2. Flint
two
Flint
The hum of the bar, the clink of glasses, and the thwack of axes against wood all blended into a symphony of sound that seemed to slow down when I saw this beautiful woman for the first time.
I should be focusing on my axe-throwing client, but I can't look away.
She has perfect curves, cute little freckles that dot her nose, and her hair—a fiery red that makes me think of poker-hot embers. Her eyes are a vivid blue, like the first crack of ice on a frozen lake. She's trying to be tough, but there's a vulnerability to her that makes me want to pull her close and promise her everything will be okay.
"Want me to show you?”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I’ll give you a quick lesson. It's on the house," I insist, already knowing her answer.
She looks at me, her blue eyes wide. "Really? You don't have to do that," Hazel says. She tucks a stray curl behind her ear, her fingers trembling slightly. I can see the war going on in her mind, the part that wants to accept my help and the part that's shy about taking the spotlight.
"I insist," I say, giving her a reassuring smile. "I'm the coach, remember? It's my job to make sure everyone here has a good time. And I know from seeing how you're gripping that axe you're not having the best time right now." I hold out my hand to take the axe from her. "It's all about the stance and the follow-through. And maybe a bit of confidence."
Hazel hesitates for a moment before handing me the axe. Her skin is soft and warm against mine, and I wonder how her hand would feel around my wood instead. But that's a thought for another time when I'm home alone, thinking of her before bed.
For now, I have a job to do.
"First things first," I say, positioning myself behind her. I can feel her body tense up slightly, but she doesn't pull away. Good girl. "You need to relax your grip." I guide her hands, showing her the proper grip. "See? Your hands are supposed to be loose, not white-knuckled."
She laughs nervously, trying to relax her fingers. "I didn't realize I was gripping it so tight."
"It's natural," I assure her. "First-timers always do that. Now, let's work on your stance. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent." I step back slightly, giving Hazel some space to adjust her stance. She wobbles a bit, her boots sliding against the sawdust-covered floor. I reach out to steady her, my hands resting lightly on her hips. She takes a sharp breath, her body tensing under my touch. I can feel the heat radiating from her, and it takes all my willpower not to pull her closer.
"Sorry," she murmurs. "I'm a little nervous."
I smile, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before releasing her. "Nothing to be nervous about. We're just having a little fun, right?" I step back, putting some space between us, but not too much. I can feel the heat between us, and I want to be close enough to feed off that energy.
Hazel takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath her tight top. "Right," she says, trying to sound more confident than she feels. "So, what's next?"
"Next, we work on the throw." I pick up an axe, demonstrating the motion.
"You want to bring it back over your head like this," I say, my arm arching back. "Then release when you reach the pinnacle of your throw. It's all about timing and follow-through."
Hazel watches me intently, with her lips parted slightly. I can see the concentration in her eyes and the way she's soaking up every word I say. It's intoxicating, the way she looks at me like I'm the only one in the room.
She mimics my motion, her arm moving with a hesitant grace. "Like this?" she asks.
I nod, stepping closer to adjust her stance. "Almost. You're trying too hard to be precise. It's a fluid motion, like dancing with the axe. Let me show you." I step behind her, my hands resting gently on her hips once more. She leans back slightly, her body relaxing into mine. I can feel the heat of her, the gentle curve of her back against my chest. It takes all my concentration to keep my mind on the task at hand.
"Relax your shoulders," I murmur in her ear, my breath stirring the loose curls that frame her face.
"Let your body move with the throw." I guide her hands, helping her find the rhythm of the motion. She follows my lead, her body swaying gently in time with mine. The feel of her against me makes my cock painfully hard.
Hazel laughs, the sound bubbling up from deep inside her. "This feels like a dance class, not axe-throwing," she says, her voice breathless.
"Kind of," I say. "Ok, ready. I'll guide you. Now... throw."
I give her a gentle push forward, our bodies moving in sync as she brings the axe back and releases it. The axe spins through the air, hitting the target with a solid thud. Hazel gasps, looking back at me with wide eyes.
"Did I do that?" she asks, disbelief coloring her voice.
"You did. Good girl. You listened to everything I said, and it paid off."
Her cheeks blush, and she takes a step back. "Thank you," she says, suddenly shy. She tucks a loose curl behind her ear, her fingers trembling slightly. "I never thought I'd actually hit the target."
"You're welcome. It's all about the technique. And you've got it now."
Hazel looks up at me, her blue eyes sparkling. "I do?"
I nod, giving her a reassuring smile. "Yeah, you do. You're a natural."
Her face lights up, the blush spreading across her cheeks. "Really?"
I lean in, lowering my voice. "Really. And I'm not just saying that because you're cute when you're excited," I tease, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. I see her cheeks flush even more, and I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. I love making her blush. God, if anyone hears this I am so fired.
"Can you show me one more time?" she asks, turning towards the target again. "One more time, then you're on your own, okay?" I say, stepping behind her.
She moves back and stiffens. Her breath catches in her throat as she feels my hard cock against her soft, thick ass. But she doesn't say anything. If anything, I think she presses back against me a little more.
I swallow hard and help her with her form. "Ok," I say, suddenly unable to form words correctly. What has this beautiful, curvy woman done to me? I want her. I want to take her home and ruin her. I want to see her hands and her mouth wrapped around my cock and take it like the good girl I know she is.
"Flint?" she says.
I realize I've been zoned out. My cock is practically trying to escape my jeans. "Sorry," I say. "Ok, ready to throw?"
I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. I'm not sure if I can keep up this pretense of professionalism much longer, not when she's pressed against me like this, her ass rubbing against my hard cock.
Hazel nods, her breath coming out in short gasps. She's just as affected as I am, I can tell. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling, and then brings the axe back over her head, following the motion I've taught her.
I guide her, my hands light on her hips, feeling the curve of her body beneath my touch.
She releases the axe, and it flies through the air, embedding itself into the target with a satisfying thud. Hazel lets out a triumphant whoop, turning to face me with a grin that lights up her whole face.
"I did it!" she exclaims, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement and accomplishment. She bounces on her toes, her red curls – and tits – bouncing with her. "I can't believe I actually hit the target twice in a row!"
I can't help but mirror her smile, feeling a ridiculous sense of pride. "You did great, Hazel. Good girl."
A tiny quivering gasp escapes her lips.
"Why don't you come by tomorrow? It's slow on Mondays and I could coach you some more. Maybe you're good enough to join the league." I say the words before I can stop myself, my heart pounding in my chest.
I'm not just talking about the axe-throwing league anymore. I'm talking about something else entirely. Something primal and raw. Something that has to do with the way she feels against me, the way her breath hitches when I'm close to her, the way her eyes darken with desire.
Hazel's eyes widen in surprise, her cheeks flushing a darker shade of pink. "The league?" she repeats.
I nod, my gaze locked onto hers. "Yeah, the axe-throwing league." We both know that's not what I'm talking about anymore.
"Sure," she says. She glances over at my clients, who, although they have beers to drink, are obviously getting impatient. "I think you should get back to work. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"I wouldn't miss it, Hazel."