Page 53 of Secret Bratva Baby
He grins. “It’s not about size. And the point is to use my own weight against me. Here, let me show you again, watch how the placement of your leg is going to throw me off balance. And because I’m moving forward, towards you, you take that momentum and give me an extra push, and I land up on the ground—" he raises his brows.
“Mm. Okay. Okay, I think I get it. Let’s try again.”
I turn my back on him. My body is damp with a light sheen of perspiration. My skin is glowing.
I’m waiting tensely for him to attack.
He grabs at me from behind, his arm slipping around my throat. I push my leg out, rotate my body around him, dropping my weight down to make it harder for him to hold me. He stumbles right over me and lands on his back. In a flash, I dive onto him and pin him down.
It takes me a moment to process that I got it right.
My loud shriek of triumph echoes through the gym as I wiggle in a happy dance of success.
But then I feel him.
I have my legs wrapped around him, I’m sitting on top of him, straddling him—and his cock is rock hard beneath me.
My breath catches in my throat.
My lips part as excitement turns to heated, intense desire.
My face flushes as I stare down at him.
I want him.
Why can’t I give in to that?
Why can’t I have what my heart is begging for?
Leaning forward, moving ever so slowly against his bulging cock, my eyes focus on his lips.
His gaze is piercing into me, and he groans with pleasure as his hands brush over my thighs.
Luka sits up, pulling me tighter against his body.
He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, intent on kissing me. But as he pulls my lips towards his, I yelp in agony, pain shooting through my leg, up to my butt, as one of my muscles pulls tight, angry at me for all the exertion after such a long time of doing no exercise at all.
I grab my ass cheek, trying to massage away the pain. My nose is scrunched, my face tight, an anxious giggle on my lips.
Luka grins and lifts me off his lap.
“Lie down. Where is it pulling?” he asks, fully understanding what’s going on.
“Right at the top of my leg—oh my word, I should have stretched more.” I groan in agony.
“Lie on your stomach.” He gently pushes me down, and my cheek presses into the gym mat, which smells of lemon and disinfectant.
I close my eyes as he straddles my legs, pressing his hands into my thighs, massaging his longer fingers over my legs.
I groan again, this time in pleasure. He’s using the weight of his body to knead right into the tense muscle. It feels incredible.
His hands are a pleasure I could experience a thousand times and never get tired of.
“Is that the right pressure?” he asks, his voice low, husky and deep.
“Mm,” I sigh, feeling his body move over mine.
The pain of the pulled muscles disappears, and suddenly all I’m left with is him—touching me, moving over me. His body has me pinned to the mat.
