Hackney Honey | NEON LIT

The Hackney gym was empty at 9 PM, just as Simone had promised. "Meet me after close," her text had said. "Time for your real training to begin."

Tyrone had been her client for three months, watching her bounce around the gym in those tight leggings that showed every curve of her magnificent body. Simone was thirty-five, Ghanaian-British, with legs that could crack walnuts and an arse that made her leggings look like they were praying for mercy.

She was also his best friend's older sister. Which made this whole thing very, very complicated.

"You came." She was waiting by the squat rack, wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts that barely qualified as clothing. Her dark skin glistened under the gym lights.

"Your text was... interesting," Tyrone said carefully.

"Mmm." She walked toward him, all confidence and curves. "Three months I've been training you, Tyrone. Watching you lift. Watching you sweat. Watching the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

"Simone, I wasn't—"

"Don't lie to me." She was in front of him now, close enough that he could smell her—coconut oil and something musky. "You think I don't feel your eyes on my batty every time I demonstrate an exercise?"

She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Here's the thing. I've been looking back. These arms..." She squeezed his biceps. "This chest..." Her hands traveled down. "And whatever you're hiding in these joggers."

Her hand found him, already hardening from her touch. Her eyebrows rose.

"Just as I suspected. You've been holding out on me."

"Simone, what about Marcus? If he knew I was—"

"Marcus doesn't control who I sleep with." She started pulling at his shirt. "Now, are you going to keep making excuses, or are you going to show me what that gym body can really do?"

She pulled him toward the workout mats in the corner, stripping off her sports bra as she walked. Her breasts were full and perfect, bouncing with each step. She lay back on the mats, spreading her thick thighs in invitation.

"Come on, then. Let's see how good your stamina really is."

Tyrone stopped thinking about consequences. He knelt between her legs, pulling down those tiny shorts to reveal everything. She was already wet, glistening in the gym's harsh lights.

"Been thinking about this all day," she admitted, her voice breathy. "Could barely focus on my clients."

He tasted her, and she arched off the mat, her thick thighs clamping around his head.

"Yes! Fuck, yes!"

She demanded more, and he gave it to her. Right there on the gym floor, with the mirrors reflecting everything, they went at it like they were trying to break personal records.

Simone wrapped those powerful legs around him, pulling him deeper with every thrust. "Harder! Don't go easy on me!"

She flipped them over, riding him with the same intensity she brought to her spin classes. Her athletic body moved like a machine, her thick backside slapping against his thighs with every bounce.

"This—this is what I needed," she panted. "A man who can keep up."

They moved from the mats to the weight bench, where she bent over and demanded he take her from behind. The bench creaked ominously as he gripped her hips, watching her massive arse bounce with every stroke.

"Don't stop! Don't you dare stop!"

She came with a scream that probably set off car alarms in the parking lot. Then she dropped to her knees and finished him with her mouth, looking up at him with those dark eyes until he couldn't hold back anymore.

Later, they lay tangled on the mats, sweaty and satisfied.

"So," Simone said, tracing circles on his chest, "same time tomorrow?"

"What about your brother?"

She laughed. "What Marcus doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides..." She climbed on top of him, already stirring him back to life. "We haven't even started on the advanced training yet."

"Advanced?"

Her smile was wicked. "Baby, tonight was just the warm-up."

Tyrone had a feeling his gym membership was about to get a lot more valuable.