Matteo
The ride into town is just what I need to keep my head from spiraling. Azra holds on to me the entire way, her arms tightly wrapped around my waist, and her cheek pressed against my shoulder blade. I shouldn’t like how well her body fits against mine, but I do. More than I should.
When I pull up outside a gym, Azra’s head pops off my back, and she glances around, confused.
“You brought me to a gymnasium?”
I kill the engine and throw down the kickstand on my bike. “Yeah.”
I’ve never brought anyone here.
Hold on. That’s a lie. I’ve brought plenty of women here. But not on the back of my bike or to personally teach.
After storing her helmet on my bike’s seat, I open the single glass door and gesture for Azra to enter first. The gym is quiet at this hour.
A few women stretch near the dressing rooms, and a couple of trainers prep equipment.
These walls, unlike those at the gym at home, feature posters about boundaries, empowerment, and trauma recovery.
I can see the questions brewing in Azra’s head, but I don’t tell her what this place is really about. It’s unnecessary for her to know that the women here have survived things that make my world look tame, and that I fund this place because I’ve seen too many women broken by men exactly like me.
She also doesn’t need to know that I’m terrified she’ll end up as one of them.
I head to the front desk and request a workout set in Azra’s size. She gasps, surprised I didn’t need to ask her size to get it right. I know it because I studied every inch of her curves last night, both in reality and in my dreams.
When I hand her the two-piece gym attire, she blinks. “How did you—?”
“Get changed,” I interrupt, not wanting to open that can of worms just yet. “Then meet me on the mats.”
She stares at me as if I’m a magician performing a trick, then vanishes into the changing room. While she’s gone, I remove my shirt and stretch out my shoulders to loosen the tension that has coiled there since last night.
I didn’t sleep. Could you blame me? The girl from my cock’s dreams was lying semi-naked next to me, moaning my name in her sleep.
Realizing how close I came to crossing a line I can’t uncross will keep me awake for days to come. I want to believe I’d never step out of line with Azra like that, but don’t ask me to swear on my mother’s grave. This woman makes me so reckless I’m having a hard time recognizing myself.
She makes me want to be someone I said I’d never be.
Someone who wants too much.
When Azra exits the changing room a few minutes later, every head turns. Not because she’s beautiful—though she is—but because she walks like she doesn’t belong here.
She’s already fought the world and won.
I will act like I don’t know that, though. The snug fit of her workout gear ensures I’m not thinking with the head between my shoulders right now.
Azra receives as many admiring looks as I do, maybe even more, but she doesn’t notice them. All she sees is a gym full of admiring women and how half their hungry stares focus on me.
The workout mats cushion her stomps when she joins me on them. “If I find out you’ve done anything… nasty on these mats, I won’t be responsible for the severe injuries you’ll sustain.”
I suppress a grin.
I could tell her the truth. I’ve never trained with anyone here, touched anyone, or crossed a line in this space. But her jealousy is as tempting as how well her tits fill her workout crop top. So instead, I hit her with a frisky wink.
Her fury is fast and resolute. Her eyes narrow into tiny slits as her nostrils flare.
Just as fast, I palm my cock, silently warning him to calm down. I had no inkling I could feed off jealousy as much as I could carnage until now.
“Ready?” I ask, smirking like the smug prick I am.
Jealousy burns through Azra as she replies, “More than you.”
I show her the first move—a simple escape from a wrist grab. “When someone grabs your wrist, you want to—”
Before I finish my explanation, she twirls on the spot, rams her ass into my crotch, grips my offending arm with two hands, then flips me over her shoulder.
I hit the mat face-first as if I weigh nothing.
Lucky. If I hadn’t landed on my face, I may have broken my cock.
That’s how hard her ass-whipping makes me.
The room goes silent. Then someone claps.
I push myself up on my elbows, stunned. “Where the hell did you learn that?”
With her knee in my back, flattening me back against the mat, Azra brushes her lips against my ear. “I have four older brothers. There’s no move you can put on me that I can’t overcome, Ruso.”
Ruso?
A smidge of hesitation flickers across her face when she spots my confusion. Stumbling back, she stutters out an excuse for the change-up.
“Definitely not a Matt,” I agree. “But Nico is the only one who calls me Teo, so if you want to call me that too, I don’t mind.”
She contemplates for half a second, her chest thrusting. “Does Ruso bother you?”
“Not at all,” I instantly answer, loving that she wants something solely for herself.
Her smile. Fuck. Me.
Shoot me now, Cupid. Your man is done fighting.
“Then I’ll stick with Ruso.”
I bite my lower lip to hide my smile. “All right.”
After shaking off both my shock and eagerness, I try again to catch her in a compromising position.
And again.
And again.
Every time she escapes my grasp before she sends me crashing to the mat.
The women around us cheer when she sits across my chest after my tenth failed attempt. She plants her knees wide for balance and pins my hands above my head.
While beaming as if she’s won a taekwondo championship, Azra’s smile is bright and victorious.
I can’t even get annoyed that she’s handing me my ass on a platter.
I’m too impressed.
Won’t stop me from switching tactics, though.
“Okay.” I peer up at her flushed cheeks and dilated eyes. “Now what?”
The vein in her neck works overtime. “What do you mean? I’ve got you pinned.”
“Yeah… but you still need to get away. You can’t escape and keep me pinned at the same time.”
As defiance flares through her eyes, she flops her head to the side. “Wanna bet?”
When she tries to dismount me, I counter. Except this time, I pull her back so her knees hug my thighs instead of my chest.
Despite the tremor of excitement shaking her limbs, she throws her palm into my nose, stinging my eyes with moisture, before she tries to clamber off me.
Again, I counter her move.
Every time she tries to escape, I keep her exactly where she should be—heating my dick with her deliciously fragrant cunt. I’m not endeavoring to show her I’m naturally stronger. I’m trying to do the opposite.
After a sixth unsuccessful attempt to get away from me, Azra huffs, frustrated. “You’re cheating. This isn’t fair.”
“How?” I ask, laughing at the absurdity in her tone. “This is reality.”
Her eyes flash with anger, and for a moment, I want to forget why we’re here.
I can’t, though, because the truth is dangerous. I don’t trust myself to walk away next time. Not with how she looks at me like she knows I’ll never hurt her.
She needs to know how to defend herself—from me more than anyone.
“Try again.”
“It’s pointless.”
“Try. Again.”
She snarls, hating that I’m barking at her before she tries to loosen my grip.
When I counter, she tries to roll us over so she can use gravity to her advantage.
I hold her where I want her by shifting all my weight to my hips.
Grunting, she fights to slip her knee through my monkey grip.
I trap it.
Every failed maneuver increases her frustration.
“Why can’t I get out of this?” Her angry snarl echoes off the quiet gym’s walls. We’re not alone. Our performance enraptures the audience, preventing them from continuing their workout routines.
“Because you’re thinking with this.” I tap her heart. Rolling my hips upward, I shift her breathless pant to a husky moan. “And this.” This time, I tap her temple. “Not with this.”
Her brows knit, but she doesn’t deny my claim.
“Take emotions out of it. I’m not me right now. I’m not your… whatever the fuck I am to you. I’m a threat.”
“Matteo—”
“No,” I snap out. “I’m not Matteo. I am not your friend. I’m someone who wants to hurt you, and I won’t stop until I’ve broken you.” Her cheeks twitch when I say one name I hope like fuck will cut through every hesitation she has. “I’m Antonio.”
Quicker than the flick of a switch, her composure changes. Her muscles coil, and her breathing sharpens as her eyes go cold with hate.
Then she moves. Fast.
As she did earlier, she leaps to her feet, but this time, when I pull her down by wrapping my legs around her thighs and shifting my weight to my hips, she drives her knee down hard—right into my groin. My erect groin.
Pain explodes through me, white-hot and blinding, as my hold breaks.
While sucking in a big breath, I roll to my side and fight not to curse loud enough for my foul language to echo off the walls of my family’s mansion miles away.