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“Eyes shut, Jenna. Straight ahead ten steps, then turn the corner. Halfway down the hall, then sidestep a photocopier. Smell that? That’s the coffee room. Turn right. Walk. Turn left. Skim your fingers along the reception desk. The sound of the air is changing. You’re approaching the doors. Hands out and push them open. Seven steps and you’re at the elevator. Push the ‘Down’ button."

Ding.

"Step inside. Turn around and press ‘G’.”

Jenna Song listened as the elevator doors shut and felt the floor lighten against her feet. Eyes still closed, her lips pulled to a coy smile. So far, so good.

Ding.

Her knees buffered as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open.

She stepped out. As she walked, her slipper flats on the marble floor made a soft patting sound rather than a crisp tap had it been a weekday and she was in heels. On Sunday afternoons, though, she rarely wore anything uncomfortable on her feet.

“Twenty steps. It sounds like a cavern. You’re in the center of the atrium. Pivot to your left and walk straight ahead. Reach out and touch a glass door. Tap your fob against the panel.”

Beep. Click!

Jenna opened the door, stepped into the company gym and finally opened her eyes. She knew the layout of the space in general, but sometimes a stray workout bench or weights made the path unpredictable. Best not to risk tripping and hurting herself, not while she was alone.

It amused her to know that she could negotiate her way from her desk to the gym eyes shut. She was at her desk only to water her plant since she was at the office anyway. The impromptu blind concentration test came on a whim. Of course, it would have been much more challenging if it were a weekday with coworkers scurrying about like ants in a dirt mound.

She walked to the gym’s enclosed studio. This was nice, being at the office on a Sunday, even if it was a bright summer’s afternoon. The peace and quiet was in stark contrast to the clamor of office life during the week.

Inside the carpeted studio, Jenna, already in her yoga clothes, dropped her purse aside. Looking around, she pulled her slippers off her feet with her toes. The sunshine from outside glazed the room with a hazy glow reflecting off the mirrored walls. No lights were necessary. This would do just fine.

Softly she stepped, not quite to the middle of the room, but to her “spot” where she felt the most balance.

She tied her dark, auburn hair into a tidy ponytail. After a few stretches, she settled down onto the floor, facing towards the mirrors, crossing her legs, and resting the back of her hands on her knees. Steadying herself, she found her center. Her lids settled over her grey eyes, one… two… three.

"Breathe..."

Solitude surrounded her.

She waited.

*

5 Weeks Ago…

Tyrone Briggs beat the crap out of the heavy punching bag; a flurry of furious blows bruised the leather with vicious thumps. Everyone else in the company gym gave the executive a wide berth, trying not to wince while listening to the resounding cracks of his fists and his stern grunts as he tore into his workout.

This was his way in the office as well, tearing through it, brandishing an air of angry confidence. His "scorched earth" methods took him very far in the company. He charged around the board rooms, challenged and dared everyone, and when he locked his sights on a client or a project, he was unstoppable. It earned him the notoriety and title of “The Bull” -- dark, powerful, and driven.

As of late however, “The Bull” was feeling as if he had lost some of his vigor. His tactics and persona had seemed to be wearing thin… so he thought, anyway. To everyone else, the change was barely noticeable, if at all, but that meant squat to him. To Tyrone, it gnawed at him like maggots.

His recent workouts reflected his work. He was flailing, off balance and unfocused. His punches, though powerful, were ineffective, like hitting the bag with the handle of the hammer instead of the head. The more frustrated he grew, the less command he held, the less effective he became -- a vicious cycle.

Tyrone erupted with a rampage of fists punctuated by a raging shout. He stepped back, huffing and puffing, sweat streaming down his face and along the deep lines of his rugged muscles, his dark mocha flesh glistening. His tank top was damp and stretched with perspiration. He scowled at the bag as if it was taunting him to blast through it.

He shook his head as he stripped off his gloves and tape. Not good. Pounding a bag didn’t help. Grabbing his bottle of water, he turned towards the windows of the gym’s studio. Normally, he wouldn’t have given the studio classes a second glance; they weren’t his style. Today however, as he guzzled the water, it caught his attention. He thought to himself for a long moment, then smirked and shook his head again.

"Yoga,” he muttered. “Right."

Tyrone walked towards the studio.

*

Now...

Jenna often slipped into a mild trance as she sat in her meditative pose. The world could rattle around her yet she would remain floating in her own pocket of ease. Not that she was oblivious to her surroundings. She was just attuned to what her body and mind needed at the moment to remain balanced.

Today though, she couldn’t quite find that balance. There was a miniscule waver in her breath, her heartbeat off by a microsecond. Like a pin drop on a perfect sheet of ice, a tiny chip scarred her pristine sense of balance.

Eyes still closed, she heard the door of the studio open, heavy footsteps, and the thump of a gym bag on the floor. The scent of luxurious cologne wafted up her nose and fill her lungs. Most noticeably, she felt the energy swell around her, shove at her like a stiff breeze. It was a demanding presence.

“He’s here.”

She opened and rolled her eyes upward along the lengthy, solid body of Tyrone. He stood before her, the light from outside painting the muscles along his dark, mocha skin with strips of silvery-white. He was an imposing figure.

“Hey, Jenna,” he said, speaking through a handsomely devilish grin. “Ready to do this?”

As he stepped towards her, her brow twitched. She knew by his look that he caught that like the alpha predator catches a scent. Her eyes locked onto his and she steadied her breath.

The chip on the ice fractured in a dozen different directions…

*

5 weeks ago…

Jenna’s yoga class was just winding down. It wasn't a formal class, per se; she wasn’t a certified teacher. A few weeks ago after work, she was alone in the studio just to practice some poses and free her spirit. Some onlookers asked if they could join her and she welcomed the company. Her placid nature was well-appreciated by the staff, weary and strung out after a stressful day at work. With a little encouragement, she agreed to offer a weekly after-work session.

Jenna guided everyone through a series of slow lunging poses. While not everyone did everything perfectly, the vibe in the room was relaxed and peaceful.

Just then, the door swung open and a tall, brooding man entered. Everyone other than Jenna turned their heads towards him as if on command. He glared back at them like they were prey.

Jenna could practically smell the intensity pervading the air, throwing everyone off. She finally glanced over towards him.

Tyrone shifted on his feet, his large frame swaying. After scanning the room, he leveled his sights on Jenna. Finally, he asked grudgingly, “Room for one more?”

With a passive blink, Jenna nodded. “Sure,” she replied, “We’re finishing for now, but you’re welcome to join.”

Hesitating momentarily, Tyrone made his way through the group --the Bull amongst the lambs-- to the center of the room. A wide pocket formed around him.

“Let’s resume,” Jenna said.

She did her best to restore the balance in the room, but to no avail. The others were distracted, too aware of Tyrone’s intensity and his heavy, uneven grunts. His movements were gruff, like he was fighting to bust out from a cage. He would look at his feet then at the others, clucking his tongue whenever he stumbled off balance. Soon everyone barely followed along with Jenna.

The session came to an abrupt end.

While the others filed out of the room a little more quickly than usual, Jenna remained seated on the floor, legs crossed. Tyrone sat in front of her, still shifting uncomfortably, forcing his limbs and muscles into place, and fuming to himself. It was as if he hadn’t even noticed that everyone else had left.

“Center your core,” Jenna said.

He arched a dark brow and eyed her. “What?”

Flattening her palm gently against her belly, she said, “Open your heart above your hips and breathe.”

“I am breathing," he muttered from the edge of his mouth.

“You’re pumping air in and out of your lungs,” she noted, teasing a gentle smile, “but you’re not breathing.”

Tyrone watched as her eyes closed. Her chest expanded and fell with a steady, yet strong, rhythm. She inhaled deeply and then rounded her glossy pink lips as she dispelled the air with an audible breath. Observing her for a few seconds more, it almost seemed like he could see the ease settling within her and a warm glow appearing on her light, creamy skin.

His instincts told him to scoff, shrug her damn breathing exercise off and stomp out of the studio. He shifted his jaw and thought about it for a moment, snorting once. She didn’t flinch. Finally, he took one long, deep breath, and closed his eyes.

Jenna felt the calm returning to the room. Her eyes drifted open. She smiled again when she saw the brute sitting there across from her, breathing as naturally as a sleeping infant... well, perhaps an infant bull.

“Keep breathing,” she said, her voice a caress. “Imagine your space. Make it only as big as you need it to be, not tight but snug. Fall into it.”

Tyrone lost his sense of time while sitting there. He felt a tingling sensation, like strands of energy threading through the pores of his skin. Jenna’s voice echoed in his head. Even with his eyes shut, he could feel her there in front of him.

Finally, he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that his face felt tension free. That sensation trickled down right to his toes.

“Nice position,” Jenna said.

Tyrone looked past her into the studio mirrors. At some point, he somehow had settled his body into a poised, cross-legged position. He was in no way close to the pretzel configuration Jenna had wrapped her legs in, but he definitely felt the ease in his core as his knees rested towards the floor.

She nodded her head, rolled up onto her feet, and walked over to her towel and water.

Tyrone watched her with piqued curiosity. There was little wasted movement her actions, one fluidly leading to the next. Regarding her closely, he took a moment to admire how attractive she actually was with her enticing, blended Asian features. There was a fresh, quiet spirit cascading behind her honey-toned skin.

He finally stood up. “You do this every week?”

Patting her cheek with the towel, Jenna replied, "Yes, every Wednesday evening. Want to join us?”

Caught off guard by her invitation, he measured her quickly for any trepidation. She looked back at him patiently awaiting a reply.

“Yeah,” he said, bobbing his head, “sure. I think I can do this.”

Jenna chuckled, “I’m sure you can do this. You’re obviously in good shape. I also know that you can be very determined when you want something.”

He cocked his head back, narrowing an eye on her. “Yeah? Because you know who I am?” he asked knowing full well his notoriety in the company preceded him.

She smiled. “Because I can tell by observation.”

Tyrone paused. Not the answer he had been expecting. He grinned and nodded.

Jenna shrugged her shoulders. “ And I know who you are.”

He crossed his arms and waited.

“The Bull.”

Tyrone frowned. Few ever referenced his nickname to his face. “Oh? You know my rep, then?”

“I’ve heard you go after what you want like a beast,” Jenna replied as she bent down to gather the rest of her things.

Watching her, Tyrone had a renewed appreciation for how good yoga pants could look around the female bottom. What was really catching his attention, though, was her easy deliberateness with words and actions.

“It must be gratifying, possessing that sort of drive,” Jenna headed for the door, adding, “when you know what you want.”

It struck Tyrone how she spoke especially towards him and knowing his personality.

As she led him out of the room, she continued, “Are you having trouble deciding what you want?”

Tyrone smirked, yet he stopped short of scoffing. His penchant for railroading people who spoke to him like this seemed to fail him. “You can also tell that based on observation?” he replied. “It’s my aura or something?”

Jenna didn't respond and continued walking ahead of him, seemingly unaffected by his cajoling.

He followed her through the gym, though he wasn't sure why. His thoughts were suddenly and unexpectedly crowded again.

“Tyrone,” Jenna said, turning around suddenly.

He lurched to a halt, almost walking into her. “Yeah?”

“Are you going to follow me into the ladies’ showers?” she asked.

Tyrone looked up and around her as if slapped out of a haze. “Hmm?”

As Jenna turned around, she chuckled, “There are probably a few women in here who wouldn’t mind, but I’m a little bashful myself.”

He watched her disappear around the corner.

“Excuse me,” a woman suddenly said to him from behind, his large frame blocking the way.

Tyrone stepped aside and frowned. He wasn’t sure if it was the breathing exercise or what, but he knew he sure as hell wasn’t thinking straight. He shook his head, giving his brain a bit of a rattle, then turned around. He stopped, realizing he hadn’t even asked who she was.

“Tyrone?” a voice called out from behind, pulling his head back.

Jenna peeked around the corner. “Jenna Song,” she said, then she disappeared back into the shower room.

Once more he stood there staring back at an empty space. He nodded and smile as his eyes narrowed and gleamed. “Jenna Song,” he said.

Deep within, something finally seemed to shift into focus.

In the shower room, Jenna leaned forward, her fingertips and forehead touching the wet tile as warm water spilled over her back washing off the lather from her pristine skin. Once again, her eyes were closed, her thoughts swept away with the flow and rush of water.

Often while showering or bathing, she envisioned herself emerging from the cleansing waters of the sea, her purified body shimmering as she stepped onto a secluded beach covered with soft, warm sand, a place of personal serenity.

Today, there was a shadow waiting for her on that shore, invading her space. Its masculine figure loomed over her, cast over her like a net. She knew she still had the opportunity to turn back towards the sea and swim away. Yet there she remained, on the cusp of dangerous temptation.

Jenna sighed and lifted her face toward the falling water.

*

Now…

For an hour, Jenna and Tyrone faced each other in the privacy of the studio.

She kept a close eye on him as they moved through the various positions. She was still quite impressed by how well he had taken to yoga. He lacked her flexibility, plus his bulky musculature presented some obstacles that her sleeker frame didn’t have to contend with. Yet he had a strong core and sense of balance. The poses he managed were powerful and solid, as impressive and as handsome as the man himself.

Still, she watched him carefully, as well, as the bird regards the cat below its nest. Tyrone never did or said anything overt that gave her reason to be wary, but there was something fierce in his eyes and the tone of his voice. The man was always “on”. Whether it was residuals from his work life or his personality in general, he was a force, stern and raw.

She also found it was something to admire, in many ways, and surprisingly tempting.

Jenna blinked and gave her head a subtle shake to bring her back from her thoughts. She said, “Your form is good, Tyrone. Control your breaths.”

Tyrone stood on his toes, chest forward, hands down by his waist, palms open. He squared his jaw and grimaced.

“Always with the breathing,” he muttered.

“Let it guide your body,” she assured him.

Tyrone dropped to his heels and sighed. “Not blowing you off,” he said, “Pissed about myself.”

He shook his head at the floor then looked toward Jenna. Her expression was, as usual, one of quiet encouragement.

“Let’s reset?” she said. “Whichever rest position you’re comfortable with.”

While Tyrone sat down in a crossed-leg position, Jenna settled onto her knees and then bowed down into the child’s pose: face close to the floor, arms stretched out over her head.

It inadvertently elicited a telling grin on Tyrone’s lips, seeing her bent over before him. Every minute they were together, he felt more and more sharply focused on her.

Jenna closed her eyes and breathed, centering herself as best she could. That encroaching vibe still persisted, embracing her. Despite telling herself not to look, she raised her head and peeked.

Tyrone sat in front of her, upright and strong. His eyes lingered steadily upon her. Through a curl in his mouth he said, “You look flushed.”

Jenna stiffened. “Hmm?”

“Not like you,” he continued, “You’re usually fresh as a daisy by the end of these sessions.”

She moved to a kneeling position, thinking for a moment, measuring her reply. “I must have some excess energy today.”

Tyrone smiled. “Want to burn it off?”

She cocked her head.

“Show me," he said. “What would you do if I weren’t around holding you back?”

Jenna turned her head aside and grinned. “You’re not holding me back.”

“Come on, Jenna,” he said, “show me what you got.”

She chuckled.

“I forgot. You’re ‘bashful’,” he said.

As she looked back at him, she said, “It’s not that…”

“Then show me,” Tyrone said.

Jenna paused. A commanding tone had slipped into his voice. It punctuated his unexpectedly simmering gaze.

Tyrone sat stone-faced. He also realized he had let a bit of ‘The Bull’ bust against the cage just then, yet he wasn’t going to turn tail. He wanted to see how she reacted and go from there.

Jenna slowly tilted her head to the other side, her eyes still linked on his.

“Stay or go, Jenna? It’s time to decide.”

She took a deep breath.

Tyrone held her under his stoic gaze as she stood up before him.

*

Last Wednesday...

Over the next few weeks, Tyrone was front and center in the studio for the weekly yoga session. The other participants gave him a wide berth but Jenna was unfettered. She was quietly pleased with the man’s stalwart presence in the room and his impressive progress.

For Tyrone, he appreciated her subtle, yet resolute, guidance as she led the group. She never addressed anyone specifically, though he always suspected she was speaking to him.

More so than the words she spoke, it was the cadence of her voice, the soft tones, the easy breathing, that he focused on. It was like following the trickle of a gentle stream.

The pleasing effect of watching her lithe, supple body glide effortlessly through various stances couldn't be underestimated either. No, Tyrone definitely had an appreciative eye for her physique and he admired her control over it.

“You’ve really improved,” Jenna said to him at the end of the session as the others left, “you’ve got the basic positions down pretty well.”

“I’ve practiced on the weekends,” Tyrone conceded, grinning.

She smiled. “Impressive. Dedicated when presented with a challenge?”

“I’m all in,” he said. “As you’ve noted, I’m tenacious when I want something.”

She shrugged. “I’m just surprised yoga would be something you would want.”

“Hey, I’m all for anything that requires me to be disciplined and focused.”

She walked around him to her bottle by the wall. “You’re still giving off a bit of a caged-animal vibe, though.”

“Yeah, well, it must be because you’re holding back,” Tyrone replied, “You’re not pushing us hard enough.”

“It’s not a competition. Besides,” she said, “we do this as a group. I try to keep things at a level so that everyone can participate. Leave no man behind, right?”

“Ah, so I knew you were holding back,” he chuckled.

Tyrone watched her as she drank, her back to him. He leaned over a little so he could look in her eyes through her reflection in the mirrored wall. “So how about we leave them all behind?”

Jenna swallowed and regarded him in the mirror. “What do you mean?”

“One-on-one sessions?”

She paused, leaning slightly on the barre rail running along the wall, still gazing back at him.

Tyrone kept on her, digging at the tiny notch he had just scratched. “Come on. You gonna pass on having me as a dedicated student? The Bull?”

“I’m not a teacher,” she reminded him.

“Probably wouldn’t be asking if you were one,” he said. “I find teachers too uptight.”

That cracked a smile on her lips. Jenna turned and shook her head. “I’m no expert in the slightest. This is just a hobby. I’m not sure how much I can actually help you improve.”

"Jenna, in my position, I make the decisions about who can and can’t help me.”

She sighed, “The room is booked the other nights of the week.”

“Weekends, then,” he replied quickly, “You call the time. I’ll even use my pull with Security to give us some privacy.”

Jenna looked aside, grinning, swaying in her uncertainty. “Maybe Sunday, but...”

Tyrone pressed his chin down. “I could make it worth your while.”

She shook her head. “I don’t expect to be paid.”

“Even better!” He clapped and rubbed his hands. “Shows how good a businessman I am.”

Again she smiled and tilted her head tilted regarding him with mild suspicion.

Tyrone offered his hand. “Sunday afternoon. Deal?”

Jenna shifted her sleek eyes from his hand to his face then back. Finally she took his hand, noticing how fair her skin looked against his ebony tones. It dawned on her that she had never actually touched Tyrone before. Her appreciation of his brute, raw energy spiked instantly.

As they shook hands, he said, “This’ll be good, Jenna”

With the slightest hesitancy he felt in her soft, pale hand, a deep hunger quickly manifested in his mind and spirit. Tyrone felt very certain about his words.

*

Now...

A dozen knots twisted in Jenna’s core and a million thoughts bounced in her head like marbles on a tilting floor as she moved in guarded silence before the seated Tyrone. Her “flow” was less a circular ripple of water and more like waves crashing upon rocks. Poses which had previously been as easy as walking and whistling were suddenly awkward pantomimes.

“Balance on one foot, lift the other leg behind you, curl it up and reach for it. Curve your back and lean forward. Reach the other hand forward. Breathe…”

She felt the unsteady pulse in her neck and wrist, just little tremors below the skin, but they threw her balance off as if the earth was shifting beneath her. She hobbled unsteadily.

“Breathe, Jenna… ”

“You’re not breathing,” Tyrone said, stating succinct fact.

That didn’t help Jenna. It just heightened her awareness of Tyrone’s presence, his eyes upon her.

She frowned. A gleam of perspiration appeared on her temple.

Tyrone looked on like a wall of granite even as he felt the swells of hot-blooded desire coursing through him. He trained his dark eyes upon Jenna. As much as he admired and appreciated her calm and soothing demeanor, seeing her even slightly unsure of herself, and knowing he was the catalyst for it, was something he found much more enticing, more stimulating than any lucrative business deal. It was like backing prey to the edge of a cliff.

“Some help?” Tyrone stood up.

Jenna’s frown deepened as she stumbled out of the pose. “Ah. It’s alright. I told you I just did this casually.”

“No, it looked good,” he said as he stood by her side and nodded, “Give it another go.”

Chin down, she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. She rolled them upwards to meet his face, suddenly too aware of Tyrone’s height and size advantage.

He stood there waiting. It was obvious that he wasn’t asking her to try the pose again.

Jenna slipped her lips into her mouth, moistening them as she thought. Finally, she steadied her breaths, sought out her center, then moved into the Dancer’s pose again. She eased into the initial position well enough, her flexible body bowing with an alluring curve along her back. All the while she saw in the mirror Tyrone watching her, holding her with his eyes.

“Arm out. Bend forward…”

Slowly her belly angled towards the floor as she leaned forward. Her head up, she stared ahead, past her fingertips, towards the mirror. She noticed how pink her cheeks really were, evidence of the heat building within.

Tyrone remained close, tilting his head noticeably. Starting at her foot, he scanned her body, up her leg, around her hips, her butt, her waist. He knew she could see him in the mirror and he made no attempt to mask his brazen glance. He didn’t give a damn. As he painted her body with his eyes, he wanted her to see him do so.

Jenna froze.

“Keep going,” Tyrone said.

She winced, unsure if she could even move. Suddenly she felt his palm flatten against her belly.

“Keep looking ahead,” he said, sensing her startlement. “Keep going. I’ve got you.”

Jenna began to speak, “I…”

“Keep… going,” he interrupted with a stern tongue.

She didn’t look away from the mirror, but tried to focus on her own eyes and face rather than the big, dark man beside her, holding her. At his beckoning, she settled deeper into the pose, pressing into his hand.

Tyrone liked the feel of her, even through her thin top. He imagined how soft her skin felt and admired the strength along her core. On top of all that, he relished the slight tremble he felt from her belly.

“Good. Mm-hmm,” he said, his voice deep like a bass. He placed his other hand against her back, easing her even further into the pose.

Jenna’s pelvis tilted past parallel to the floor as she stood in full pose. She would have been impressed if she didn’t know she was only managing because Tyrone held her. Her core wasn’t centered and when she tried to adjust, that’s when his hand slipped down to her butt.

“Steady,” Tyrone said. He cupped her bottom and watched his palm wrap along cheeks. She was a tempting combination of soft and tight. Unable to resist, he angled his hand, anchoring two fingers between her crevice molded behind her snug pants.

Jenna gasped at his bold touch, but held the pose maybe three seconds longer than she should have. She stumbled, releasing her leg at the back, almost falling on her face. Tyrone held her fast, though, and pulled her back. Before she realized it, she was leaning with her back pressed against his chest. She held onto his strong arm wrapped securely across her rib cage.

“I’ve got you,” Tyrone said, his mouth at her ear.

Jenna hesitated. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if he was just reassuring her or making a declaration. Feeling his other hand snake around her and then slide down to her crotch, it was suddenly obvious what was his intent.

“I’ve got you.”

Ever the cutthroat opportunist, Tyrone seized the moment instinctively. He couldn’t help himself. The woman had sharpened an edge in him he had thought he had been losing; he wasn’t about to let it slip. His hand delved deep between her clenching thighs, relishing the warmth and softness his fingers found there.

In the long seconds it took Jenna to absorb what was happening, she found her body being touched and savored on multiple fronts. Along with the busy stiff fingers of one hand stroking against her lips through her yoga pants, his other hand palmed her breasts, fingers squeezing in and out, pulling at her shirt and thumbing the tips of her nipples. His chin shoved her head aside, allowing passage for his lips to clamp against the side of her neck. He kissed and licked her smooth flesh.

Jenna’s head rolled back, a sudden, soft gasp escaping her lips, “Tyrone…”

Tyrone burned his scowling eyes on her in the mirror. It heightened the hit of the moment, seeing her melt against his touch as if he were a voyeur spying on his own explicit encounter. His desire was spiking to voracious levels and he was more than ready to unleash it on this winsome young woman. He felt alive and aware with a surge in every muscle, especially his twinging cock.

Jenna tilted her chin back down and gazed at him through the mirror, entranced by his potent, wicked look. So attuned to her spirit, she was shocked to realize how quickly it was succumbing to his lurid, virile venom. With each second she was falling further back against him. As he cinched her in tightly, she felt the lively flinch of his hot, stiffening shaft against the small of her back.

“Tyrone,” she gasped again, breathless, “Wait…”

Her hands found his. At first she just held them, flowed with them as they continued their wanton indulgences along her body. She lingered there, feeling his fingers curl and knead into her flesh.

She swallowed hard and repeated, “Tyrone…”

His brows deepened as he continued to suckle upon her neck, darkening his eyes as if they were peeking through a shadow.

Finally she pulled at his hands, having to peel off his fingers while tearing away from her own unexpected temptation.

Tyrone let her go. As she stepped away, he felt his heart pounding within. The swell of kinetic energy within kept him moving, anticipating her, craving her.

Once out of his grasp, Jenna put some distance between herself and him, pulling away from the dark spell of Tyrone’s dominant aura. As she readjusted her clothes and pushed back strands of hair, she turned her eyes away from him, away from the mirror, desperately searching for focus within herself.

Tyrone remained grounded, raising his chin and peering carefully at the back of Jenna’s head. His broad nostrils flared as he took long, steady breaths, hearing Jenna’s voice in his head reminding him to breathe and center himself. Her lessons were serving him well. His focus was a decisive pinpoint.

Without a word, Jenna collected her shoes and bag from the floor.

“Jenna, let me lay it out for you,” he spoke to her as if he were brokering one of his lucrative deals, “You can go if you want. That’s fine. But ask yourself, why did you come here today?”

A brusque confidence and command in his voice halted Jenna as she looked towards the door.

Tyrone nodded. He got her to stop. That was all he needed. “I think you know.”

Yes, she did.

Jenna closed her eyes. She swiped through her clouded mind. She came here today to meet with this man, this brutish and devilish man who brandished his demands and desires as openly and assuredly as his thousand dollar ties. There was never any question about his intentions.

“Why did you come here today, Jenna?”

Tyrone kept his eyes trained on her back, watching her shoulders rise and fall as she breathed. Eventually, her arms fell to her sides and her bag and shoes dropped to the floor. Grinning momentarily, he tightened his lips and firmed his jaw.

“Turn around, Jenna,” he said.

Slowly, she pivoted in a tight circle, her space. She raised her eyes to him, putting on a placid face to cover the crackle of nervous anticipation searing within. As he approached her slowly, she continued to search for calm in her turbulent mind and gut.

Tyrone cocked his brow and nodded. “Full disclosure,” he said, “I don’t do tender and slow. I always demand as much as you can give and more. You know how determined I can be, how disciplined I am in getting what I want, but I’m also not a patient man... and I don’t do things gently.”

Jenna drew her lips back. She swallowed quietly as she braced herself.

“I’m not here to take care of you. You have to do that yourself. All in or nothing.” Tyrone stood before her, over her, invading her space. He peered down at her and said, “If you’re not prepared to do that, I suggest you leave.”

She raised her head and settled her daisy-petal shaped eyes upon his. He was as daunting and imposing a presence as any person ever was. She gave him her answer with her unmoving gaze: she wasn’t going anywhere.

Tyrone nodded once.

A blink of her lashes was all the signal he required. His hands flashed towards her, seizing her face. He pulled her up and smothered her soft lips with a hard, forceful kiss.

Jenna stumbled forward against him, bracing herself against his solid body. As she gasped, his tongue quickly breached past her lips. The force of his desire sent a shiver through her. Like a trail of gunpowder it ignited her senses. She smelled his cologne, tasted the flavour of his tongue, and heard the hungry grunts and hums of satisfaction swell up his throat as he took her with his mouth. Overwhelmed, she was immediately in catch-up mode.

Tyrone’s hand quickly moved from her face, to her back, then down to her round butt. He dug his fingers in, scratching with ferocity, streaking lines along her pliant yoga pants. He gave her rounds a stiff slap, massaged them, then spanked them again.

Jenna’s brows flinched each time his wide palms smacked her, but she didn’t cry out. When he pulled his lips away from hers and licked the side of her neck and face, she turned her head aside and breathed sharply through gritted teeth, recovering her breath.

Tyrone loved her taste and the feel of her smooth, creamy flesh along his slithering pink tongue. He dragged his lips against her temple and growled, “You like this, Jenna? You ready for me to fuck you?”

Her eyes closed, Jenna listened as if hearing the words of the Big, Bad Wolf. They were as harsh like his continuous spanks against her backside.

Tangled closely, Tyrone reached for her wrist and pulled it down between them. He pushed her hand up against his crotch.

“Focus on this, Jenna,” he snarled, rubbing her slender hand against his long, wide cock, “Think you can stay so calm and disciplined with me fucking you hard and deep with this?”

He rarely vocalized his intent, preferring to just let his actions drive him. Yet now he felt compelled to stoke the fire, Jenna's feverish confusion serving to compound the excitement swirling in his core.

Jenna felt the heat of his hardening shaft against her hand. It radiated like a lightning rod, like every particle of energy was driven to a powerful point in Tyrone’s body. She was at a loss for words, expelling only unsteady gasps of air. Reluctance pushed aside, she chose to chase a shadow of dark desire that had never revealed itself before.

“Okay,” Tyrone said, “Okay.” A less tenacious man would have been shaking and scuffling with this much unbridled lust bristling through him, but the Bull was focused on his prize and charged ahead with brutal confidence.

He shoved Jenna back against the mirrored wall, the small of her back banging against the barre rail. One long stride forward and he was on her again, taking his indulgences upon her gaping mouth. He massaged her bare shoulders then twisted each thin strap of her top around his fingers. With a rough yank he pulled the straps to the bend of her elbows. The athletic material of Jenna’s top stretched but remained intact.

Tyrone scowled. No good. Not acceptable at all. He took half a step back, grabbed the collar of her top with both hands and wrenched it apart.

Jenna reached back, grasping the barre as her top was ripped and shredded by Tyrone’s stern grip.

With a downward snap he tore it off of her and didn’t hesitate to do the same with her sports bra. As he wrapped her tattered top around his wrist like some trophy, he cast a lecherous gaze at the tops of her glowing, creamy breasts. Small but round and pert, they suited her lithe frame perfectly. They invited Tyrone’s hungry mouth and he pounced, sampling them with hard sucks and lashing them with his long tongue.

Her hands still on the barre, steadying herself against his lusty indulgences, Jenna pinched her lower lip with her teeth, stifling her cries of pleasure. She barely muffled a gasp even as she felt his teeth snap painfully at her stiffening nipples.

Tyrone moved down further, plowing the tip of his tongue into her velvety belly button. He nipped at her taut stomach, scratching at her skin covering her tight core. Then he continued downward, clamping his hands around her butt. Pulling her in, he planted his mouth against her crotch, and gnawed and licked at her through her pants.

Jenna tilted her chin up and pressed the back of her head hard against the mirror. She blinked her eyes, clearing the fog from her vision, and focused on the reflection of sunlight on the back wall, trying to ease herself down from the brink as his tongue fluttered along her line. Her stomach hitched and a wet surge suddenly escaped through her.

Within seconds the crotch of her pants were darkened by Tyrone’s saliva and, to his satisfaction, Jenna’s inner moistness. He lapped at it through the material, but then he wanted a better taste of it. He found a seam along the back of her pants and exploited it, gripping the material and tearing through it like paper.

Again, Jenna found herself clinging to the barre, planting her feet and toes, locking her wobbly knees, as Tyrone shredded her pants till they were just tattered threads around her ankles.

With almost ridiculous patience he took a moment to raise each foot and slip the remains of her garment off, giving her ankles a kiss before lowering them to the floor. All the while he looked up at her with a leering grin, admiring her nude body. He moved on her exposed lips, reaching up and spreading apart her tender folds and exposing her pink petals to his languid licks.

Jenna covered her mouth with one hand while the other gripped the barre like a vice. Her nostrils flared with loud puffs of air, but she was resolved to mute her groans. It felt like exquisite bliss, though, Tyrone’s tongue slithering against her, within her, with force and zeal. As he teased her tingling clit with his lips and teeth, she squeezed her eyes tight, pinching a tear from each side.

Tyrone slid his fingers in, tapping more quenching moistness with stiff thrusts of his digits. His tongue swirled, lapping every drop. He couldn’t deny how tasty she was as she continued to come across his tongue and lips in trembling spurts. She had such a succulent, fresh snatch that he could just consume all day. Still, a heavy frown crossed his brows. Some detail was missing exempting this moment from perfection. He rose to his feet.

Jenna felt his tongue pull away from her, allowing her momentary respite. She breathed hard against her palm and opened her eyes just as she felt his large hand stroking at her throat.

Standing at her side, leaning against the glass, Tyrone caressed her neck gently. Breathing against her flushed face, he asked, “You’re not enjoying this, Jenna? Your body tells me you like it, but you’re so quiet.”

Jenna stared at him from the corner of her eyes. She didn’t resist as he lifted her hand away from her mouth, only to return to stroking her throat.

“Where’s that sweet, soft voice of yours? Hmm, baby?” he goaded. “Don’t fight it."

She remained mute save for quiet, trembling gasps. Then she felt his fingers start to close around her throat.

“You think I’m just gonna fuck you without you asking for it?” he said between licks of her face. He squeezed her soft neck a bit tighter. “You think you can find it in you to beg for me to fuck your tight little pussy with my big, black cock?”

He loosened his grip slightly, felt her gulp and gasp, then squeezed again, tightening his fingers.

Jenna’s eyes narrowed. She could feel the warmth building in her face evidenced by a red glow along the top of her cheeks.

“Breathe. Steady. Find the air and breathe…”

She concentrated, managing to calm herself enough to allow the passage of air to her lungs despite Tyrone’s intensifying grip.

Tyrone sneered. His other hand slinked liked a tentacle down her back, two of his fingers diving together between the trench of her ass. He skirted along the bud of her anus for a moment before plunging one of his stiff digits into her tight hole.

Jenna’s glistening eyes widened. As he continued with the rhythmic loosening and tightening of his grip, she felt the burning friction of his finger as it wriggled inside of her. Her knees buckled and only Tyrone’s secure hold of her kept her up. She clasped the back of his hand and held on.

Still grinning, Tyrone was relentless. He wormed his finger deeper with rigid, probing thrusts, smacking her butt. As he continued to squeeze her throat, he could see the slight pulse of a vein at her temple.

Gritting her teeth, Jenna felt like she was just barely holding onto her senses. Her eyes watered and blurred. The sounds of lust rippling through the room dulled in her ears as if they were slowly filling with cotton. Her whole body was shaking now, hitching against Tyrone’s wanton pleasuring.

Tyrone withdrew his finger, then reached further with his long arm, curling his fingers from behind and sinking them up into Jenna’s aching snatch. His fingers were soon glistening and wet with her dampness as he filled her with more quick thrusts.

Jenna clutched the wrist of his hand even as her fingers went numb. All she could truly feel was the incessant rub and stroke of his fingers along her inner flesh. Every fiber of her wanted to scream out in strangled ecstasy.

“Let me hear it, Jenna,” Tyrone hissed and finally lifted his hand from her throat.

Jenna’s mouth rounded wide. She drew a long, whistling breath of air as her body stiffened and her lungs expanded. With Tyrone’s fingers still thrusting into her, she let loose a resounding, primal moan, “Oh, God!”

Tyrone’s big, wide grin glistened against the light of the afternoon sun. He held Jenna up as she swooned against his arm, her typically serene and sensitive voice now an unrelenting, sultry mess of aching groans as her wetness splashed onto his hand and her legs.

That was it. Tyrone was set to explode. He pulled out his dripping fingers and released Jenna, letting her crumple to the floor on her knees gasping and coughing.

“Take a deep breath, Jenna,” he grunted, an impatient edge in his voice. He sucked her sweetness from his fingers then peeled off his damp shirt and shorts, freeing his swaying black shaft. Once more, he clamped his hands at the sides of her head. “Take a deep breath…”

Jenna, still gasping for breath, suddenly found her wide open mouth being stuffed with the head of Tyrone’s cock. She stretched her lips apart and shifted her jaw taking in inches of his hardening length.

His hands held her head as he pulled her along his shaft with a stiff but steady rhythm, the tip butting against her throat each time he went in. He held it there for a moment, enjoying the sensation as he felt her attempt to readjust her tongue.

She had never done this before, taken a man’s cock into her mouth. The taste was pungent, the feel of hard muscle along her tongue and inner cheeks bewildering. Yet, as she felt Tyrone’s hands release her head, her immediate reaction wasn’t to pull off. Instead, she rolled up onto her knees and wrapped her hand around the base of his long shaft, allowing the instinct of an innate hunger within her to take over.

Tyrone undid her ponytail and pushed his fingers through her hair, letting her dark locks fall indiscriminately across her pretty, blushing face. He felt her tongue slink across the bottom of his cock, painting it with her glistening saliva as she stroked her palm on his exposed length.

“Bring it to life, Jenna,” he said, his drive intensifying, fueled by Jenna’s spirited motions and gasps.

He gripped her hair but she was too absorbed to notice. The throbbing, hardening sensation she felt in her hand and in her mouth demanded her attention. Saliva dribbled from her lips each time she pulled off and gasped, pooling on her chest and lap. She held the hefty shaft as she gulped and sputtered before she took it in again, driving her mouth over it, enlivening his cock to a potent length.

Tyrone's blood pulsed through him. His skin stretched taut, fully erect and charged. He yanked Jenna’s head back, her lips popping off his tip with a sharp gasp. Leaning down, he smothered her mouth with a sloppy kiss, smearing her lips and chin with their mingling saliva.

He unraveled the fragment of her shirt from his wrist.

Jenna was in a near dream state. Blinking, breathing unsteadily, she watched his ebony cock sway before her hypnotically. As she pulled herself from the haze, she didn’t resist even as Tyrone grabbed her hands, clasped them together, and bound them at the wrists with strips of her own shirt.

“No holding back, Jenna,” he said as he pulled her over to the wall. He tied her hands to the barre. “I want to hear it from you. All in. You don’t hold back.”

Jenna flashed a glance to her wrists above her head then back at Tyrone as he knelt on the floor before her. A conflict of hesitation and anticipation raged in her mind. She squirmed her bare bottom on the carpet. She drew her knees together, but didn’t fight it when he pulled them back apart as he moved between them.

She regarded the harsh, sneering look in his eyes -- a lust about to be satiated. Resolve settled uneasily within her.

Tyrone slipped an arm under her thigh and tugged her roughly to him, stretching her arms. Holding her, he gave three fingers long licks, then buried them into her tender slit.

Jenna yelped. She bucked her hips up, twisting on the barre as she felt the rapid thrusts of Tyrone’s thick fingers delving deep inside of her again, scoping her inner flesh. She turned her head aside, desperately trying to muffle her gasping moans against her shoulder and arm.

“Just making some space.” With a lecherous grin, Tyrone withdrew his fingers. Pulling her leg aside further, he took hold of his cock and angled it towards Jenna’s snatch.

Jenna narrowed her eyes and glared at him. A man of indescribably dark intent stared back, but she was unable to bring herself to look down. She could feel him wield his cock though, teasing her with it. She felt the girth and weight of it sliding along her lower belly like a slick serpent. Finally she felt his thick head nudging at her slit, caressing her petals up and down, prodding them apart. She sucked in her lips and drew swift breaths through her nose. As she clutched her fingers around her shirt bindings, she felt him enter with a solid thrust.

“Huhn-ahh!”

Tyrone filled her with one quick stroke, his lengthy, dark cock going in with a sharp jolt. Enveloped within her warmth, he felt her clench against his shaft -- a delicious sensation. Immediately he reached under her other thigh, locked her in, then cranked his hips repeatedly. He accentuated each thrust with a growling grunt, pumping his ample length into Jenna’s writhing body with reckless abandon, holding true to his boast: “Hard and deep.”

Jenna’s nimble body stretched, hung like a hammock above the carpet, her hands bound and tethered to the barre, her crotch spiked against Tyrone’s. Her gasps and groans, the rattling wall mirrors, and the indulgent slaps of their bodies as they came together filled the studio. She was unable to shut out the noise, unable to resist the tantalizing aches of her overexerted body and the swell of Tyrone’s rigid cock grinding into her like a lubricated piston. She strained against her bindings, losing the sensation in her numbed hands. She didn’t care.

“Fuck!” Tyrone growled. He was bristling. He knew that, physically, Jenna was fit and deceptively strong and he was intent on testing her limits. Yet it was her spirit that drove him, that he desired the most. That was what he was experiencing with each broad thrust.

Jenna’s thighs were rubbed red from the brush of his hips. Her alluring lips pushed in and pulled out as his thick cudgel continued its harsh strokes, her light skin absorbing his length of dark flesh. Her flexibility was indeed a benefit for them both as he jerked and jolted her up and down, side to side.

With each adjustment she made he engaged her to the draw out the carnal pleasure to the fullest. As she clenched upon him, he slowed his strokes to a steady, undulating rhythm, gliding his cock in with a wicked twist of his butt, making her feel each rippling vein on his turgid shaft. Yet when he sensed her ease her relax her thighs, he obliged with zeal and fury, filling her with stiff, punishing thrusts, his hips firing forward with rapid velocity.

“Fucking tight ,” Tyrone hissed as he went full tilt.

Jenna’s hips snapped back and up with every one of Tyrone’s solid thrusts. She groaned and gasped openly, sharply, unable to muffle her mouth. She voiced her desperate pleasure continuously now, enduring the ache and tightness in every straining muscle and fiber in her body.

As the minutes wore on, even through the chaos of Tyrone’s brusque, erratic strokes, Jenna found her focus, feeling his cock throb within her core like a beacon of pleasure. She closed her eyes, breathed through her sharp gasps, and found the point of thrill in the aches and swells. Her harsh, anxious gasps gave way to languid groans in response to the hard thrusts. She clutched at the binds and held on.

Tyrone surged harder, fueled by the sensation of Jenna’s tight, wet, warmth around his cock. His dark flesh beaded with drops of perspiration. He glared at Jenna’s expression, the look of ease retuning in her face even as she moaned aloud. Her flesh was aglow from the licks of afternoon sunlight, her creamy skin blushed with sparkling pink patches.

“Tyrone… uh!” she called to him.

Unbelievably, he wanted her even more now.

He slipped out of her, his swollen cock shiny and wet. With raspy grunts, he moved Jenna around, turning her over onto her knees, facing her towards the mirrors. He groped her plush bottom then flattened his hand like a paddle and spanked her cheeks with a sharp slap, then another.

Jenna winced and yelped, stung by each swat.

As she wriggled and strained against the bindings, Tyrone continued tanning her supple ass. Her pale flesh blossomed red and pink.

“Nice and tender, now,” he said, grinning. He moved in behind between her legs.

Jenna’s head hung low as she panted, her throat parched, her hands still bound and strapped to the barre. Her ass, her whole body, was tingling, burning, as if on fire. She sensed Tyrone shroud her as his hand reached around for more teasing pinches and twists of her sore nipples.

As he held her, he shimmied up close, handling his cock, skirting it across her tender buttocks. “You’ve been so good, Jenna,” he grunted, “So strong. You’re so fucking strong.”

Jenna blinked slowly, her lips glossy and limp. She felt the tip of Tyrone’s cock testing the bud of her anus, easing against it. Her buttocks instinctively clenched.

He leaned closer to her ear, practically licking it as he spoke, “Breathe, Jenna. Just relax and focus. This’ll be good. Trust me.”

Succumbing to the shadow that had been waiting for her all this time since the day she met Tyrone, Jenna craned her neck around, glancing at him through watery eyes. Goaded by his determined glare, she eased down, sliding her knees on the carpet, spreading her legs.

Tyrone said no more. Dipping down, he shifted on his knees, angled his pelvis and burrowed the head of his cock past the rim of her hole.

Jenna’s brows pinched together. She stared at herself in the mirror, focusing on her eyes rather than the discomfort. She shuddered and hitched, but she continued to breath as Tyrone filled her, wedging his shaft between her cheeks.

Unlike his rough, heated thrusts from moments before, this was a measured stroke. Focused and disciplined, Tyrone watched as cock stretched her hole, sinking into her. He paused momentarily to readjust, before pushing in to her limits.

For several heartbeats, they stayed still and silent, joined in a most carnal pose. Jenna’s head lolled to the side, against her outstretched arm. She voiced an impossibly soft, aching groan that sent an unexpected shiver to Tyrone’s core.

Slowly, he ground his hips, gyrating his cock as it stirred and throbbed inside of her. She matched his motions, her svelte body rolling and swaying seductively, following his steady ministrations. As they synced their breaths, he locked his arms around her, holding her securely as they continued to move as a singular sexual entity: one focus, desire, and spirit.

Jenna tangled her fingers through her binding. Her gasps pitched then deepened as she shifted her head side to side. Eyes closed, she centered her entire being on the sensations Tyrone instilled upon her, within her: his hand massaging her breasts, his fingers stroking around and within her aching pussy, and his hard cock churning inside her anus. Finally, despite her best efforts, her breathing quickened till she finally just held onto it. Her body tingled and froze, seizing up and coiling. She pressed her face against her arm and groaned as she came with a forceful shudder racking her body as she twisted against the bindings. It was a full, complete release -- soaring above ecstasy.

Tyrone pushed his forehead against the back of her head, smelling her sweet, damp hair as he felt her splash against his fingers. His eyes closed, he resisted the swelling urge to explode. He wanted this to last, to stay inside Jenna, throbbing and probing within her tight hole. He’d never been more focused and alert on one point of desire.

He went for broke. He grabbed a clutch of her silky hair and yanked. As her head snapped back, the curve in her back deepened, pushing her butt into him, driving his cock to her depths. He surged with commanding, forceful strokes, stretching her, testing her limits. With every rough stroke he wrenched out every last exhausted breath from Jenna's sweet throat.

With one final, deep grind of his hips that drew a long, sultry moan from Jenna, he couldn’t hold it any longer. He reared back his head and groaned like an exhausted beast. He felt the painful rush even as he pulled out, his black cock spilling a thick wad of cum from her hole and spurting strands of it against her red blushed ass cheeks.

He leaned back on his knees, his muscles spent, as he settled his breath and heart. As he stroked his cock, he heaved and shot another load up her back. His fingers and palm were coated with his viscous cum.

Jenna felt his thick jism streak and drip across her flesh. It felt cool and not uncomfortable. Finally, her body drifted down to the side as she settled herself onto the floor, leaning against the mirrors, her hands still tied to the barre. Weary and spent, she gazed back toward Tyrone.

He smiled and moved towards her. He raised his fingers to her face and ran them across her soft lips, smearing his cum across them. He circled his fingertips, gently prying open her mouth before slipping his fingers in.

Jenna felt and tasted him in her mouth once more. His cum was bitter and pungent. As he brushed his fingers on her tongue and the inside of her cheek, she gasped and swallowed several times, his rich jism coursing down her throat. Another first for her. She skimmed her lips with her tongue, swiping away the musty film.

After a moment, Tyrone undid her bindings then sat back, legs crossed. Rubbing her wrists, Jenna watched him, as he closed his eyes and breathed. He looked balanced, satisfied, and satiated -- a handsome figure of discipline in nude, dark flesh. She felt an unexpected pulse of odd satisfaction seeing him like this.

Ignoring the aches she felt, Jenna set herself upon crossed legs, relaxed into a Lotus pose and closed her eyes. Her body glowed with a new found warmth as she recharged and found her center.

* 
“Two steps forward into the elevator. It doesn’t feel like anyone else is on it. Good. Press the button.”

Jenna kept her eyes closed, grinning to herself, as the elevator went up then came to a stop.

“Step off the elevator, turn right and walk ten steps. Open the door. Walk around some reception chairs and a potted plant then straight down the hallway. Make another right… ”

Inside the corner office, Tyrone stood by the window staring at the darkened streets below, waiting. He had stayed late again, but not to work. He had a personal session to attend to. When he heard his door open he turned and grinned. As he undid his tie and unbuttoned his cuffs, he drew deep breaths, finding that disciplined center within. The 'Bull' learned well from his teacher.

Jenna stood by the door and finally opened her sleek, grey eyes, a quiet confidence gleaming within them. As she closed the door, she showed an easy smile tinged with a subtly sharp edge. She then unzipped the back of her skirt and undid the buttons of her blouse. One… two… three…

“Breathe… ”

Solitude surrounded them.