“Like this?” She shifts, ass grinding harder against my cock, deliberate, and I bite back a groan, heat coiling low.
Jesus Christ.
“Fucking harder,” I say, voice rough, grip tightening on her waist. “Don’t hold back, Mary.”
She drives her elbow back, real force now, the impact vibrating through us. Her curves press deeper, and I’m losing it, her scent drowning me.
Blyat, focus.
“Better,” I say, fingers flexing, wanting to rip those leggings off. “Now stomp. Find my instep and break it.”
She shifts, raising her heel, arching her body, lush hips rubbing me raw. “Here?” Her heel hovers over my boot.
“Do it.”
She slams her heel down hard, making me grunt. Her sound—half triumph, half thrill—nearly snaps my control.
She spins in my arms, hands slamming my chest, our bodies flush, her lips parted, breath hot. “I hurt you!”
“You’re supposed to,” I say, hands sliding to her hips, digging in, making her gasp. “That’s the whole point.”
Her tongue darts across her bottom lip. “What if they grab me from the front?”
I should step back. Instead, I grip her hips more firmly, fingers digging in just enough to make her breath hitch.
Lev laughs from the wall, knife sheath glinting. “Shit, boss, you training her or seducing her?”
Mary’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t back off, eyes locked on mine.
“Shut it, Lev,” she snaps, bold, like she owns this mat.
Boris snorts from his bench, muttering, “She’s got claws now,” his tablet forgotten.
Dima, by the door, tilts his head, watching, a rare smirk tugging his lips, like he sees her fire.
“Show me,” I say, voice dark, pulling her closer. She presses her palms to my throat, thumbs on my pulse, and I feel it—her strength, her fight, changing me, softening me.
“Now what?” she whispers, breath hot against my jaw.
“Knee his balls, watch him drop,” I say, but we’re frozen, her hands on my throat, my fingers digging into her flesh, the air thick with want. I want to pin her down, taste her, but I hold still, barely.
“Leave ‘em alone, Lev,” Boris calls, smirking. “They’re about to wrestle naked.”
The door slams shut. Their footsteps fade, echoing down the hall. They’ve walked out. Left us here. Just the two of us, the silence heavier than the stink of sweat and mats.
Mary grins boldly, and flips the script, shoving me back, her strength surprising, dropping me to the mat.
“Again,” she says, voice daring, straddling my hips, her curves pressing my cock, making me groan. “Show me more.”
I growl, the sound ripping out before I can stop it. My hands grasp her thighs, instinct screaming to flip her, pin her under me, remind her this is my game.
But fuck, it’s hard to think with my cock straining, her lush hips grinding against me, her blouse—half-unbuttoned from the grapple—gaping open, revealing sweat-slicked skin, her lush breasts heaving under a thin bra.
“You’re killing me,malyshka,” I hiss, trying to focus, but her scent’s in my lungs, her curves in my hands, and my head’s losing the fight. She looks up at me, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks, eyes sparking.
“What’s wrong, bad boy?” she teases, voice low, playful. “Can’t handle me?” Her blouse slips wider, sweat glistening between her breasts, and I’m done, my cock aching, every thought blurring.
I lean in, close the gap, and kiss her, slow, sensual, lips brushing hers, soft at first, then harder, tongue sliding against hers,tasting her heat, her breath mixing with mine in a slick, hungry dance.
