Page 44 of Taken By the Biker Daddies

I placed my fingers behind my ears and I slowly lifted my upper body until my chest touched my thighs, then I lowered my body again so that my back was flat on the mat.

Twelve. Eight more to go.

I repeated the motion again and again, struggling and trembling after the sixteenth rep. My abdominal muscles were starting toache, too, and I could feel beads of sweat forming between my breasts. Still, I continued to push myself.

I wasn’t going to give up. Not now.

Seventeen…Eighteen…

I stopped again, my lungs screaming for air and my muscles for reprieve.

Fuck, this was tough.

“Giving up?” Wade asked, standing above me with his hands on his hips.

That smug look on his face just made me want to keep going all the more.

I cupped my ears again and lifted my upper body.

Nineteen…

Just one more. One more.

I repeated those two words in my head like a mantra as I summoned every bit of strength I had left in my body to complete the last sit-up.

Twenty!

If I had had any breath left, I would have shouted triumphantly. Since I didn’t, I just closed my eyes and smiled as I waited for my lungs to be replenished with oxygen and my heartbeat to slow down. Only after that did I open my eyes again, turning toward Wade. As soon as our eyes met, he looked away and cleared his throat.

Ah. He was watching me again, wasn’t he?

I took a few sips from my water bottle before talking to him. “Shall we get started?”

He stood up and stretched his arms. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a break first?”

“No,” I answered, getting on my feet as well.

After all those exercises, I was all warmed up now. I was pumped.

I put my hands on my hips. “So, where do we start?”

Wade started by teaching me how to throw proper, straight punches, then went on to teach me heel palm strikes and elbow strikes. With each move I learned, I could feel myself getting stronger, if not physically, then mentally. At least, I knew how to defend myself now, how to fight back. I didn’t have to just scurry in fear.

Now, Wade was trying to teach me how to escape from someone’s hold. He stood behind me, one arm wrapped around my chest like the way that despicable purple-haired Devil held me when he was threatening me with a knife. Back then, I had felt only fear, but I wasn’t the least bit scared of Wade, as dangerous a living weapon as I knew he could be. The rock-hard muscles against my back were only sending shivers of excitement down my spine and making my pulse quicken.

“Now, try to get away from me,” he said.

I tried to push his arm away, but it was no use.

I groaned. “I don’t know how. Teach me.”

“Step on my foot as hard as you can, or better yet, try to bend forward or shift your hips to the side. The goal is to create enough space so that you can turn and hit me with an elbow strike.”

I followed his instructions, wriggling so that I had room to turn. Then I lifted my elbow, letting it brush against the ridges of his stomach. Just like earlier, I couldn’t help but stare at them for a second, mesmerized. I knew he only took his shirt off in some effort to distract me as payback for what I did earlier when we were playing pool, but I was still grateful, enjoying the treat.

“You can follow that up with a strike to the groin,” Wade added.

I nodded, my gaze dipping to that area as well. As tempted as I was to touch his crotch, I wasn’t going to try hitting him there, though.

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