Page 32 of Bitter Queen (Advantage Play 4)

“Behind you or in front of you? And while you were laying down or standing?”

Dropping her chin to her chest, she reveals, “All of the above.”

“Then let’s get started.”

The next few hours go by in a blur of Jiu-Jitsu, self-defense, and repetition until she’s comfortable with a blade pressed to her throat. And the best part is that she hasn’t used her safe word. She’s getting stronger.

“You’re doing well,” I praise her with my ass on the ground a few feet away from her.

Lying on her back, she tucks her hands behind her head and looks up at the ceiling. “Thanks.”

“What else do you want to work on?”

Her eyes snap to mine, but I can see the indecision in her gaze.

Sensing her hesitation, I press, “What do you want, Q?”

“I want you to teach me what to do if he…if he gets me on my back.”

The last time we were here, she lost her shit. I don’t want that to happen again. But she’s right. We haven’t tackled the one position that terrifies her most. The one we haven’t faced since the day she used her safe word. And I’m just as scared as she is to hold her down, straddle her thighs, and teach her how to get out of it.

“You sure you’re ready?”

She scoffs. “I’ll never be ready, D. But it’s like you said…I can’t let him win, right?”

“Right.” Rubbing my palm down my face, I kneel down and crawl over to her. She’s in a pair of running shorts, but they’ve ridden up a few inches since she’s on her back. My brows furrow when I notice the angry red marks slashed across her upper thighs.

“What are—?”

“They’re nothing.” Her knees snap together before she stretches her legs against the ground, cutting off my view.

“Q….” My voice trails off. I don’t know what the hell I should say.

Her tone is hushed and indifferent as she answers, “I told you he liked knives, remember? Now let’s get this over with.”

The weight of the world feels like it’s on my shoulders as I straddle her legs. But she doesn’t need my pity right now. She needs my strength. And I’m going to give it to her.

“What’s your safe word?” I demand.

“I know what it is. Just get to the point, D,” she huffs. Her anxiety is making her testy from her current position, so I don’t let it bother me.

Jaw tight, I weave my fingers into her short, silvery-blue hair but keep my grip loose. “Your instinct is to get away when you’re in this position. To wiggle backward, right?”

She nods and tries to do exactly that, but it’s pointless. I just need to tighten my grip, and she’ll be screwed.

“What you want to do is the opposite,” I explain, keeping my tone even. “Grab my hand that’s holding your hair and lock it in place so that I can’t move it.” Her little hands wrap around my arm, and she hugs it to her chest.

“Good,” I praise her. “Now, you’re going to use your foot on the same side that my hand is grabbing you and weave it over my leg.” Again, she follows my orders, and my chest swells with pride.

“Perfect. Now, you’re going to thrust your hips and push up toward the side that we’re locked together. I won’t be able to counter your movement with my foot to keep my balance, and I’ll end up rolling until you’re on top of me, gaining the upper hand.”

“The upper hand?”

“Yeah. Being on top allows you more freedom and control.”

Her mouth quirks. “Is that right?”

I laugh, grateful for some comic relief in this messed-up situation. “Uh-huh. Now thrust your hips, baby. Let’s see what you can do.”

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