caring that a woman near us snapped her head our way at my too loud words.

“Are you saying the idea is out of character for you?” Cielo’s lips twitched in an attempt to hide their smile.

“No, just clarifying,” I laughed as Cielo grinned, having been proven right. “Is it all couples, though?”

“Honestly, it is mostly couples, or triads like mine.” Cielo leaned forward and clasped their hands together, a sparkle of mischief in their dark eyes, “But that doesn’t mean we don’t still play.”

“Ha, I’m sure you do, honey, but you’re not my usual cup of tea.” I sat back in my chair and frowned at the woman near us until she turned away. “Very few are.”

“Oh?” Cielo clapped their hands in excitement, sensing I was getting personal. “Spill the tea. Who do you usually go for then?”

Biting my lip, I considered the pros and cons of sharing with the person responsible for my taxes. We knew each other as friends first, so I decided to go ahead, “Any of your game night buddies packing serious heat?”

“You can’t mean guns…” Cielo started, then stopped, “Oh! Damn girl, you’re a size queen?”

Rolling my eyes, I might as well admit it. Leaning forward, I stage whispered, “Do I fetishize big dicks and actively seek them out? Maybe. But do I find many partners who meet up to their boasting? No.”

With a large collection of monster cocks at home, I was not satisfied by average dicks. And I was also embarrassed by my disinterest in real ones. I felt my face heating at the thought, knowing it was unrealistic and silly of me to be so hung up on the superficial. A big schlong couldn’t keep me warm at night. I was twenty-five and starting to wish I had a person to call my own, and not just the box under my bed.

“Well, I can’t promise anything, but I can assure you we always have fun,” Cielo laid a hand over mine and squeezed, drawing my attention to their kind smile. “And you don’t have to get involved or stay when the evening moves on to more carnal activities. Unless you want to.”

Cielo’s words reassured me, and I really could use an excuse to get out of my apartment more often. “Alright, I’ll be there. Text me the address.”

Chapter two

Shane

Workingoutwasoneof my favorite activities. My own personal iron sanctuary always left me high on endorphins. Call me a gym rat or fitness junkie, but I’d yet to find a high as good as beating my personal record for weight or reps.

“I want to see that ass to the grass on your next squat, Long. It’s all you,” my trainer, Jefferson, pumped me up. I wasn’t actually touching my butt to the ground, but I caught his drift.

Keeping my knees wide and in line with my toes, I pushed up with my legs while keeping my back straight. Using my abs and lower back muscles to stabilize my body, I locked my hips to finish the lift. My upper back and arms balanced the bar over my head, and I breathed in through my nose and held the air in my lungs. Breathing out, I felt the tingling of joy and happy chemicals racing through me.

“Hell, yeah, Long! You crushed your best,” Jefferson cheered, assisting as I set the bar down and re-racked.

My previous personal best was four hundred and ninety pounds, and I had finally hit the five hundred mark. My body would hurt in the morning, and it would be at least five or six days before I pushed myself so hard again, but for a moment I was all smiles. Pulling my loose, black tank-top away from where it was plastered to my abs, I fanned myself with the fabric. “Thanks, man.”

Everyone called Jefferson,Flowers. It was a play on his Spanish last name:Flores. Jefferson was a large and broad Mexican American man, so the nickname always felt ironic to me until I met his spouse. When they were together, the nickname made sense. Ash seemed to purr the name, and Jefferson melted for his other half. Still felt weird for me to call him that.

“Flowers,” Q, one of the owners of Q & A Gym, called out to my trainer.

“Hey, boss,” Jefferson replied, helping me clean up and put away the weights. Q and his husband-slash-co-owner, A, were making their way over between the weight benches. “Long beat his PR squat goal!”

“Well-done, Long!” Q made it to my side and clapped me on my sweaty shoulder. They all called me Long, though A was the only one to say it matched my six-foot-three frame. “Knew you’d get over that hump.”

“Welcome to the five hundred club.” A shook my hand and then laughed, because my weightlifting gloves met his chalky palms. He was a former Olympic gymnast to Q’s Olympic weightlifter, and I would bet A had been on the pommel horse or rings. “Time to let Q get his lift on.”

“He can’t have me showing him up,” I teased, moving into a lunge as I stretched out to begin my cool-down. I could send back taunts with the rest of the guys at the gym, but I didn’t have it in me to actually be mean.

From a nearby bench, Q snorted. He was adding weights before laying down and waiting for A to come spot him. Both men were over fifty, if I had to guess from the times we’ve hung out, but neither showed any signs of slowing down. It looked as if Q was doing the same as I lifted with two-twenty-five, but Q could probably do a few more than my usual ten reps. He passed ten and made it to thirteen when he paused, bar at his chest with A hovering just in case.

“I want one more,” Q grunted on the fourteenth push up. Looking straight up into A’s eyes, Q smirked. “If I make this last lift, you gotta give me a kiss.”

A chuckled and rolled his eyes at his husband, kissing the air in his direction as Q lifted the bar one more time, racking it right after. A ducked under the bar and gave Q a Spider-Man kiss, minus the mask and the rain, though both menwerewet with sweat.

“Our pup is going to crack up when I tell them about this later,” A kissed Q one last, chaste time before standing and leaning on the bar, “and then they’re going to make you carry them upstairs with your sore arms.”

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