“More than enough time,” he answers, intertwining my fingers with his. He pulls me over to the octagon and I step in nervously.
“Don’t make this awkward. I’m not a sporty person, Beast. Be kind.”
He chuckles, taking the sparring pads out of his bag. “Have you ever thrown a punch?”
“What? You mean aside from hitting the club girl? No, I haven’t.”
His head swings back with a laugh and my arms cross in front of me. “What’s so funny?”
“Nah, nothing. I just forgot about that,” he answers, walking to me, running the back of his hand across my bare stomach and my muscle’s tense at his touch. “I think there’s a hidden bad girl under all that good.” His smirk deepens.
My cheeks flush. “No. I don’t think so. I just don’t like people I love getting hurt.”
He nods his head, stepping back and pulling the sparring pads onto his hands. “Start with your right hook,” he begins, bringing his hands up.
An hour later, and we’ve covered the basic grounds of MMA. I’m lying spread out on the padded ground of the octagon, trying to catch my breath with sweat trickling down my body and landing in a puddle on the floor when he laughs.
“Come on, baby. We’ll hydrate, then head outside to get onto those arrows.”
“I’m tired,” I sulk, pouting.
He kneels down between my legs and I quickly bring them up only for him to snap them open.
“Beast!” I scorn. “I feel exposed like this.”
“I like you exposed.”
I smile, biting down on my lip. He brings his head down to my knee, running his nose down my leg slowly, trailing little kisses across my sweaty skin. My chest rises and falls, my heart rate picking up again. “Beast?”
“Shhh...” He props himself up on his fists, kissing down my inner thigh. I prop myself up on my elbows, bringing my eyes down to his. He peers up at me under his eyelashes with a smirk. I tilt my head, running my eyes over him. Shit, he’s sexy. He’s like a God, carved from stone with a boyish smile and chiseled cheekbones. He’s perfect. His shoulders and arms bulge out under the pressure he’s putting them on. His sweat glistening off his tanned, muscled body and my clit pulses, demanding attention.
I can’t get enough of him.
It’s a problem.
Slowly, he brings his face down to my crotch and I close my eyes, masked in the mixed feelings that are pushing through me right now. His hair scratches on my inner thighs, the rough kisses he lands hitting right over my clit. I begin begging for more, wanting skin to skin. My hips slowly rocking into him when a low growl slips out from his mouth. Wrapping his fingers around the waistband of my spandex shorts, he rips them down roughly and I lift my body up higher to give him easier access.
“Beast, what if—” I throw my head back arching my back into him as his hot mouth covers me, feasting on me like a starved animal. Low grunts escape his mouth and I push myself into his mouth more. Wrapping my thighs around his head, I flip him over—or more, he lets me flip him over—onto his back so I’m straddling his face. His speed picks up and my hips follow his moves, matching his pace. It’s not much longer until my stomach clenches and my orgasm ripples through me, making me weak in my legs. After riding it out, I lift myself slightly up, bringing my body down his rock hard torso and gliding over his equally hard cock. Bringing my hand back, I pull his pants down and guide myself over him, slowly lowering and allowing my body to expand and accommodate his massive size.
Crossing my eyes, I run them over his body and up to his face. He groans again, tipping his head back and resting his hands on my hips.
“Baby, I love how you take charge and all, but I’m going to need to deal with you real good right now.”
I chuckle, running my tongue over my bottom lip before biting down on my lip. Once my body’s let him in, I bring myself up before pulling myself down again. Having sex with Beast is now my top priority.
Rolling off him, I huff out before giggling out loud. “Okay, I think I can’t feel my legs.”
Bringing himself up, he pulls his shorts up, tying the drawstring up before taking my hand and hauling me to my feet. Wrapping his tight arm around my waist, he pulls me into him, dropping his face and running his nose along mine. “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispers, searching my eyes nervously.
“I already told you I was,” I answer, wrapping my hands around his arms that are so huge, my tiny hands look like miniature kitten claws against a lion.
He shakes his head, squeezing me again. “Be my Old Lady,” he answers, his voice hoarse and his breath fogging against my now cooled down skin. A shiver slices through my body as goose bumps break out across my skin.