Chapter 9 Nico #2
I haven’t really thought about how sex workers might view men and women. I guess I assumed they would look down on men for having to pay a woman for her company. And it makes sense that they would assume men would think of themselves as superior, simply because of the stereotypes about sex workers.
Leaning back against the couch with a heavy exhale, she says, “I can’t even picture it.”
I only hesitate for a moment before asking, “Want me to show you?”
Her mouth twists with a smirk. “What, do you have videos of women beating you? I figured you liked being told what to do, but I wouldn’t have guessed a masochism kink.”
A flash of heat runs through my body, and before I can stop it, I nearly growl. “I might argue that giving you the power to put your soaked thong in my mouth makes me the opposite of a masochist.”
All amusement drops from her expression, and I watch her pulse pick up speed in her neck.
But before she can make this sexual—that’s not what I’m trying to accomplish with her—I stand from the couch and extend a hand.
“I meant I can show you how to kick my ass.”
She looks at my hand, clearly wanting to take it, but first she says, “Starting to sound like a masochism kink, Nico.”
I throw my head back with a laugh. “Just take my hand, Red.”
I pull her to her feet, but I’m too forceful about it. She braces her hands against my chest, our bodies plastered against each other. She’s close. Too close.
I hear the breath she sucks in, can feel the way it hits her chest. She might have a no-kissing rule, but her body is telling me she’s at least thinking about it right now.
After a moment, she pushes off my chest and forces her gaze to mine. “So…how are you going to show me this butt-kicking?”
My lip twitches. “Butt-kicking? Do you not curse?”
She shakes her head as she smooths down her dress. “No. Cursing is unladylike.”
Her answer is instant and monotone. It almost sounds like she’s repeating it. And I find it as interesting as I do disturbing.
“If cursing is unladylike, then what is fighting?” I try to sound playful.
“I…” Her brow furrows, her mind clearly flying a mile a minute. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just…a personal preference…”
“Baby, I don’t think you could offend me if you tried.
I—” I drag a hand down my face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you.
You just surprised me, that’s all.” I glance toward the open space in the suite, suddenly second-guessing my idea.
“I wanted to show you a jiu-jitsu move, but if it makes you uncomfortable, then we can forget it. I don’t want—”
“I want to try,” she blurts out.
I think we’re both surprised by the eager answer.
“I mean, if you want to show me, then I’d love to learn,” she tacks on, backtracking. But I can see through the lie. She’s trying to hide her interest by making it about me.
I’ll let her hide. For now.
“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her to the open area. “I’ll warn you that it’s going to seem a little weird in the beginning, but once you get it, it’s really cool.”
“That’s not terrifying,” she mutters sarcastically.
I turn to face her, chuckling. “Also, a dress is going to feel like an odd outfit choice for this.”
“If I had known I was dressing for a fight, I would’ve made slightly different clothing choices.”
Curious, I ask, “What’s your everyday clothing choice?” I’m suddenly dying to know if she’s a jeans and tank top kind of girl, or if she’s always dressed like she’s headed for the runway.
But for some reason, she clams up at that before joking, “What do you mean? I’m always dressed in cocktail attire.”
I decide to move past the question. “Regardless, cocktail attire wouldn’t be my go-to for this activity.
But we’re just going to ignore that. Can you—” I feel my face heat with a blush, realizing for the first time how weird this request is going to sound outside of the MMA gym.
“Can you lay down? I need to be on top of you.”
She tries to hide her smile but fails. “I thought that came later. But okay.” Moving gracefully, she lowers herself to the carpeted floor and lies flat on her back. “This doesn’t feel conducive to self-defense, Nico.”
“I told you it was going to feel weird at first,” I grumble, questioning this decision as I lower to my knees beside her. Especially when I have to clear my throat and gesture toward her legs. “I…uh, I need to kneel between your legs.”
She props herself up on her elbows and raises an eyebrow. “This is sounding more and more like foreplay…”
“Yeah, all of a sudden, I kind of understand why keyboard warriors call me gay when I do this with men,” I mutter.
She chuckles, the sound easing some of my tension. But then she spreads her legs, her dress inching way too far up on her thighs with the movement. And all that tension returns.
I refuse to look down. That’s not what this is about. This wasn’t a ploy to fuck her, and I need her to understand that. So I keep my focus trained strategically on her neck as I shuffle between her legs, then lean over her and plant my hands beside her ears.
“Now what?” she asks, but she sounds slightly more breathless than before. Thank God, I’m not the only one affected.
“Now you—” I clear my throat and try to get my shit together.
“One thing first. From a self-defense standpoint, the worst position you can be in is on the ground with someone on top of you. Right?” I wait for her nod to signal she’s taking this seriously.
“So, I’m going to show you something that’s called a sweep.
It’s basically using leverage to get your opponent off balance so you can sweep them onto their back. Make sense?”
She nods again, her eyes wide and mesmerized.
I pull in a deep breath for courage, because now’s the part where I have to look down at her legs—and try not to think about the space between them, wondering if this is making her as wet as it’s making me hard.
“Okay, so, you have to get on your side for this,” I start. “One leg can stay on the outside of my body, but for the other one, I want you to bring your shin directly across my chest.”
Slowly, focusing on my directions, she shifts onto her left side and slides her right knee up.
“Good. Now, I want you to trap my arm with your left hand and grab behind my neck with your right.”
“I feel like I’m being put through a Thai massage, not beating you in a fight,” she mutters.
Chuckling, I tell her, “Trust me, it won’t feel that way in a second.
Now the last step: since your right shin is across my chest, you’re going to bring your left foot up and essentially kick my knee out from under me.
Since you have my arm pinned, I have nothing to brace with, so if you kick my knee out while also knocking me over with the shin that’s across my chest, you’ll—”
I let out a surprised yelp as she follows my instructions to a T, taking my leg out and driving her shin into my chest at the same time. I fall onto my face beside her, forced to roll out of the move.
“Does unladylike mean you’re a natural?” I groan from my back. “Because that was perfect.”
She seems delighted. Sitting up, she looks down at me with sparkling eyes. “That didn’t even take any muscle! I thought that would be hard.”
“You’re bruising my ego, Red.” But I’m smiling as I say it. “Let’s try it again, but this time, I want you to roll with the throw so you’re on top of me at the end.”
She hurriedly lies back down, and I go to my knees again, resuming the original position.
As I open my mouth to talk her through the steps again, she’s already moving through each step, her brow furrowed in concentration. She shifts onto her side, brings her shin across my chest, traps my right arm, and then—
Once more, I go flying as she takes my knee out from under me and pushes me onto my back. But this time, she follows through on the sweep like I told her, which means she ends up straddling me.
I’m chuckling as my hands go to her hips. “Good girl. That was perfect.”
Bracing her hands on my chest, she beams down at me. “That’s so fun. Weird, but fun.”
“And also proved my point,” I add. “You said it yourself; you didn’t need strength to do it.”
“It probably helps, though,” she muses. “I’m assuming you could throw me off with all strength and no leverage.”
Wordlessly, I trap her hand and bump my hips up, flipping her over and reversing our positions. Her squeal turns into another laugh.
“Leverage makes it easier,” I tell her with a wink.
Before I can guess what she’s about to do, she goes for the sweep once more. But she’s a little overzealous and tries to do all the steps at one time.
She brings her shin up at the same time that she kicks my knee out, and I go face first into her knee.
The momentum automatically finishes the sweep, but by the time she’s sitting on top of me, I’m groaning around a fat lip.
“Oh my God,” she cries, cupping my face in her hands. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident! Are you okay?”
“I get hit in the face a hundred times a day,” I say, chuckling. “Of course, I’m okay.”
“But I kneed you in the face! Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
She seems so distraught, I start to rub a soothing path up and down her thighs. “Red, I promise I’m fine. This really is nothing. And it was my idea to show you the move.”
“I’m sure you never intended for me to beat you.”
“That was exactly the point I was trying to prove.”
She lets out a heavy breath, seeming to finally accept that I’m truly alright. Then she leans over me and plants her hands next to my head. My hands freeze on her body as she looks down at me.
“Should I get anything?” she asks softly, her eyes scanning my face. “Do you need ice?”
I can’t breathe, can’t talk. I just shake my head in answer.
I watch, mesmerized, as her gaze tracks over my lips. I can feel the slight swelling, although I’m not lying to her that this is nothing for me.
When her eyes meet mine again, there’s a flash of uncertainty in them. I don’t know why until she whispers, “Don’t kiss me.”
My eyebrows pinch. I open my mouth to tell her I’d rather die than cross her boundaries, but before I can, she lowers her head.
And barely, just barely, brushes her lips over the swelling.
Terrified to move, yet desperate to feel that again, I lock every muscle in place.
Slowly, she does it again, her kiss—is it a kiss?—lingering for a moment longer and sending my heart into overdrive.