Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
He mimes throwing strikes down at me, but even demonstrating, he looks guilty about it.
I do as he says: press my palms against him. I push up, hard one way, then the other. He falls forward and catches himself with his hands.
“Good,” he says proudly. “See? Now I have to catch myself.”
“And this is where I go for your eyes, your balls, whatever I have to?”
“There are escapes I can teach you, specific techniques. But as a basic rule, if you know nothing else, yes. That’s your best shot. To get good at technical escapes takes time. But if you blind him, bite him, seriously maim him, then you have a chance to get free.”
He’s talking about dark things, which should, in theory, diffuse any of the excitement bubbling up in me. But it does the opposite. It makes me feel powerful, like I’ve got a shot if Lucian ever returns.
“Can I try again?” I ask.
“Sure.”
He sits up and does some more moves. This time, when I push against him, he balances, riding me like a bull. Nerves tingle over me as I imagine him using these strong hips for something else.
“Now what?” I huff.
“Most likely, some random scumbag won’t be able to balance like this,” he says. “If they do, though, give them a hard knee to the back—”
He laughs, just about catching himself before he face plants from the knee I just drove into him.
“Sorry,” I say, laughing.
“No, it’s good,” he says fiercely, his breath whispering against my ear. All it would take is for me to turn my head, and then we’d be kissing.
“Uh, is there anything else I should know?” I ask.
I think he senses my discomfort—no, not that. Confusion. The conflict in my head and my body.
He stands, then offers me his hand. That same electric buzzing hums between us as he hauls me to my feet as if I weigh nothing.
“There’s full guard too,” he says. “They won’t always end up on top of you in that way. But we don’t have to cover that today.”
“Why not?” I say defensively.
He clenches his jaw, looks into my eyes with tension tightening his mouth, like he’s fighting with everything he has not to slide his gaze down my body.
“Well… we can,” he says. “If you’re up to it.”
“Do I need to lie down again?” I ask a little breathlessly.
“Uh, yeah,” he groans, like he’s fighting a thousand instincts, none of them civilized.
I lie on the mat again. This time, he kneels in front of me.
“Sometimes, they’ll end up below your hips. In that case, you can wrap your legs around them. That’s called guard.”
I swallow. “Okay…”
He shifts closer. I open my legs, far too aware of the sensation of my underwear rubbing against my sex. When I close my legs around him, I stare up, heart thundering in my ears.
“What does this do?” I ask.
“It gives you some control over my posture,” he says. “Tilt your hips one way, drive with your legs, and you can topple me.”
I try it, and he falls to the side.
“Good,” he says. “Very good. You can use your hips to keep me away, where it’s hard for me to hit you. Or very close, where it’s difficult for me to generate any power.”
“Like this?”
I tug him into me, lifting my knees. He falls forward. His groin pushes right up against me. I gasp, then whisper, “I think I get it.”
He stands quickly, like he’s afraid of how his body will respond if he gets too close.
“I… I need a glass of water,” I murmur.
“Sure. There’s a cooler just over there.” He turns.
“I can get my own water,” I say, standing quickly.
As I turn my back to him, I catch him looking at me in the mirror. His hands twitching, his eyes wide and tense as they follow me go. Power rushes through me at the realization that I turn him on. I’ve never felt this wanted before. And even if I had, I wouldn’t experience this thrill, this intoxicating control. It’s like he can’t look away.
So, yeah, I let myself go a little. As I lean down towards the water cooler, I arch my back, showing him my ass. I’ve never been proud of my body, never been overly ashamed either. It’s just been… there, mine, an unquestioned fact.
Now, pride blazes in me. In the mirror, he stares hungrily at my ass. His jaw is clenched tight as if he’s trying to fight the urge. Of course, he is. He’s a good guy, doesn’t want to be inappropriate. Maybe it’s the age gap, or the context.
He doesn’t want to ogle his student.
But I want him to. I love it.
His eyes move to my face, realizing I’m watching him. He sees the smile curving my lips, notes the fact that I don’t immediately stand. Instead, I remain bent over, coaxing more desire out of him.