by Smyth, R. A
Next I focus on my footing, stepping back with my right foot, keeping my weight centered as I raise my fists. Concentrating on the pads, I push off my back foot, moving my body forward, putting as much weight behind the punch as I can, my fist colliding with the soft fabric of the pad.
“That was good,” Preston says, pride shining in his eyes. “Don’t forget to keep your elbows tucked in against your body, though.”
Getting myself back into position, I repeat the movement over and over again until I’ve got it perfect. Only then do we move on. He shows me how to do something called an uppercut, angling the pads so I’m punching up, before moving on to demonstrate a few more moves that he calls power punches. By the time we’re done, my top is slick with sweat and I’m breathing heavily.
Jeans and boots are so not the right attire for this level of physical exertion.
“That’s good, you’re doing well,” he says. While I’m a sticky, sweating mess, he looks fucking incredible, his muscles bunching and bulging as he flexes is arm against my punches.
“But, what about if someone crowds you?” Throwing the pads on the floor, he moves in close to me, slipping around until he’s pressed up against my back. This close to me, his manly scent enveloping me, I struggle to concentrate on his words as he wraps his arms tightly around me, clamping my arms against my sides. “What if they sneak up on you and have you pinned against them?”
I’ll happily be pinned against him. Beneath him. By him, against a wall. Pretty much anywhere in any position.
Damn girl, focus. What he’s trying to teach you could be the difference between getting out of a situation alive or ending up dead some day.
Pushing past the feel of his hard body against mine, the feel of his semi-erect dick pressing against my ass, I pretend it’s someone else, someone who wants to harm me, holding me hostage against them.
I wriggle in his firm embrace, trying to break his tight grip around me, but no matter how much I try to get free, I can’t, and it doesn’t take long until I’m panting in his arms, exhausted.
Once I’m a limp noodle in his arms, he starts to direct me, getting me to bend my knees, causing my attacker to bend down, losing their centre of gravity. Next he directs me to raise my arms out in front of me, causing his arms to lose their tight grip around my shoulders, enabling me to bring my hands up in the gap created between my face and where his hands are clasped.
“Good, now, keeping your hands raised, turn in my arms so you’re facing me, your hands, pressing against my chin.” I do as he says, and, with my hands pushing against his chin, forcing his head back, I use the momentum to push back, freeing myself.
Doing the same thing again, he wraps his arms around me from behind, this time holding me around the waist, leaving my arms free. With my arms free, it initially seems like it should be a lot easier to get free, but after scraping my nails over his arms and trying to use my elbows to hit his head, I quickly realize, I’m no less disabled than I was before.
“Grip the wrist on my upper arm with your left hand,” he directs me when I’ve once again exhausted myself trying to break free. Doing as he says, I latch on tightly to his right wrist.
“Next, wedge your other hand between your body and my grip, bringing it up underneath my arm until you can grab your other wrist.” Again, I do as he directs, feeling him nod behind me once I’ve managed it.
“Good. Now, use your body weight to push down, breaking my hold.” Doing as he says, pride swells within me as his hands easily break apart. I did it!
“You’re not free yet,” he reminds me before I can get carried away. “Now, step away from my body, towards my right side, bringing my arm with you until you can twist it behind my back.” Slowly, I turn, moving away from him and pin his arm behind his back, the action enabling me to have the upper hand.
“Excellent,” he praises when I let go. “Now, let’s do both moves again, only faster.”
It’s nearly an hour later, and my entire body hurts when he finally lets up. “Alright, you’re doing well. Let’s take a five-minute break.” He turns his back to me as he strides across the room towards a small fridge filled with bottles of water, so he doesn’t see the sinister glare I give him.
I can barely put one foot in front of the other as I take a seat at the side of the room, taking the outstretched water bottle from Preston’s hand and downing half of it in one swallow.
Neither of us talk and all too quickly, Preston is setting his bottle on the floor beside him and getting to his feet.
“I hate you,” I grumble when he holds out his hand for me to take, helping me to my feet again. There’s no heat behind the words though, and the asshole just smirks at me before dragging me back to the mats.
“This time we’ll work on what to do if someone tackles you to the ground,” he says, stepping in close to me. Too close. The scent of his cologne mixed with sweat infiltrates my nostrils, distracting me so I don’t notice what’s happened until I’m falling backwards onto the mats, Preston coming down on top of me.
“You want to do everything you can to avoid ending up on the ground in the first place,” he says, hovering above me, his body pressed against mine, his hips pinning me to the mats.
How the fuck can he be thinking about self-defense right now? My brain is completely on the fritz, all ability to string thoughts together having escaped me as soon as I felt his erect cock between my thighs. The fact he’s as turned on by this as I am, only driving me even further to distraction.
He took his top off during our break, and my eyes fall involuntarily to his chest. His pecs are ginormous. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, and my eyes are mesmerized by his bunching muscles as he holds himself above me.
I bite down on my lower lip as I think about running my tongue over his skin, tasting the salty sweat coating it as I dip between the lines of muscle. He’s so fucking ripped, each muscle creating mountains and valleys, just begging me to explore them.
“Sophie,” Preston growls, seeing I’m distracted. Flicking my eyes back to his, I latch on to the lust burning in them. He’s as affected by our closeness as I am. I doubt it would take much to push him over the edge.
I sweep my tongue out to lick my lower lip, watching as his eyes dip to follow the movement, his breath hitching. Leaning up, I run my tongue up the column of his neck, moaning as I finally taste the biting salty taste of his skin.
“Sophie.” This time, the word comes out less as a demand and more as a plea, the waning of his resolve making me smile against his neck. I nip the tender skin behind his ear, knowing he loves that bite of pain with his pleasure as much as I do.
His hips rock against mine as I arch into him, needing to be closer. It’s not enough that my body is flush against his. I need more.
Lifting my arms, I run my palms up his bicep and over his shoulders, digging my fingernails into his skin as I scrape them down his back before gripping his ass. Growling, he moves, so he’s wedged between my thighs, grinding his pelvis against mine, the friction making me cry out.
Leaning back, he undoes the button of my jeans, dipping his fingers under the lining of my panties and drawing them down my legs, his eyes heating with lust as he unwraps me.
Shuffling back, he drags the jeans and underwear down to my ankles. Before I can process what’s even happened, he uses his superior strength to flip me over to my stomach, grabbing my hips and lifting them into the air, so I’m on all fours in front of him, my ass pressing against his erection which is more than prominent through the fabric of his chinos.
He runs his hands over my ass cheeks then up my spine, pushing down until my chest and head are pressed against the mat. I turn so I can see him, watching as he unzips his trousers, pulling out his dick. His eyes darken with lust as he runs the tip of his penis back and forth across my pussy lips, spreading my juices.
Grabbing tightly onto my hip with one hand, he slams into me in one quick, deep motion. I gasp out at the sudden intrusion, watc
hing as he closes his eyes, savoring the feel of my cunt squeezing him.
Desperately needing him to move, I arch my back, pressing my ass against him. His eyes snap open, meeting mine, and he pulls back until only the tip is left inside me, before once again slamming into me. His firm grip on my hip is the only thing stopping me from sliding across the floor as he repeatedly pounds into me, each thrust pushing me closer to ecstasy.
“Ooh,” I moan when his fingers press against my clit, before dipping lower, coating his fingers with my juices.
With his eyes glued to where he’s thrusting in and out of me, he runs his hand down over my ass, circling my puckered hole before pressing the tip of his finger into me.
“Has anyone fucked you here, Princess?” His voice is a low growl that goes straight to my core, making me wetter. No one has ever touched me there except Aiden and Ty, but suddenly all I can picture is Preston sliding into my ass.
“Yes,” I whisper, while simultaneously pushing back against him, encouraging him to press in further. His eyes, heavy with possession, flash to mine, holding me hostage while he sinks his finger into my ass.
“Ty and Aiden?” He clarifies. I simply nod my head, too lost in the potent sensations he’s eliciting.
“Fuck, Preston,” I groan at the intense sense of fullness when he’s sunk his finger into me. He continues to impale me with his thick cock, and the combination of both is heady and overwhelming.
He pulls his finger out slowly before pushing in again, the slight sting of his intrusion quickly fading, being replaced by an all-consuming pleasure.
He quickly ups the pace until both his finger and his dick are hammering into me at an unbelievable pace. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire, flooded with pleasure as he rapidly propels me towards the most violent orgasm of my life.
“Preston.” My whole body feels like it’s on the cusp of coming apart, like I’m about to explode into thousands of fragments and I’ve no idea if I’m begging for him to stop, or demanding he keep going.
I can feel him swelling within me, on the verge of unraveling himself. His cum hitting my inner walls is the final trigger that pushes me over the edge.
“Fuck, fuck. Oh, fuck, Preston!” I cry out as my body falls apart, the most powerful rush of endorphins coursing through me as I collapse in a heap on the ground, Preston collapsing on top of me.
“Jesus,” he pants, as out of breath as I am. “That was fucking incredible.”
You’re telling me. Holy shit! I don’t think I can move from this spot for the rest of the day.
He kisses my shoulder gently, the gesture at complete odds to our quick and dirty fuck session, but that’s what I love about Preston. It doesn’t matter if we do it slow and full of meaning, like earlier, or hard and fast like right now, all of it is fucking incredible. After all, who doesn’t love a guy who’s a gentleman in public and a sex fiend in the bedroom?
Eventually, Preston lifts off me. With his heat no longer pressed against my back, the coldness of the room seeps in and I shiver.
“We probably need to be getting back soon,” Preston says, tucking himself away as I roll over and pull my jeans back up.
Coming over, he helps me to my feet, planting a passionate kiss on my lips before grabbing my hand and leading me out of the room. I swear my legs still feel like jelly, something he must notice as he looks over his shoulder at me, giving me a cocky smirk. I guess he should be proud of himself, that was an insanely incredible fuck.
Chapter 16
“What’s the latest?” Aiden asks, getting down to business. We’re all once again gathered in the living room for a strategy meeting. Preston got an update from his PI this morning, and we’ve all been waiting super impatiently for Barrett to get back from town so he could fill us in.
Another week has gone by with no progress and we’re all getting frustrated. We thought it would be easier than this to find dirt on the one-percenters. There’s no way these rich assholes aren’t involved in other shady shit.
“I’ve had my PI looking into The Citadel, trying to see who owns it. Unfortunately, it’s owned by a shell company. There are no names or anything associated with it, but he found a swiss bank account with a fuckton of money in it.”
“Okay...how does that help us?” I ask.
“It doesn’t, really. The bank account must be connected to the one-percenters, but he hasn’t been able to link it to them yet. I have him working on it, though.”
Glancing around at the rest of the guys, I can tell they’re as disheartened by this news as I am. We really need to catch a break here somewhere.
“Right, well, was he at least able to dig up something on the Ashbys or Chadwicks?” Aiden asks impatiently.
“No,” Preston sighs, and I swear you can feel the anger and frustration pulsing in the air. “But, Barrett had mentioned Sophie overheard Cece talking about fucking some guy who works for her dad.”
Aiden and Ty both look at me and I nod my head in confirmation. “Yeah, I overheard them talking in the bathroom last week.”
“Well, I asked my guy to check it out, and apparently she’s been meeting with Sebastian Wells, some high up exec in her father’s company, at the Redwood hotel.”
“And how does that help us?” Ty snaps shortly.
“I was thinking,” Preston starts, glaring at him. “Since the PI isn’t having much luck digging anything up, we could pay this Sebastian Wells a visit and blackmail him into finding something out about his employer for us.”
Ty picks up at the mention of getting out there and doing something ourselves. “Hell yeah!” He exclaims. “I’m totally on board with that.”
“Yeah,” Aiden agrees. “I’m in too. I’m sick of sitting around doing nothing.”
When everyone turns to look at Barrett, he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go see what this asshole knows.”
________
It’s not long before we’re all bundled in the car, making the hour-long trip to the country club the guy apparently spends his Saturdays at. Life doesn’t get any more upper class than collared polo shirts, checkered jumpers and golf shoes, right?
“Jesus, this guy is forty-five,” Barrett exclaims from the front passenger seat where he’s going through the dossier the PI gave Preston on Sebastien Wells. “Married, with kids that are like our age. And he’s fucking Cece?” He gasps, wrinkling his nose. “That’s sick.”
“Totally fucked up,” Ty agrees, looking equally disgusted.
When we finally pull over on the side of the road outside the country club, we don’t have to wait long before the asshole’s fancy red convertible speeds out of the gate, flying past us down the road.
Throwing the car into gear, Preston takes off after him.
“What’s our plan?” I ask as we follow him through a couple of junctions, not knowing where he’s going.
“Apparently Cece isn’t the only girl he’s fucking on the side,” Barrett tells me as we pull into the Redwood hotel car park. “After his golf game, he likes to meet up with mistress number two.”
Trailing after the car until it turns into a parking space, Preston pulls up behind him, stopping across the back of the red convertible, blocking him in.
We all jump out of the car, Barrett and Ty coming to stand beside Preston and Aiden as a fuming looking Sebastien climbs out of his low-lying sports car and comes storming towards us.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get out of my way!”
“No can do,” Barrett says easily, shaking his head.
Narrowing his eyes as he glares at each of us, Sebastian asks, “Who the hell are you?”
“If you don’t tell us what we want to know, we’ll be your worst nightmare,” Ty threatens, his voice unusually low, filled with menace. I rarely get to see him in Beast mode. It’s so easy to forget he’s not always the flirty, cheery guy I know and love. But, damn, if the low rumble of his voice doesn’t get me all excited.
Sebastian’s spine straightens a
s he takes a step back, away from the four intimidating guys standing in front of him. But he’s got nowhere to run. With the wall of the hotel behind him, and us in front of him, he’s a cornered mouse. If the wild, frantic look in his eye is anything to go by, he fucking knows it too.
“What do you want?” He snaps, but there’s less bite in it this time, and a slight quiver of fear rings in his words.
“We need dirt on your boss,” Aiden states simply. “And you’re going to get it for us.”
The guy snorts. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, we’ll tell him you’re fucking his daughter.” Preston has a superior smirk on his face as he delivers those blowing words.
“What?” Sebastian cries. “You don’t...I’m not,” he stutters before finding his back bone. “You don’t have any proof of that.”
“Don’t I?” Preston asks casually, a slight tilt to his head that makes his entire demeanor verge on psychotic. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he turns it so Sebastian can see the screen. I don’t know what photographic evidence he has, but it must be sufficient as Sebastian turns white, seat beading his forehead.
“I don’t think your wife would be too impressed to find out about Cece, or Masie either.” Preston adds on.
“What do you need to know?” The guy stammers, all traces of arrogance gone now that he knows he’s truly cornered.
“We need to know about any dirty shit Richard Ashby is involved in.”
“How do you know he’s caught up in anything like that?” The guy questions.
“We just do.”
“Uh, okay. I might, umm, have something useful,” Sebastian says uncertainly. I think we’re all surprised at his words. None of us expected that, we figured we’d have to give him a week or so to find something.
“What?” Aiden snaps, as keen as the rest of us to know what he knows.
“Richard has a secret bank account that he’s been funneling money into. There’s several billion dollars in it.”
