Garrett by Sawyer Bennett

remember that this moment with Garrett is fleeting and nothing but a temporary respite.

Chapter 7
Garrett
    Holding on to the support bar with one hand, I reach the other out and crank up the speed on the treadmill. I’m at just over three miles and I need to bang out another two before I can say that my workout is officially over. Alex runs beside me¸ and I watch him increase the speed on his machine to keep pace with me. Just to outdo him, I hit the up button two more times, and my legs are pumping hard as I race him in place. Practically sprinting but going nowhere.
    Normally, we both like to run outside, but damn North Carolina and its infernal heat and humidity that reaches blistering around mid-morning. This time of the year, it’s safer for us to run indoors, and especially after the brutal practice we had this morning, I’m thankful for the ability to run inside an air-conditioned building.
    The pounding of my feet on the wide, rotating belt is drowned out by Weezer’s “Hash Pipe” blasting in my earbuds. Sweat pours down my face and chest, and I take a careful moment to grab the gray T-shirt I had taken off and laid on one of the support bars before starting my run, and give my face a mop-up.
    And for what seems to be the millionth time today…something occurs that has never happened before in my life. I think about the woman I fucked last night.
    No, correction…what Olivia and I did last night was something different from just impersonal fucking. I knew that it was going to be different when we kissed in the stairwell of the parking garage. I didn’t know it was going to necessarily happen last night, but I knew when and if it happened, it was going to be different. It’s why I had resolved last night, when I dropped her off at her apartment, that we wouldn’t have sex and that I would indeed ask her out again…and again…and again, if that’s what it took to get between her thighs.
    Turns out…it did, in fact, happen last night, and I’m not regretting that at all. How could I when I had some stellar sex with a beautiful, intelligent, and funny woman who seriously pushes every one of my sexual buttons?
    And pushes them hard.
    I suspect there was something driving Olivia last night, because in the span of about ten hours she went from proclaiming that there would be no sex on our date to telling me that she “needed it.” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that something happened in that time period to change her mind, and I’m insanely curious to find out what it is, but whatever the reason…I’m not going to argue about it.
    I’m young, and yeah, I’ve been with a lot of women. It’s not a prideful thing for me to say that, but merely a way to put it in perspective for the jaundiced eye that looks at me with a bit of skepticism when I say that last night was beyond fantastic. I didn’t do anything with Olivia that I haven’t done with another woman. I’ve gone down on plenty, but none tasted as sweet as her. Their moans, and gasps, and tightening of their legs against the sides of my head as they came never made me as turned on as I was last night. I swear…I almost felt like I could orgasm just by making her come.
    And I’ve certainly had plenty of women ride me to fucking oblivion before, but none like Olivia. No woman had ever told me before that she wanted to make me feel as good as I made her feel. No woman felt as sweet or as warm when she sank on to me, and no woman looked as erotic as Olivia did with her caramel-colored hair swaying all around as she rode my cock.
    Okay, dial it down a notch with the erotic memories, Samuelson, or you’ll end up with a boner flopping all around on your run.
    God…I think I may be going crazy with this obsessive thinking about her. I ended up staying at her house all night, which again…nothing I haven’t done before. I don’t do it often, and it’s usually because I may have had too much to drink and don’t want to