Page 39 of Lock Up the Darkness

She grabbed my hand and wrenched my thumb free of her mouth. “You’re sick,” she seethed, holding it between us, staring at me with more incredulity than revulsion. Hella interesting.

“Just scratching the surface there, firecracker.”

“Argh!” she cried, before shoving me back.

And then she launched herself at me with an arousing battle cry.

Jabs, crosses, and push kicks came my way, and we met blow for blow.

The longer it went on, the more vicious it got, the more moves she brought out.

She was working with a combination of Muay Thai, Jujitsu, and some down and dirty street fighting. And she was damn good.

She blocked my offensive moves with her shins and forearms, moving so fluidly and swiftly that she was able to launch offensive blows immediately after the blocks, using her fists and palms, knees and elbows.

She leapt up, avoiding my sweeping kick aiming to rip her off her feet. And then she jumped back in the next beat, then executed a tornado kick that clocked me across the side of the head, the power behind it sending me staggering back several feet.

She used it to her advantage, sweeping my leg out from under me, and ripping me off my feet in the next beat.

I grunted as she jumped on me, straddling me, pinning my legs down with her knees.

Before she could snatch my wrists to do the same thing, I grasped the sides of her leather jacket and jerked her down to me.

“Fuck, you’re really something.”

Her eyes flamed at me.

She looked down at her palms splayed across my pecs.

And then she was digging her nails into my inked flesh, and slamming her lips to mine.

Fuck, yes.

I jerked her closer by her jacket, savoring the feel of her lace encased breasts against me as I rose to her kiss, devouring her, drinking her down.

When she pulled back way too soon, she stared at me in shock and awe. “This is fucked up.”

“I know. Isn’t it the fucking best?”

The both of us were panting, sweating, and hopped up on an adrenaline high and the thrill of the fight.

And it still wasn’t enough.

More like an appetizer.

I scraped my nails down her throat, to her chest, the tops of her breasts, making her moan for me and bite her lips that were now swollen and a little bloodied from both the fight and me nipping them during that animalistic kiss.

When she swept her tongue over them, licking them clean, that was fucking well it.

I jerked the bust of her dress down, baring her perky round breasts.

And then I shoved my face into them, squeezing them together and motorboating them, before I bit and tweaked her nipples one after the other.

She threw her head back in rapture, her hips bucking against me, growing wilder and wilder, basically dry humping the shit out of my cock.

“Fuck,” I rasped, pulling my mouth from her breasts and drinking in her hooded expression.

I ran my hands up her thighs, under her dress, and brushed my non-bloodied thumb over her panties. Goddamn lace too. I slid beneath the fabric and then I was gliding three fingers through her drenched folds. She shuddered, then started riding my hand, grinding me right where she wanted me, making me rub her clit real fucking roughly.

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