“Down boy,” I murmur. “I think I may be a better observer. I can point out different ways of doing things, but I’m too aggressive for a beginner class.”
“That’s fair,” Dario says. “Playing dirty isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Rosalia. Nico is one of the dirtiest fighters I know.”
No one tells me I’m a freak or shows an inordinate amount of sympathy, which is a godsend. I need them to know how bad certain things were so I don’t become a problem. I can’t be the weak link here, and past trauma has a way of leaking out onto others.
“Pablo, want to have a go?” Ciro asks, grinning.
“Are you going to teach me a thing or two, or is your dick going to be hard the whole time?” he asks.
“I promise to pin you to the mat every chance I get.”
“Dario, how are you at sparring?” I ask him.
“I’m passable. Verona, I already know you have claws. Now, I want to show you what to do with them,” he says, getting to his feet.
“It looks like you’re not pinning anyone to the mat with your cock,mio caro marito,” I murmur, moving toward the back wall.
“Ugh, you’re no fun, Rosa.”
“This is about staying alive,” I remind him, getting comfortable on the ground. “Not fun.”
I watch as Dario begins to explain to Verona how to keep from being pinned down. “It’s more difficult to get a man twice your size off you once you’re on the ground. Not impossible, but do whatever you can to keep it from happening.”
Dario and Verona haven’t had much one on one time, and I curl my legs underneath me as I watch them. He’s patient as he advances on her, while Verona squeaks as she moves back.
“Only retreat until you have to strike back,” I call out to her. “Go for the squishy bits.”
“I’m not squishy!” Dario yells, just as Verona strikes. She kicks at his thigh, her heel hitting him hard as he grunts. They’re sparring without shoes, and I smirk as he hunches over and she punches him in the face, pulling on his hair to keep him in place.
This is why I pulled my hair back.He has all of that floppy, brunette hair. It’s perfect for yanking on. Too bad he didn’t think of that.
She doesn’t pull back on the power behind her punch either, though he grabs her face before he sweeps her legs out from under her. While Verona’s gasp is adorable, it gives Dario the chance to pin her to the mat.
She never once let go of his damn hair, so he was going down either way.
“Now,” he growls softly. “Show me how you're going to get out of this. It’s not going to be from bucking me off, Princess, so don’t try. Fuck. I suppose, spitting in my face is a choice.”
Covering my mouth with my hand, I watch as Verona’s spit slides off Dario’s face.
“Pull your pinned ankles out from underneath him,” Nico drawls. “Fucking wildcat, I swear. Now I know why Dario says she has claws.”
“Come on, baby,” I gasp, trying to swallow back my laughter. “Flip the arrogant prick.”
“You really don’t play well with others,” my husband mutters, dragging my body over and depositing me between his legs.
“I was fine where I was,” I complain.
“You’re too far. Be a good wife and give me this.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn my attention to Pablo where he’s holding his own against Ciro. As they move, Ciro teasingly explains why something is a mistake, which allows Pablo to counter move. Dropping my head against Nico’s chest since he’s not going to let me move anywhere unless I throw a fit I’m too tired to have, I watch the four people in front of me spar.
Slowly, I begin to breathe in scents I don’t typically smell. The alpha blocker is firmly under my nose, but Savannah is hot, which means I’ve been sweating.
Could that be an issue? Did I sweat off the damn lotion?
Shifting my legs so my knees are bent, I squeeze my thighs together as I try to figure out what I’m experiencing.
Are the blockers failing? Fuck.
