“Sure, I can give you a few pointers. Since you need my help,” I allowed graciously.
He chuckled and came to stand beside me in front of the mirror.
“Point away.”
I moved behind him, correcting his posture first. Honestly, it was already good, but it was fun to poke him in places and get him to straighten up. I walked around the front of him and looked down at the floor.
“Touch your toes,” I ordered, enjoying my chance to be bossy.
Brody bent forward, easily placing his hands on the top of his feet. I put my hands to his shoulders and gently pressed down, stretching my own back as I went.
He bent farther.
I straightened up for a moment and waited for him to stand.
“Feeling okay?”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “Just getting started.”
I sat on the floor and opened my legs wide, facing him. God, it had been so long since I’d properly stretched. I used to do it every single night before bed. Now, my body felt tight and sensitive.
Brody sat opposite me, stretching his legs open as well. He put his feet just inside my ankles and held his hands out for me.
“Know this one?” I rolled as forward as I could and took a deep breath against the burning pain in my hamstrings.
“Of course, I’m not a complete dunce,” he teased. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I confirmed.
He slowly leaned back, taking me with him. Despite my tightness, I still had good flexibility, better than average. My forehead hit the floor inches short of his crotch.
“Don’t say a word,” I warned him.
“Not even one,” he said, arrogant as ever.
After what felt like forever, his tight grip relaxed and I moved backward. The screaming in my hamstrings faded as I leaned back, taking Brody with me.
He rocked forward, stretching far more easily than I’d thought he’d be able to. Then again, hockey players had to be flexible.
His face came toward the floor, but he was so much damn taller than me, his face wasn’t going to touch the mat. It was going to touchme. I stopped pulling him when his face was inches away from my crotch, my cheeks heating again, after they’d only just cooled down.
But he didn’t stop there. He stretched down farther, his hands gripping my upper arms, so his face nudged into me.
“Hey!” I protested hotly and tried to move, but unable to with his feet pushing my legs outward and his hands locked on my arms.
He pressed his damn face into my pussy, right there in broad daylight in the gym. I could only stare as his chest expanded with a long inhale. My yoga leggings were so damn thin I could feel the heat of his exhale, as if he’d mashed his face to my bare skin.
“What are you doing?!”
I panicked. His hot breath felt like it was melting my panties against my pussy. His nose right on my clit short-circuited my brain.
“Stretching, what does it look like?” came his muffled reply.
He hadn’t moved his face from my pussy to speak, so the vibration of his voice only increased the delicious friction.
“I can smell you, heathen. Dripping wet in the gym, where anyone could see,” he rumbled.
Heat charged through me.
