A swift kick lands on my side, the soft flesh beneath my ribs stinging from the impact. "Good job, keep going."
She tries a few more kicks here and there, most of them landing. But the punches still aren't quite fast enough, like she doesn't really mean it yet. After another missed blow, I shove both her shoulders, sending her stumbling backward with a shocked and pissed look on her face.
I wiggle my fingers for her to come back and try again. Her face reddens, and she launches herself forward, effort reigniting as she aims a hard blow to my stomach. I move to dodge it, only to come perfectly in contact with her other fist against my nose. The hit startles me for a second, but I shake it off with a smile.
I didn't think I could ever get a hard-on from being punched, but there's a first time for everything.
Isla's victorious grin makes me smile brighter, too. "That was a good hit. Let's see if you can land any more."
She shakes out her shoulders, contemplating her next move. I can feel a small trickle of black blood falling down from my nose, but I ignore it. It'll stop before too long, and I want to focus on this moment of Isla's hunter instincts, the way they make her seem so much more vibrant than when she's pretending they don't exist.
Now that I know her strategy will be to distract with one punch and land with another, sparring becomes a constant back and forth. She throws two hits, or one hit and a rapid kick, and I slap her hands and feet away, both of us moving faster and faster, falling into a rhythm that feels more like a dance than a fight.
Nothing but the sounds of impact and our panting breaths surround us, no need for any words right now. She's so in the zone I would hate to break her concentration or her stride. We can discuss minor tweaks in technique later. Right now, she needs to get this out of her system, sheneedsto hit me as hard as she can a couple times.
I definitely should have seen the hit coming, but she broke the rhythm, her first punch landing hard and fast instead of the lobbing she's been luring me into. The blow hits me across the jaw, definitely the hardest anyone has ever managed to hit me.
Reflexes are a hell of a thing, and mine have Isla pinned to the floor before either of us can even think. All the air whooshes outof her lungs, the full weight of my body on top of hers, pinning her to the floor as she stares at me with wide eyes.
Realizing what I've done, I quickly apologize, "Sorry. Didn't mean to. Just… instincts."
"It's all good," she nods, eyes still trained on mine. "Are you gonna… move?"
Now that I've got her beneath me, I honestly don't think I will. She's so gorgeous right now. Always, if I'm being honest. But this is my favorite version of her so far. Red-faced with exertion, sweaty, flat on her back.
"Can you fight me off like this?" I ask.
She shakes her head, "Hell no."
"Try."
Her version of trying consists of her just wiggling, trying feebly to push at my chest. Mostly all she's managed to do is rub her body against mine and make my dick even harder. She writhes, trying to scoot out from under me, and I look down to watch her face fill with frustration.
Part of me wants to laugh, but her being unable to escape this when I'm not even trying is actually a concern. I need to ignore the throbbing in my pants and teach her how to get out of this.
"Okay, stop." I can't let her rub against me any longer, or I'm going to embarrass myself. I gently tap her left foot. "This is your weaker leg, so use this one to trap my ankle— yeah, just like that, good girl." She ignores the praise, but the blush across her face proves she's definitely not immune to it.Something to explore later."Now plant your other leg on the floor, knee up, and use all your strength to lift and roll us."
I don't try super hard to keep her pinned, letting her twist us on the floor until she's on top of me and able to stand.
But she doesn't.
She stays there on top of me, not quite straddling me, but a very intimate position nonetheless. Her eyes drift to my lips, andI swear to fuck, if she kisses me right now, I won't have it in me to stop her.
Every time we kiss, the madness inside my chest burns hotter. Neither of the steamy moments we've shared have been nice or intimate, but they've been so fucking good it's making my brain short-circuit. I'm trying to break her, and yet, it seems the opposite keeps happening.
My hands land on her hips, hoping that small gesture makes it clear that I'll take this wherever the fuck she wants to. If she wants me, there's no way I could stop myself from giving her the best fuck she'll ever have, even to my own detriment.
I don't like her at all, and I know it would be a mistake, but Jesus Christ, I crave her. So wholly that every other thought empties when I think of the sounds she makes when she comes or how wet and hot she was around my fingers, clenching around them and riding out her orgasm.
Her eyes light up with mischief for a second, and I plead to all the gods that she'll rub her pussy against me so I can make good on my promise to stuff it full.
Instead, she stands, slow and languid, knowing I'm going to watch every single inch of her body as she raises up to her full height. She looks down on me like a queen surveying her lowly subject, gazing down her nose at me where I'm still lying on the floor like a dumb ass waiting for her to come back down.
"Are we done here?" she asks, looking at her watch.
A hot and slimy feeling builds in my chest, "What, you got somewhere to be?"
"I have work, remember?" The words are punctuated with little taps of her foot on the ground.
