Page 26 of Sapphires and Snakes
Both of Tamayo’s ankles are wrapped around one of mine. She drags me toward her, and I scramble to break her hold, but my hands are still in the boxing gloves and useless for wrestling. I waste precious seconds attempting the impossible, and she takes advantage. She reels me in until her arm wraps around my neck, the crook of her elbow at the apex of my throat. If she flexes, she presses directly on my carotid. If she jerks backward, she crushes my windpipe. If she twists, she cracks my neck.
“Give in, princess,” she grunts in my ear.
“I can get out of this,” I snarl.
“I know you can.” Tamayo unhooks her ankles around mine to manhandle me into the space between her legs. “I know thisis only happening because you’re allowing it. Because you want this.” My back is flush against her chest as she fits her feet between my legs and pulls them wide. “You let me pin you to the mat. You let me get you in a chokehold. Youlet me.”
I hold myself rigid, resisting the urge to relax into her intentions. It’s more difficult than it should be. I walked into the training room hurt and angry and betrayed. I wanted to cave Marcus’s face in with my fists and then finish him off by carving a portrait of his tiny manhood on his chest. And for Tamayo, I wanted to make her bleed. Just a little.
I cast about for an anchor, a weapon, a reminder that I’m pissed and not at all interested in the oblivion Tamayo is offering. But there’s nothing in the vicinity. Just me and Tamayo and a swath of mats leading to a wall of mirrors.
I catch sight of us—of me—splayed open with Tamayo holding me tight against her. She’s looking at me with hooded eyes, heaving breaths, and a trickle of blood splattered across her chin from a split lip. That I gave her.
I grin. Wide.
She meets my gaze in the mirror. “See something you like?”
“Your blood.”
She chuckles again, but it’s less infuriating this time. “Vicious princess.”
“Don’t you forget it.”
She dips her mouth to my ear and whispers, “Never.” And then she slides her lips over my cheek, to my jaw, a trail of red smearing in her wake. “I want you to watch.” She speaks the words into my skin as she lifts her eyes to mine in the mirror again. “I want you to watch me fuck you. I want you to watch yourself fall apart at my hands.”
My skin flares, and I release a shuddering breath.
“Will you let me?” she asks.
I answer with a roll of my ass against her core.
She flexes her arm around my neck, and I still. “Words, princess.”
I glare at her reflection. She only lifts an unimpressed brow.
“Fine.” I grind my hips again, enjoying the tiny hitch in her breath. “You may fuck me.”
Tamayo laughs outright, and it’s as contagious as a yawn, morphing my annoyance into amusement. Her arm around my neck loosens, her hand caressing across my collarbone and over my windpipe. “Cheeky.”
I sigh. “Not again.”
She chuckles. “Hips up.”
I do as she asks, allowing her to remove my joggers and underwear and expose my naked skin to the humid air. She tosses them aside as I grab the Velcro of one boxing glove between my teeth. Before I can remove it, Tamayo snatches my elbow and yanks it out of my mouth. Half of it releases, and my glove is loose enough for me to shake off despite her hold, which I try.
“Ah-ah.” She stops me, taking my wrist in her other hand and refastening it tighter than before, then redoes the other to match. “Gloves stay on.”
I scrunch my nose and wiggle backward. She’s still fully dressed, slacks soft around my hips, belt cold against my lower back, her button-down and undershirt unable to hide the pebble of her nipples against my shoulder blades. All I’m left wearing is my sports bra tight around my chest and the boxing gloves meant to limit my touch. I smirk, making sure I’m as flush against her as can be, and turn my head to nuzzle my nose into her neck, up to the skin behind her ear.
“Brat,” she huffs, like she knows exactly what I’m up to. A self-satisfied grin twitches at the corner of my lips. But it’s short-lived as she slides her hands under my knees and jerks my legsopen, dropping them to drape over her own. She adjusts her feet to sit further apart, which stretches me open even wider.
I bite down on a moan.
She’s barely touched me. We’ve barely begun. And yet the feeling of her body surrounding mine, her palms skidding up my thighs toward my core, her clothes coarse against my exposed skin—it’s all heating my blood too fast.
Her hands skim my ribs. My stomach flinches at her touch. I’m almost fully bare, while she sits in her suit, completely covered, holding me wide open. She traces the edge of my bra, digging beneath the band. My breath is labored, and I try to tamp it down, to conceal the effect she has on me. But there’s nowhere to hide like this, in this position.
Tamayo snaps the band of my sports bra. The fabric lands against the underside of my nipple, and I jerk with a littleah. She repeats it on the other side. I clench my jaw on the sound this time. As if she can’t see my arousal. The wetness between my legs as she plays with my nipples, snaps my bra again, and again, and again. My hands flex inside the gloves, looking for something to hold on to. I roll my hips and graze my lips along her neck, up to her ear, and nibble the lobe. She smacks my breast, and I jerk with a gasp.
