Bent Out of Shape Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Bent Out of Shape

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-799-2

  ©Copyright Bebe Balocca 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2013

  Edited by Sue Meadows

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 32 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 6 pages.

  BENT OUT OF SHAPE

  Bebe Balocca

  Jamie’s going to have to stretch like she’s never stretched before in order to get out of this hot mess.

  Jamie Davis dreams of devoting herself to yoga full-time, but has to work two jobs to pay the bills. She jumps at the chance to teach lessons at Twisted Fork Ranch, lavish home of reclusive tech billionaire Marcus Paul.

  When she arrives, Mr Paul’s assistant, Peter Fletcher, informs her that the first class will be a one-on-one affair. Peter is to report back to his boss with his impressions, so Jamie’s determined to put on her best class ever. Sparks fly in the studio and both Peter and Jamie are feeling the burn, but their hot session ends in flames when guards come knocking.

  Peter’s not everything he’s made himself out to be, however, and soon he and Jamie are on the lam in Twisted Fork. With Dobermans on their trail, they try out some exotic new positions that Jamie never learnt in yoga school.

  The clock’s ticking, though, and even the most fabulously gruelling workout has to come to an end. Jamie just hopes that their cool-down doesn’t involve time behind bars…

  Dedication

  For Megan and Kimberlee, with gratitude.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Academy Awards: Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences

  Vanity Fair: Condé Nast

  StairMaster: StairMaster

  Mack Truck: Mack Trucks, Inc.

  Spandex: DuPont

  Club Cars: Club Car, LLC

  Home Shopping Network: HSN, Inc.

  Honda: Honda Motor Company, Ltd.

  Lemony Snicket: Daniel Handler

  Perrier: Nestlé Corporation

  Jaws: Universal Pictures

  Gulf Stream: Gulfstream Aerospace Corporation

  Chapter One

  Madame Callais’ Daily Prognostication

  Libra September 24 – October 23

  Exciting things are in store today! The stars are perfectly aligned for you. Once-in-a-lifetime opportunities will present themselves. You must act boldly to seize them. In addition to a fortuitous business arrangement, a new romance beckons.

  The key to success in both arenas is to avoid overthinking. The logical side of your brain will try to dissuade you, but hesitating out of fear will cause the opportunities to slip away.

  Trust your inner self, throw caution to the wind, and experience pleasure and success beyond your wildest dreams. Most of all, remain flexible and receptive to the gifts the world has to offer. Be wary of false claims, for deception and danger are ever near, while bearing in mind that even the blackest lie can harbour a nugget of golden truth.

  * * * *

  “Identify yourself.”

  Jamie steadied her nerves and spoke into the intercom. “Jamie Davis. I’m here to give a yoga lesson to members of the staff. I’m expected.”

  “One moment please.”

  She strummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Security, obviously, was of paramount importance at Twisted Fork Ranch. Jamie had spied cameras at regular intervals along the top of the fence as she’d driven up, and she suspected that there were hidden ones as well. The window at the guard’s station was a two way mirror shaded by a deep overhang. She could see nothing inside the small structure, but she knew she was being studied carefully.

  “Identification please.” A drawer in the wall of the guard station slid open. Jamie smiled, determined to appear cheerful and professional as she withdrew her driver’s licence from her wallet and placed it in the drawer. This job was a big deal—huge—and she was bound and determined not to screw it up.

  “One moment please,” the deep voice intoned once more.

  Jamie counted her heartbeats—one, two, three, four, five, six… Whatever he’s doing in there, he’s being pretty fucking thorough.

  At the count of forty-four, the drawer reopened at last. “Thank you, Ms Davis. Please turn right when the drive splits and park in front of the first building you come to. Have a nice day.”

  The automated black gates swung open for her, and Jamie pulled onto the grounds of the estate. The clink she heard as they shut behind her sounded oddly ominous, but she shook off her apprehensions. A permanent gig at Twisted Fork Ranch would be one very big step towards quitting her hideous waitressing job at the Bongo Burger Shack and devoting herself to yoga full-time. This appointment was a dream come true, and scoring this position could truly start her on her way to legitimate success doing what she loved. She’d been thrilled to read her daily horoscope this morning—what if she had wild success in love and in her career? It was almost too much to hope for. Almost. Madame Callais’ horoscopes had never steered her wrong before… Jamie’s heart skipped a beat. Think flexible. Think receptive. I can do this.

  She drove slowly, admiring the rolling lawn and beautiful landscaping. Two rabbits scampered from a bed of purple petunias to a copse of redbud trees and a bluebird fluttered over the driveway. Must be tough being Marcus Paul and living in paradise. When the road split and she veered right, Jamie caught a glimpse of Mr Paul’s famous grotto pool behind his mansion. The huge pool boasted a waterfall, slide, swim-under archway and underwater sound system. I gotta get certified in pool aerobics, Jamie decided. ASAP.

  Today, however, was all about vinyasa flow yoga. The famously reclusive tech billionaire had wanted his staff to be healthy, so he’d tasked his assistant with finding a yoga teacher to lead them through stretching and strengthening exercises. For all Jamie knew, he wanted to take the classes himself, which would be a bit like teaching yoga to Donald Trump and Simon Cowell, only she suspected that Marcus Pau
l was even more of a cranky male diva.

  The man had been schooled by private tutors and educated at prestigious and fiercely private schools in Europe. Even as a teenager he’d been camera-shy, which is why the only public photos of him were a few snapshots from the 1990 Academy Awards. The picture of the shrimpy freckle-faced little boy, wedged in-between Julia Roberts and Meryl Streep at the Vanity Fair Oscars Party, had been cropped and publicised widely, but no one knew what the man looked like today. Probably a ninety-pound nerd in a hipster clothes, Jamie figured, but as long as he writes the checks, he can be as geeky as he wants to be. Marcus Paul, already a wealthy hotel heir, had grown his sizable inheritance to a jaw-dropping fortune by the time he was twenty-two. Who knew that internet dating, coupon sharing and bargain fashion sites could be so lucrative?

  Marcus Paul, that’s who.

  When she’d replied to the online ad for the job, she’d had no idea that it had originated from Twisted Fork Ranch. The position was an opportunity she hadn’t been able to refuse. ‘Private daily yoga classes for a group of no more than ten adults on site in a secure and luxurious environment’ sounded pretty awesome, and it paid twice what she earned for her classes at Village Yoga. Jamie had been delighted and somewhat surprised when she’d been chosen for the job. After all, there were teachers at her studio with many years’ more experience. Ruth Davis had taught yoga for over thirty years and Joshua Martin owned the facility. Both were total pros, and she knew for a fact that they’d applied for the job as well. She’d been even more astonished to learn that she’d be conducting the classes at Marcus Paul’s estate.

  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jamie had happily submitted to a background check and agreed to a strict privacy clause. No photos, no interviews, no media—no problem, Mr Paul. She parked in front of the exercise studio, which was three times as large as her own tiny bungalow, and removed her bag and portable stereo from the car.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Jamie plastered a perky smile on her face and waited. The grounds of the ranch were peaceful, but she caught snatches of a finch’s warble and the rat-a-tat-tat-tat of a woodpecker. Her bag and stereo grew heavy in her arms.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  She placed her things beside her feet, rolled her shoulders and checked her watch. Five after nine. The assistant who’d set up the class, Peter Fletcher, had stressed the importance of punctuality for her arrival, but evidently that wasn’t a reciprocal obligation. Jamie, feeling tension rising in her body, began to bend and stretch to ward off the negativity. “Who cares if my students are late?” she told herself. “I’m being paid for my time.”

  Five minutes later, while thrusting her rear up to the sky in downward dog asana, the door opened at last. “Hey there,” a man said. “I’m Peter Fletcher. Sorry to have kept you waiting. Come in, won’t you?”

  Jamie rose and shook his hand. He was adorably rumpled and unassuming, which somehow increased his hotness level by several degrees. In a fitted T-shirt, knee length athletic shorts and bare feet, he looked like a sweet college athlete who’d been around the block a time or two. Mr Paul must like having a rugged assistant for when he crawls out of his techie hermit cave. No one, even a surly billionaire, could help but feel invigorated with a body like that around. Jamie was glad that she had exertion to blame for her flushed cheeks.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked as she stepped inside. “Is the class cancelled?” Polished hardwood floors stretched in front of a mirrored wall, with a Stairmaster, treadmill and weight machines off to one side and a hallway that led to the rear of the building. The room was clean, modern and utterly empty.

  “Mr Paul wanted me to take the first lesson solo. He asked me to report back to him with my experience before we called in more members of the staff. Hope you don’t mind. Mr Paul is a thorough and cautious employer.” He shrugged and Jamie detected the tiniest bit of an eye roll.

  “Sure, no problem. I’d be happy to conduct a one-on-one lesson with you, Peter.” Jamie unfurled her exercise mat a few feet away from his, then turned on her music and stood with her back to the mirror. “Let’s start with some standing stretches and seated stretches, and then we’ll move on to sun salutations, surya namaskar A and surya namaskar B. Just follow me.” She stood with her feet at shoulder distance apart and inhaled deeply. “Ground down through the four corners of your feet,” she instructed. “Now straighten. Reach up through the crown of your head, hollow out your stomach and draw your belly button to your spine.”

  He was eager, limber and so damn sexy that Jamie wanted to pounce on him and gobble him up. When he faced her in the warrior pose, his pectorals flexed, and she had to look away for fear that he could see her lascivious thoughts written right on her face. Completely inappropriate for a yoga teacher, she admonished herself. And when he shifted into the seated angle pose, with legs splayed, she thought she’d pass out before she could complete the class—which was crazy, really, because she wasn’t some kind of sex-crazed yoga bunny like some of her students. Jamie was mature, grounded—and totally in lust with the man spreadeagled in front of her.

  “That’s good,” she encouraged. “You’re getting a good stretch in. Try to enjoy it, take it slow and relish it. It might be hard now, but…um…” A boner the size of a Mack truck tented the front of his shorts. Jamie looked away, her cheeks aflame.

  He cleared his throat and looked down at his lap. “Uh, yeah, sorry about that. We can stop if you want to.” He chuckled. “It’s just, you know, distracting to be this close—”

  “It’s okay. This happens often in group classes and it’s not a big deal. Yoga is all about being comfortable with your body. And, yeah, I know it’s hard.” She chuckled uncomfortably. “I mean difficult.”

  “No, you meant hard,” he said. “And yes, it is.” He copied Jamie’s moves as she stood and lifted her hands overhead. His erection jutted out and pointed straight at her crotch. “But I can put up with it if you can.”

  I wanna do a lot more than just put up with it, Jamie thought, but I’ve got a job to do, dammit. “Let’s move into the cow pose. On your hands and knees, drop your spine towards the floor and try to make your shoulders touch your lower back. Just relax and breathe.”

  “How’s this?” he asked, breathing hard. “Am I doing it right?”

  Jamie looked at him and her heart pounded. Bent in one of the most traditionally embarrassing positions—at least for novice male yoga students—he was the picture of masculine gorgeousness. The tensed muscles of his ass pointed up to the ceiling, his bunched thighs trembled beneath the fabric of his shorts and his rampant erection now stretched towards the floor. “You look great,” Jamie told him, “but don’t push it. You don’t want to injure yourself.”

  “I want to be good at it,” he grunted. “How could I get hurt doing this anyway? We couldn’t be moving any slower.”

  “You can pull a muscle, no matter how slow we’re going,” she told him. The cords in his neck stood out with his effort. “Now arch your back up to the ceiling for the cat pose. You want to stretch the muscles between each vertebra. Move slowly and carefully. No rushing.”

  Peter glanced at her and Jamie caught a glimmer of humour at the corner of his mouth. He exhaled, deepening the stretch, then yelled abruptly. “Aw, fuck! Dammit!” He dropped to his mat and rolled onto his side. “Ow!” His face contorted in pain and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Oh, no, I’m so sorry.” Jamie knelt next to him. “Where does it hurt, Peter?” Great, just great, she thought bitterly. The dude sent to evaluate my class has gotten hurt under my watch. There go my swim aerobics classes in Marcus Paul’s grotto pool.

  He flopped onto his back, stiffened cock still at attention, and gestured to his abdomen. “Around my lower stomach or hip,” he mumbled. “Somewhere down there.”

  Jamie placed a tentative hand on the waistband of his shorts. “Here?” she asked. “It’s unusual to pull an abdominal muscle during the cat pose.”<
br />
  “Hmm, lower,” he answered, wincing.

  She slid her fingertips towards his hip bone, carefully avoiding his erection.

  “More in the middle, Jamie. I think some gentle pressure would help.”

  Jamie swallowed and rubbed light circles on his belly. The back of her hand brushed his shaft and she caught her breath.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is becoming unprofessional and I probably should—”

  He caught her wrist and placed her hand on top of his cock. “Please don’t stop.” He grinned. “It was just getting good.”

  “Oh,” Jamie breathed. She wrapped her hand around his shaft. Good lord, it is thick.

  He covered her hand with his own and moved it up and down his length. “I feel better already.”

  Chapter Two

  “You didn’t pull a muscle,” she stated.

  “Who said anything about a pulled muscle? I’m so damn hard that if I don’t get some attention from you I’m going to have to excuse myself and go jerk off. I could solve this problem on my own, but it sure would be more fun to have some help.” He tightened his hand over hers and slid it faster. “Your choice, Jamie.”

  “What about—?”

  “Mr Paul? He’s away on a trip right now, and nobody’s going to bother us in here.” He pushed her hand beneath his shorts and underwear. “C’mon, Jamie, touch it.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the door. “This job would really mean a lot to me, Peter. I don’t want to mess anything up by, you know, messing around. It would have to be a black mark on my application to get caught with my pants down by another staff member, don’t you think?” If only he wasn’t so damn tempting and persuasive.

  “You’ve got it in the bag, don’t worry. I’ll tell Mr Paul that you’re fabulous. And there’s no way anyone would interrupt us in here, either.”

  Jamie suppressed a girlish squeal of glee. Do I really have the job? Yesss!

  She felt prickles of excitement run from her cheeks to her chest then to her belly. Is this what Madame Callais had in mind? Don’t overthink, don’t hesitate, be open to the gifts the world has to offer. His shaft was silky-smooth and hard as steel. It’s a pretty tempting gift, and I’d be silly to reject it, wouldn’t I? He was decidedly not in the mood for yoga right now, so attempting to teach him would clearly be a waste of time anyway, she rationalised. She let his cock slide through her fist and watched as he exhaled slowly and let his eyes fall closed.