Beauty vs. Brawn. Man vs. Woman. It was a challenge to settle our rivalry once and for all, but I had no idea what she had in store for me.
It honestly took me a minute to realize what she’d done, but when I spoke through her voice and moved through her body I realized the challenge she’d set in front of me and how she’d made it even more difficult for both of us. She’d switched our bodies, and now I had all new problems to deal with.
Because even after just a moment in her skin I feel like my body is on fire. This new body of mine aches. It aches to be touched. It aches for the touch of a strong and capable man.
She thinks that she’s turned the tables on me, but she has no idea what she’s started. I might be a woman now but she’s a man and I know just what it takes to turn a man on. I know how to make her new body ache just as much as mine. I know how to make her want me.
This was supposed to be a test of strength but it’s become a battle of wills. Each passing moment has the desire growing between us. Each brushing touch sets off a need beneath our skin.
And moment by moment we’re getting closer until it all feels so inevitable. Until I find myself looking up into eyes that used to be mine and seeing the desires I feel now reflected in them.
Until there is no winning and losing anymore because both of us know just what happens next.
Excerpt
I wondered as I lingered, was he hard for me? Was his cock aching as mine would be were I in his position? Was he filled with the scent of me, my pheromones stinging his senses and making him want to give up on all propriety and give up on all sense of right and wrong and just give in to what he wanted, what we both needed?
Why wasn’t he giving in? Why wasn’t he fucking me already?
I needed it. Oh god.
I was on the way up when I broke, but Allie was there to catch me. Holding me with the reassurance of experience those hands closed on my body and those strong arms held me safe.
I felt him, felt all of him on me. I felt the relief of having his skin on my skin and I felt the strength of his reassuring bulk behind me as he pulled me up and the bar clanged into its rest in the rack and his touch, it lingered for just a moment too long to be innocent reassurance. It wasn’t a sign, but at the same time it was all the sign that I needed.
It was wrong. It was losing. It was giving in and I should have hated it but I didn’t give a damn anymore.
I needed this instead, and it would be enough.
Spinning in the rack I whispered to him and to myself, “I don’t care you win I guess it doesn’t matter to me.”
And the words came out in a tumble but it didn’t make a difference because they were lost along with any real sense of competition the moment my lips found his and I pressed myself hard into him, moaning too quick to hide my need as I parted my lips and pressed my urgent and eager tongue into his strong and capable self.
One moment we were competing and the next it was all lost in the flurry of attention we paid to one another. His hands were all over me grasping at me, the rough callouses of his hands dragging red lines of pleasure on my skin as he grasped and pulled and pressed me to him.
And I gave myself over to him. I moaned and pressed against him just as much as he was pulling me into himself. I felt the heat of his skin, the sweat of his effort, the pulse that was racing inside of him as I kneaded my hands into his flesh and felt the tight tension of muscularity beneath the surface there.
He was strong. I knew he was strong because dammit this was my body after all but feeling the contrast of him against this new form of mine only made the gulf seem wider. It made it impossible to ignore the fact that he could take me and have me and give to me everything that I ached for. That I was defined as tiny in comparison to him. That I was petite and not weak, but before him I was a willow while he was a giant oak.
“Fuck me,” I whispered desperately, tugging and practically tearing at his clothes, “Oh god fuck me.”