She gave the pad a few playful whacks before she started to circle him. Her playful grin returned to her freckled face, and he took a few steps back. She started circling him, and when he let her get close enough, she raised the pad towards him. He simply put his hands up to block it, and absorbed the blow with his forearm. Knowing she wasn’t hardly striking hard enough to hurt him, she felt an odd release in her body. The tension from the day before came out into the pad, and he absorbed each blow without so much as a complaint. After a few dances around the mat, she felt so much better
“Does it even hurt you?” she asked? She saw he was still grinning and enjoyed the game, his muscular frame easily capable of escaping her swings, but allowing them to fall anyways. “Not a bit” he retorted. She was relieved to have her assumptions confirmed. He stopped the circling and stood a little straighter. God he was hot. He hadn’t even broken a sweat, but every muscle was defined. He was ready, prepared for the attack, and easily defended himself when she went after him. She just wanted to touch it all.
That’s it. She surrendered. She wanted him with a fierceness she had not previously known with any other man. She locked eyes with him and asked him to help her take the pad off. She could have done it herself; it wasn’t tight or difficult, she just wanted him closer. Not taking his eyes off of her, he slowly stepped forward until he could reach her arm. He gently held her hand as he released the straps and slid it off her arm.
Without breaking eye contact, she reached up, put her hands in his hair, and gently nudged him down until his lips met hers. He dropped the pad to the floor. Their lips connected, sweetly at first, their tongues tangling in an age old ritual. When she tried to pull him closer, he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and the kiss intensified. Her hands ran over his body greedily. Through his hair, down his neck, across his wide, sculpted shoulders, down to his chest. She wanted skin, way more skin, so she tried to pull his shirt up, but it was stuck under her own legs. He carried her over to a counter and without breaking the kiss he set her down and pulled the offending shirt up. She broke the kiss and pulled it up and over his head. “I’ve waited for this for so long” she barely croaked out as she finally had free access to his incredibly strong body. She trailed her kisses down his neck, inhaled his sexy scent, and continued down his shoulders and up his collar bone. Her hands made a path down his broad back and to the top of his shorts. She could go lower, she could probably reach, but she wasn’t sure if she was being too forward.
“I’m all yours,” he said, as if reading her mind. “No rules.”
When she hesitated, he took the initiative. He repeated the course but this time down her body. He took extra time at the places he remembered she had been hurt, the injuries healing but the scars still visible. He kissed her above her eyebrow, down to her arms. He kissed her formerly bruised forearms, one at a time and down to her knuckles, taking care with each one. He inspected her elbows and tenderly kissed the areas that were pink in healing.
He kissed her delicate shoulders, up her neck and danced his fingers through her long hair, tracing the hem of her exercise tank. He snuck his thumbs under her shirt. When she didn’t resist, he gently ran his hands up her sides, back towards her spine, and then forward to her bra line. She just leaned her head back and absorbed the pleasure, enjoying the torture. He then brought his hands back down, and this time continued their exploration down her back, and up and over her pants, cupping her ass, kissing her neck and collar bone.
Wanting so much more, she only groaned when he asked, “Tell me what you want. I need you to tell me what you’ve been waiting for.” He deepened the kiss, pulling her close enough that her breasts rested on his bare chest, willing her to share what she wanted, what her body needed.