Chapter 1: The Arm Wrestling Bet
The gymnasium buzzed with the usual post-practice chaos—sneakers squeaking, basketballs thudding against hardwood, the occasional burst of laughter from the locker room. April leaned against the bleachers, arms crossed, watching Grant with narrowed eyes as he stretched his long frame with effortless grace.
"You sure you wanna do this?" she challenged, rolling her shoulders. "I’ve put guys twice your size on their asses."
Grant smirked, settling into the chair opposite her. "Bet you haven’t met anyone like me." His voice was low, deliberate, and it sent an unexpected prickle down her spine.
Their hands clasped, his fingers wrapping around hers with an unsettling confidence. April gritted her teeth, muscles tensing as she pushed hard—only to freeze when her arm didn’t budge.
Grant didn’t even strain. His grip was iron, his forearm corded with quiet strength as he steadily, inexorably forced her hand down.
"Fuck—" she gasped, breath hitching as the back of her knuckles hit the table with a sharp thud.
He leaned in, his mouth brushing her ear. "You thought I was just another kid." His breath was hot against her skin. "But I’m going to show you who’s really in control."
A shiver ripped through her, her pulse hammering—not from exertion, but something deeper, darker. No man had ever made her feel like this.
Before she could respond, his free hand slid up her thigh, fingers digging possessively into the firm muscle. "You’re strong," he murmured. "But not stronger than me."
April swallowed hard, her body betraying her as heat pooled between her legs. "This isn’t—"
"Isn’t what?" His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, slow, deliberate. "What you expected?"
She couldn’t look away from his eyes—dark, knowing. Like he’d already unraveled her.
The gym faded around them, the noise distant, irrelevant. All she could focus on was the weight of his dominance, the way it coiled around her, heavy and intoxicating.
His grip tightened. "Say it."
Her lips parted, breath ragged. "You’re… different."
Grant’s smile was sharp. "Good girl."
His breath was hot against her ear, sending another jolt through her. She couldn't move, couldn’t think—just felt the slick heat between her thighs betraying her.
"You're soaked," he murmured, fingers brushing the damp fabric of her shorts. "Such a very good girl."
She swallowed hard, pulse hammering. "I—I should go change," she stammered, voice shaky.
He smirked. "Yeah, you should. Wouldn’t want you walking around like that."
April didn’t know why she obeyed, but her feet carried her toward her office anyway, her thoughts a blur. Why was she letting this happen?
The office door clicked shut behind her. Then the lock.
Her breath hitched as she turned, watching Grant lean against the door, arms crossed. "Looking for clean shorts?" His grin was dark, knowing. "Waste of time. You’ll just ruin another pair."
Before she could protest, he closed the distance, fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts and peeling them down her thighs. Cool air hit her bare skin.
She gasped, suddenly exposed, her pussy glistening.
"Fuck," Grant muttered, dragging a thumb through her wetness. "Perfect."
April’s knees nearly buckled. No one had ever looked at her like this—like she was something to be devoured.
"I love good girls," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "Love making them feel safe." His fingers slid back between her legs, stroking slow. "Love how tight you are."
A whimper escaped her. She hated how good it felt, how much she craved his approval.
He tore her t-shirt open with one sharp tug, the fabric splitting down the middle. Her bra followed, tossed aside like an afterthought.
"Great tits," he growled, mouth closing over a nipple, sucking hard. "Fucking perfect."
She arched into him, hips rocking against his fingers, lost in the way he took what he wanted.
Then his eyes locked onto hers, dark and possessive. "I like this pussy enough to make it mine."
Her stomach clenched. She should stop this.
But she didn’t. st
**"My pussy,"** he says as he begins stimulating her with his hand more precisely, fingers working in tight, possessive circles. April can feel an orgasm building very quickly, heat coiling low in her stomach, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Grant pushes her down onto the table, her legs in the air, muscles taut. He leans over her, his body a solid weight pressing her into the cold surface. His free hand grabs, kneads, and slaps her tits, the sharp sting making her whimper.
Then his mouth is on her, tongue flicking against her clit with ruthless efficiency. She arches, her back lifting off the table as he brings her right to the edge—then stops, pulling back just as she’s about to shatter.
"You’re not coming yet," he growls, rising to his full height. His fingers return, faster now, working her over with cruel precision until she’s writhing, her thighs trembling.
**"Good girl,"** he murmurs, watching her body respond to his touch.
Then his grip shifts, his other hand unbuckling his belt with one sharp tug. **"This pussy belongs to me now."**
She barely has time to process the words before he’s pulling her toward him, dragging her hips to the edge of the table. His cock—thick, hard, already glistening—presses against her entrance.
April barely has time to brace before he drives into her with one brutal thrust. Her breath leaves her in a sharp cry as he stretches her open, filling her completely.
"Fuck—!" she gasps, fingers scrambling against the table.
He doesn’t wait, doesn’t let her adjust. His hands grip her neck and shoulders, pinning her down as he pushes deeper, forcing every inch inside.
"You take it so well," he breathes, his voice rough with approval.
She can’t think, can’t speak—just feels him, thick and unrelenting, carving his claim into her body.
And God help her, she loves it.
His hips snap forward, driving into her with a rhythm that steals her breath, her body jolting against the table with every thrust. Sweat glistens on her collarbone, her tits bouncing as he fucks her hard and deep, his fingers bruising her hips.
Then he stops abruptly, pulling out and yanking her up by the hair. "Stand up," he growls, turning her to face him. His eyes roam over her—wild red hair tangled from his grip, her tanned skin flushed, nipples stiff. His palm drags down her chest, squeezing a breast before sliding lower, tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her ass.
"You’re fucking perfect," he murmurs, thumb brushing her lower lip.
April trembles, her thighs slick with arousal.
"Say it," he commands, fingers tightening in her hair.
"Please," she gasps.
His grin is dark. "Please… what?"
She whimpers, her pulse throbbing between her legs. "Please, Daddy."
His cock slams back inside her before the words fully leave her lips, stretching her open with a rough groan. "Goooood girl," he rasps, kissing her roughly. "But I was going to fuck you anyway." He spins her around, bending her over the table, and slams into her from behind.
The slap of skin fills the room as he pounds into her, each thrust making her moan louder. She’s never felt so full, so owned.
When he flips her onto her back again, spreading her legs over the edge of the table, she arches up, desperate for more. He fucks her slow now, watching her face as she falls apart.
"Come for me," he orders, and she does, shuddering around him.
He pulls out at the last second, hot stripes of cum painting her tits. Then, just like that, his touch softens—his fingers brushing her cheek, his lips pressing to her forehead.
"You did so good, baby," he murmurs, kissing her gently. "I’ll take care of you."
Her chest tightens. No one’s ever made her feel like this—broken open, then pieced back together.
When he kisses her mouth, slow and deep, she melts.
"You’re beautiful," he says, voice rough. "Gonna be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?"
April nods, her heart pounding. She’s his. Completely.
Her breath catches mid-sigh—**Becky**. The name slams into her like a bucket of ice water. The girlfriend who packed her lunch this morning. The girlfriend who kissed her goodbye with soft lips and whispered *"Love you"* against her cheek.
April’s body locks up beneath Grant’s touch.
He notices instantly, fingers stilling on her skin. "What?" His voice is rough, possessive.
"I—" She swallows, throat tight. "I have to go."
Grant’s grip tightens on her waist. "No, you don’t." His thumb brushes the inside of her thigh, slow, deliberate. "You’re mine now. You said it."
Her pulse hammers. His initials—**G.M.**—gleam on her chest, sticky and damning.
A knock rattles the door.
"April?" Becky’s voice, muffled but unmistakable. "Babe, you in there? Your car’s still outside."
Grant exhales a dark laugh against her ear. "Fuck. This just got interesting."
April’s stomach twists. The locker room scent—sweat, sex, shame—clings to her skin.
Becky knocks again, harder. "Hello?"
Grant’s teeth graze April’s shoulder as he murmurs, "Tell her you’re busy."
She should push him away. She *should*.
But his hand slides between her legs again, fingers pressing just right, and a whimper escapes her instead.
Becky’s shadow moves under the door. "April, I *know* you’re in there."
Grant licks a stripe up her neck. "Let her hear," he rasps. "Let her know who owns you now."
April’s hips jerk against his hand.
The doorknob turns—**locked**.
Becky’s voice goes sharp. "Open the fucking door."
Grant smirks, dragging April closer. "Your call, *good girl*."
April’s breath hitched as Grant’s fingers dug into her hip, his other hand still working between her thighs, relentless. The heat of his body pressed against her back, his cock hard against her ass—reminding her exactly what she was choosing.
Becky’s fist pounded the door. **"April, I swear to god—"**
Grant’s lips brushed her ear. **"Tell her to leave."** His fingers curled inside her, deep, and April’s knees nearly gave out.
A moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it.
**"Fuck,"** Becky hissed, her voice cracking. **"You’re fucking kidding me."**
April’s chest tightened, guilt and need warring inside her. She should stop this. She should—
**"Yes, Daddy,"** she whispered.
Grant’s grin was pure fucking victory. His grip tightened, dragging her back against him as he slammed into her again, filling her in one brutal thrust.
Becky’s sharp inhale was audible even through the door. **"You disgusting—"**
April arched with a cry as Grant’s hand snaked around her throat, holding her still while he fucked her harder, deeper, the sound of skin on skin obscene in the small office.
**"Say it again,"** he growled.
**"Yes, Daddy,"** she gasped, nails digging into the table.
Grant chuckled darkly, his hips snapping forward, hitting so deep she saw stars. **"Perfect."**
A loud crash—Becky kicking the door. **"I’m not just gonna stand here and listen to this!"**
But Grant wasn’t stopping. He bent April over farther, his thrusts turning punishing, each one wrenching a broken moan from her lips.
**"She’s gone,"** he murmured, nipping at her shoulder. **"Just us now."**
April’s vision blurred, her body trembling as pleasure coiled tighter, threatening to snap.
**"Come for me,"** he ordered.
And she did—shattering around him with a sob as Becky’s footsteps echoed down the hall.
Grant didn’t slow, fucking her through it, his grip bruising, possessive.
**"Mine,"** he growled against her skin.
And God help her, she believed him.
Grant’s grip on her hip tightened as he dragged her back against him, his cock burying deeper, stretching her with every brutal thrust. **"That’s it, take it,"** he growled, his breath hot against her ear.
April moaned loudly, the sound raw and unfiltered, echoing off the locker room walls. Her fingers scrambled against the table, nails digging into the cheap laminate as he fucked her like he owned her—because right now, he did.
**"Fuck, you’re so tight,"** he muttered, his free hand sliding up her back to fist in her hair, yanking her head back. **"Gonna make sure you never forget who fucks you best."**
She whimpered, her body arching, every nerve on fire. His thumb found her clit, rubbing rough circles just as his hips snapped forward, hitting that spot inside her that made her vision blur.
**"Daddy—!"** she gasped, her thighs trembling.
**"Yeah, scream for me,"** he ordered, his voice thick with dominance. **"Let the whole fucking school hear you."**
April’s breath came in ragged gasps, her skin slick with sweat as he pounded into her, relentless. The table creaked under their weight, the sound drowned out by the slap of skin and her own desperate moans.
Then his hand wrapped around her throat—not tight enough to choke, just enough to remind her who was in control. **"You’re mine now,"** he murmured, lips brushing her ear. **"Say it."**
She didn’t hesitate. **"Yours,"** she panted, her voice breaking. **"Only yours."**
Grant’s teeth grazed her shoulder, marking her just as deep as the way he was fucking her. **"Good girl."**
April’s orgasm crashed over her, sharp and blinding, her body clamping around him as she cried out. Grant followed with a rough groan, filling her completely, his grip bruising as he held her still, pumping every last drop into her.
For a moment, the only sound was their heavy breathing, the air thick with sex and sweat. Then, footsteps echoed down the hall—hurried, angry.
Becky.
Grant smirked, pressing a kiss to the back of April’s neck. **"Guess we gave her a show."**
April’s stomach twisted, guilt and pleasure warring inside her. But when his fingers trailed down her spine, possessive and sure, she shivered—and knew she’d do it all over again.
April yanked Grant’s button-up shirt from the nearby chair, barely fastening it over her sweat-slicked body before unlocking the door. Becky stood frozen, her face draining of color as she took in April’s disheveled hair, swollen lips, the unmistakable scent of sex clinging to the air.
“Babe, I can explain—” April started, voice unsteady.
Becky’s eyes flicked past her to where Grant lounged against the desk, still shirtless, still hard. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Grant reached past April, slamming the door shut and twisting the lock with a smirk. “Easier to show you,” he murmured, pulling April against him. His mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her gasp as his hands slipped under the shirt, kneading her bare tits.
Becky made a strangled noise. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
April tried to pull back, but Grant’s grip was iron. “Becky, listen—”
He spit into his palm, slicked his cock, then shoved the shirt open. “Watch,” he ordered, pressing April’s tits together around his length.
Becky didn’t move. Her hands clenched, but her gaze stayed locked on the thick shaft sliding between April’s breasts, glistening with arousal.
“He—he just gets me,” April stammered, her breath hitching as Grant’s cockhead nudged her chin. “The way he touches me… I’ve never—”
Grant groaned, thrusting deeper between her cleavage. “Tell her how much you love Daddy’s cock.”
Becky’s lips parted, her anger faltering as April whimpered, “I love it.”
The room was thick with the sound of skin on skin, Grant’s hips pumping steadily. April’s explanation dissolved into moans, her nipples stiff against his shaft.
Becky exhaled sharply, but she didn’t leave.
Grant’s grin was vicious. “See? She wants to watch.”
April’s pulse hammered—guilt, shame, and something darker twisting in her gut as Becky’s gaze dropped to where their bodies met.
April exhaled shakily and stepped toward Becky, her fingers trembling as they brushed her girlfriend’s wrist. “Just… come here,” she murmured, voice low and rough. “You’ll understand.”
Becky’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t pull away as April guided her forward, her steps unsteady. Grant watched, his cock still glistening with April’s arousal, his smirk darkening as Becky’s breath hitched.
“Trust me,” April whispered, fingers working the buttons of Becky’s blouse. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but lace panties and a flushed, uncertain expression.
Grant’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Becky’s panties, yanking them down in one smooth motion. She gasped, her hands flying to cover herself, but April caught her wrists, holding them firmly.
“Look at him,” April urged, pressing a kiss to Becky’s shoulder.
Grant’s grip was iron as he pulled Becky onto his lap, her thighs spreading instinctively over his. She barely had time to protest before the thick head of his cock pressed against her—hot, insistent.
“Oh fuck—” Becky choked out as he surged upward, filling her in one brutal thrust.
April watched, biting her lip as Becky’s back arched, her nails digging into Grant’s shoulders. “See?” April breathed, stroking Becky’s hair. “You feel how good he is?”
Becky whimpered, her body trembling as Grant began to move, stretching her open with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. “Too… too much,” she gasped.
Grant’s chuckle was dark, his hands gripping her waist, forcing her down harder. “You’ll take it.”
And she did.
Grant’s fingers dug into Becky’s hips hard enough to leave bruises as he dragged her down onto his cock with each thrust, the wet slap of skin filling the office. “That’s it,” he growled, watching her lips part in a silent scream. “Take it like a good fucking girl.”
April’s breath hitched as she pressed her naked body against Becky’s back, her fingers sliding between Becky’s thighs to circle her clit in tight, merciless strokes. “You feel how deep he gets?” she whispered, biting Becky’s earlobe.
Becky whimpered, her body trembling between them—Grant’s ruthless rhythm and April’s teasing fingers pulling her apart. “I—I can’t—”
“You can,” Grant snapped, yanking her hair back to expose her throat. His teeth scraped over her pulse point. “And you will.”
April moaned as she felt Becky’s pussy clench around Grant’s cock, the slick heat coating his length as he fucked into her harder. “God, you look so pretty like this,” she murmured, her free hand groping Becky’s tits, pinching a nipple until Becky arched with a choked cry.
Grant’s smirk was razor-sharp as he locked eyes with April over Becky’s shoulder. “Mine,” he stated, voice rough with possession.
April nodded, breathless. “Yours.”
Becky’s orgasm hit like a storm, her body seizing as Grant buried himself to the hilt, holding her still as she came uncontrollably around him.
He didn’t stop.
His grip tightened, hips snapping faster, driving her through the aftershocks until she was sobbing, overstimulated and writhing. “Please—!”
Grant’s laugh was dark. “Begging already?” He pulled out abruptly, flipping Becky onto her knees before shoving into her from behind in one brutal stroke. “You don’t get to tap out.”
April watched, transfixed, as Grant’s hand fisted in Becky’s hair, forcing her to meet his thrusts. His free hand reached back, grabbing April’s wrist and dragging her forward. “Suck my fingers,” he ordered.
She obeyed without hesitation, swirling her tongue around his digits, her eyes locked on his as he groaned. “Good girl.”
Then his wet fingers were between Becky’s ass cheeks, pressing—
Becky gasped. “Wait—!”
Grant didn’t.