Chapter 14 #3
I am terrified at the lengths to which he is pushing me.
I struggle violently to come out of his hold, but my body does not even move an inch against his grip.
The moment I stop, he pushes me against the wall even tighter.
There is no space for me to move or do anything.
His skin on mine, his chest pressed against my breasts, I’m caught up and unable to move, yet I try repeatedly.
I can feel the concrete of the wall on my skin, so I clench my teeth, trying to hold in the pain, trying to keep the back of my head from hitting the wall.
A fragile breath escapes my lips as my gaze meets his.
He looks into my eyes with no compassion. I am undone.
I have never been so challenged. He looks at me without a drop of mercy.
Instead, he reads me. He reads my every reaction to his painful grip and hold.
He reads my every facial expression to understand what I do when I cannot get out of a situation.
He reads me and lets me suffer for a while, confident that I will submit to his authority.
It’s almost like he delights to see me struggle against his dominance, like he delights to watch me challenge him until I cannot anymore, like he wanted to train me to an extreme point of endurance, like he was looking for me to meet my match.
In this moment, I realize I’m done for. I am so screwed.
Of course I knew it earlier, but I didn’t want to admit it. At least physically.
I have fought black belts, world champions, trained fighters; I have fought elites, top-ranked players; I have fought a Lerod, but I have never fought someone as ruthless as Pesh. And he didn’t even seem like he was trying. I would hardly call this a fight, had I not been fighting for my life.
Just as my lips open to inhale a much needed breath, his right hand slides across my waist, pulling me up. I feel like I’m being pulled up a building. He continues until I am smushed inside his body, my feet dangling in the air.
And now, I am close enough to see every detail on his chiseled face. Close enough to taste his fiery breath. And it tastes way too addicting. His gaze is way too entrancing. Every part of him is so striking. He is effortlessly beautiful.
I try to focus, to slide my feet to kick him, but he crashes my butt tighter to the wall.
“Do you yield?” His breath sinks into my neck, tempting me.
“No!” I maintain my agency.
“I thought you might say that.” His golden eyes flash with an iridescent smile, reflecting against the heavenly sunset. Oh, he looks heavenly.
My eyes can barely see anything else but his towering muscles. And I realize, a war could begin and end and no one would see me in this corner where he has me pinned.
I try to adjust my hands behind my back, but he only cuffs it tighter. How could it get tighter? A gasp escapes me. I feel like I am barely breathing, yet I am panting, causing my chest to rise, but it just rises into him.
I can feel his every heartbeat wrapping itself around my breasts, utterly consuming and enveloping me. His chest is basically swallowing my breasts like it’s nothing.
I wonder if he feels anything.
So I probe, to challenge him, exhaling gently to keep breathing. “If I don’t yield, I doubt you’ll keep me in this position for long.”
“You have no idea how long I’ll keep you in this exact position. Matter of fact, I’ll teach you a couple of positions.” His whisper sinks into my neck like a flush of heat, consuming every part of my body, making me stupidly long for him.
Just as I flex my wrists, his right hand pulls me even tighter and I can feel every line of his muscles. “Pesh!” I don’t realize when I beg.
“Patron. Pesh,” he clarifies.
Mmm. That’s a power move. Not that he needed any more power over me.
“At least that’s what you seemed to like calling me these days.” Great. He’s still pissed about my last words to him the last time we met. Makes two of us.
I look away, but he doesn’t permit me to feel annoyed.
He pulls my chin to meet his gaze, but as my eyes snap back to his, I realize he’s not even looking at me.
Urgh! My gaze drifts over his alluring lips.
I remember what those taste like. Way too good.
Way too powerful. Way too domineering. Way too indulging.
For someone I don’t trust. For someone who could kill me.
Who in fact, almost did. And might be thinking of doing so still.
I keep staring at his eyes until he turns his gaze toward me. For a moment, all is still. The wind blows, but we do not hear it. Our hearts pound, but we do not focus on it.
“What other positions were you thinking?” That actually wasn’t bad.
“Flirting is not a good way to win any fight.”
“What makes you think that I’m flirting with you? Or that I would want you?”
“What makes you think that you don’t?”
“I don’t!” I gulp.
He smiles. “Closer,” he commands.
Dang it. I obey, drawing closer to his lips, too allured to resist.
All I see is gold, and the gold in his eyes flickers, examining my open lips, breathing on my tongue, drawing closer to grab it. And just as we are breaths apart… I come back to my bloody senses. Shantavia! Don’t be stupid!
Pain suddenly shoots through my thighs, and I hold in a groan, not wanting to embarrass myself anymore than I already have today.
But the pain intensifies, and I shut my eyes to deal with the sudden sensation.
Gosh, my thighs… “My thighs are burning!” I don’t realize when I confess out loud, and in the same instant, I feel Pesh’s hand slide across my thighs, cupping it softly, while somehow still keeping my wrists pinned to the wall from the force of his body on mine.
“You need to work on your quad strength.”
My eyes flick open. “I need to work on a lot of things.”
“No.” His right hand tugs my right thigh forward, sending a sudden relief through my leg. “It’ll help your stability and balance.”
“I seem to be stable just fine right here.”
“Are you?”
Shockingly, I am. It’s hard to comprehend how he is able to keep me up like I am weightless.
I inhale a heated breath as his fiery hands press deeper, gliding up and down my left thigh now.
“You fall way too easily. Strengthening your quadriceps will help you sprawl against takedowns, keep you upright under impact, and when you do fall, it’ll help you stand up faster. Capiche?”
I nod. “Capiche.”
It’s actually nice what he’s doing to my thighs that were previously burning, considering how he whooped me.
The way he touches me feels so dangerously safe.
I feel so safe with him, even while pinned down.
It’s so hard for me to resist, but I say, “It’s gonna be dark soon.
Are you really not gonna let me go unless I yield? ”
“Shut up,” he commands—so deep, so raw, breathing on me with his vigor. “Yes or no?” he now asks in a voice so stern, I’m almost tempted to retort.
“I thought you told me to shut up.”
“Five seconds. Four. Three. Two—”
“Yes, okay. Yes.” Crap—he’s good.
And then… he does it.
His tongue grabs a hold of my neck, sending me into euphoria.
I close my eyes as his tongue continues to trace the lines of my neck, claiming every inch of it for his mouth.
He tightens his hold on my hands as if to remind me of what I already know—that I can’t escape.
Of what he knows—that I don’t want to escape.
He’s still sucking my neck. And it’s so addicting.
His tongue is like a warm fire, gently warming every part of me.
I’m beginning to think this guy can read my mind because he doesn’t stop sucking my neck.
But I can’t help myself. Anything to interrupt the drug. “Is this part of the common rules of fighting? Jab, slide, lick?
“Kick.” He drops me back to the floor, returning me back to the training at hand.
“What was that?” I stumble on my words. “Some kind of healing portion or something?”
“Yeah… whatever you tell yourself, Tavia,” he says with a smile.
“Normal people don’t lick their trainee’s neck!” I retort, hoping to put him in a corner, the way he has me.
“Normal people don’t stay for their necks to be licked. After their aye, es, es, has been whooped,” he states, using common society code words. Words used in place of curse words among the Common Elite. There’s others. I don’t know many.
But. Yep. I’m the one still in a corner, but I try again.
“I don’t speak in common code.” I flash him a smile.
A smile shines through his eyes. A beautifully smug smile. Urgh. I hate it. I hate how hot it is. A frown flares across my eyes, reminding me of what he just said—he whopped my butt. I guess I can admit that, not without an attitude though. “I’d hardly call that a whooping. You didn’t even try.”
“You’re right. You whooped your own butt by your stubbornness, and not listening to a word I said.”
“You barely gave me the space to think, let alone listen.”
“Once again, you listen with your…” He licks my neck near my ears. “Not with your… mind.”
Mmm... what does that even mean?
“Do you yield now?” he asks again, drawing closer.
“I… I…” I imagine it, his tongue diving into mine, utterly tying it down, rampaging through it like he owns me with that cocky, addictive mouth of his. I wish I could have it, but I can’t. I can’t.
I want to win. So, I change tactics.
I feign a moan, arching closer. “Pesh! My hands… my hands hurt.” That’s not a complete lie. He suddenly blinks as though in slow motion and something in him seems to soften? Awaken? I’m not sure, I just know his thumb drifts over my wrists, so softly, so gently.