However, when I asked what they were whispering about, they pretended like they didn’t know what I was talking about.
I brushed it off and resolved to grill Riddick about it when I got home.
Alexa Play: Only Everything by Quinn Lewis
The next few months went by in a blur.
I’d bought the supplies Riddick asked me to pick up, and he’d spent that same afternoon teaching me how to properly prep myself for sex with him.
It took some getting used to, and the first time I um…cleanedmyself was… an experience. However, like anything, once I’d done it a few times and knew what to expect, it just became my new norm.
Having proper lube was a game-changer as well. Because of what that first night meant to me, I would still consider it one of the best nights of my life, but damn.
Jergens aint got shit on Astroglide when it comes to butt stuff. Let metell ya.
Bless the lube gods because once we ripped off the bandaid and took that first leap, Riddick becameinsatiable.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t complaining. But I hadn’t expected him to be as obsessed with me as he was.
Apparently, he’d been seriously repressing his feelings for me, and now that everything was out in the open, I couldn’t believe I ever doubted how much he’d wanted me.
He couldn’t keep his hands off me. When I was working out, he was constantly touching me, and I usually ended up bent over the bench press by the time I finished my set.
Don’t even get me started on Wednesday yoga. The first time he put me in a downward dog after we hooked up, I was in the pose for less than a breath when my shorts were suddenly ripped down to my ankles, and Riddick was balls deep in my ass.
Fuck. It was hot. The way he acted like he might literallydieif he wasn’t touching me was intense but also addicting. I couldn’t get enough of him, and he clearly couldn’t get enough of me, either.
It wasn’t just the sex, and believe me, there wasa lotof sex.
He did everyday things for me that no one, not even my mother, had ever done. He took care of me to the point where I sometimes needed to ask him to relax a little.
For example, I came home from Sharkies once, totallystuffedfrom a plate of nachos that management had comped to congratulate us on a particularly grueling Friday night. Riddick had beenappalled.
‘Nachos, Finn? Really? Do you know how many trans fats are in that disgusting squeeze cheese? Those are all empty calories and clogged arteries just waiting to happen! I need you healthy, baby… Next time, just come home. I’ll make you something better.”
He was obsessed with my health and safety, which I was learning extended to things like my nutrition and hygiene practices.
He’d sort of unofficially moved in and always made me perfectly balanced meals. He made sure I took care of myself, and after we had sex, he always insisted on being the one to clean me up and take care of me.
‘Roll over, show me that beautiful ass… Are you sore? Do I need to apply some cream for you?’
‘No, Riddick, I’m fine. Besides, if I need cream, I can apply it myself.’
SMACK!
‘This ass is mine, shark bait, and I take care of things that are precious to me.’
It was both hot and sweet as fuck.
At first, I’d been a little nervous that our insane chemistry and attraction to each other were going to negatively affect my training, but it did the opposite.
I confided in him that I’d been diagnosed with ADHD as a child, but we’d never had any money for treatment, so I worked really hard to manage it by working with my symptoms instead of against them.
A few weeks later, I found him reading an article on my phone—I’d been right; the boomer didn’t even own a phone. The article had been titled:My Partner Has ADHD. How Can I Help Them Thrive?
When I’d asked him about it, he’d smirked at me and told me he’d just learned that reward-based worked wonders for people who have trouble manufacturing an appropriate amount of dopamine, and he couldn’t wait to put me on a reward-based training regime.
Spoiler alert: The rewards were orgasms.
