Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
I’d never tire of his cum slipping from my pussy and coating my thighs. It was as if he claimed me, and I never wanted anything more.
“It’s early, but I thought we could hit the gym before you go to work.”
I groaned. “Ugh. We just worked out.”
He laughed and nipped at my chin. “I want to teach you something new today. And we can review what you’ve learned.”
Once a week, we’d made time to go to the gym, where Daniel would teach me self-defense. As much as I didn’t want to pry myself from this bed, I had to admit each lesson left me feeling stronger than the last.
“Come on. We can get there before classes start and have the place to ourselves.”
My mind flashed to Daniel pinning me to the mat and taking me with all the mirrors around. A three-sixty of him moving inside me.
I jumped out of bed and rushed to get ready, his laughter trailing behind me.
We’d grabbed coffee and made it to the gym, which, as promised, was empty. The owner had given Daniel the keys for such occasions.
While I stretched, he removed two big pads from his bag.
“What are those?”
He slid his hands into the loops on the back. “I want to teach you how to fight. You know how to quickly disarm and get away, which is the priority, but should you need it, I want you to know how to throw a punch.
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“Trust me,” he laughed. “It will be good.”
We reviewed the basics I’d learned over the past weeks, and each time I did them, they became easier and easier. He’d promised the more familiar I became with them, the less likely I’d forget them in a moment of panic, so I practiced all the time.
“Okay, good. So, first, let’s talk about how to make a correct fist.”
“Is there a wrong way to make a fist?”
“Sure is. You could end up breaking something if you close your hand wrong.”
“Where did you learn all this?”
“I do kickboxing when I can.”
“Sexy,” I said, waggling my brows.
He winked and showed me how to make a fist. “Thumb outside over the top of your fingers.” He stepped behind me and wrapped his hand over mine, and I tried to focus on what he was doing and not the delicious heat at my back. “You want your hit to focus mostly on the middle knuckles. They’re in the best position to receive impact without breaking anything.”
“You’re not convincing me punching is the best option.”
“It is if you do it right.” He extended my arm and pulled the other in close. “Just like that. Keep this arm close to guard yourself.”
I couldn’t help it, before he pulled away, I pushed back, loving his groan.
He nipped at my neck and growled, “Don’t distract me, woman.”
My smile showed no regrets.
He put the big pads on and stood in front of me, holding them up in front of his face, bracing his feet wide. “Okay. Give me your best shot.”
Not moving my feet, I threw my fist at the mat and barely moved his arm.
He peeked around the black leather with skepticism. “Is that all?”
I scoffed. “I just don’t want to hurt you with all these muscles,” I joked, flexing. In truth, I had packed on some muscles after working with Daniel, and it was nice. But not enough to actually do any damage. Especially to someone as broad and strong as him.
He smiled, and everything stopped. The sun shined through a window, and I swear, it illuminated his face like angels were going to sing any minute. His eyes creased at the corners from years of laughing, and I lost myself a little more.
I loved him so much, and it terrified me.
“Okay,” he said, pulling me back to the moment. The smile slipped, and he winced, opening his mouth a few times like he didn’t know what to say next. “I want…I want you to pretend I’m one of the men who attacked you.”
Like a bucket of cold water, chills broke out across my skin, numbing me to the bone. “What?”
He held up the mitts and got into position. “Pretend I’m someone you hate—someone you’d have no issue punching. Someone you want to punch.”
“Daniel,” I breathed, barely hearing him through the ringing in my ears. My box cracked open, and the past crept out. It wasn’t like I hadn’t pictured their faces—like I hadn’t pictured smashing them into nothing—less than nothing.
My bones grew too big for my body, my muscles ached with tension, vibrating with the need to release. I squeezed my eyes shut. This was why I didn’t open my box. The memories I kept locked in the dark surrounded me, trying to swallow me whole. It was too big. I couldn’t do it—couldn’t face it.
“You’ve talked to your therapist. You’ve mentally handled your past, but you carry around so much hate and anger in that tiny body. Let it out. Use it to your advantage. Learn to control it, and it won’t control you.”