Page 215 of Breaking Rosalind
I ascend the steps of the boxing ring and slip between the ropes. My clit throbs in anticipation of what promises to be a game that will chase away my demons.
He unscrews one of the bottles and pours the fluid over his chest, darkening the ink with a slippery sheen. His eyes never leave mine as he advances toward the boxing ring like a tomcat closing in on his prey.
“Strip.”
I fold my arms across my chest, my gaze raking over Cesare’s oil-slicked muscles, which ripple with each movement as he ascends the steps.
“Make me,” I say.
His eyes gleam with a predatory excitement. “Challenge accepted.”
EIGHTY-SIX
ROSALIND
Shivers skitter down my spine and arousal coils deep in my core as Cesare steps into the ring. The oil dripping from his chest catches the overhead lights, giving his body a supernatural glow.
I hold myself steady in a fighting stance. Fists clenched, shoulders square, legs braced for sudden movement. Tension air crackles in the air, making my skin tingle.
He extends a slick hand. “May the best man win.”
I huff a laugh. “I’m not shaking that.”
His grin widens. His eyes dance with mischief. With a swift movement, he yanks down his shorts and frees his erection. “Then shake this.”
My gaze drops to the piercings shining on his crown. His hand flies forward, but I sidestep.
“Focus, pet,” he says.
“That was a cheap shot.”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
Oil drips on the canvas as we circle each other, and I almost regret not wearing my gym shoes. In a minute, the surface beneath us will become slippery, and I’m going to need every bit of traction to keep my footing.
He lunges, and I twist, using his momentum to send him skidding toward the ropes. He recovers, but not before I land a sharp elbow to his ribs.
“Nice move,” he mutters before coming at me again with his arms wide.
I duck, but he crouches low, already anticipating my move. His arms encircle my shoulders, and he pulls me flush against his slippery chest. Warm oil soaks into my cropped top and into my skin.
“Got you,” he growls.
“Wrong.” I reach between our bodies and grab his balls. “I’ve got you.”
His body jolts, and he makes a surprised grunt. I give his testicles a hard squeeze before freeing myself with a hard shove.
Cesare staggers backward with a laugh. “Playing dirty already?”
“Don’t we always?” I wipe my oily palms on my hips. “Come on, pet. Show me what you’ve got.”
Flashing his teeth, he charges, his feet slipping on the oily canvas. I drop low and launch myself at his legs, sending him on his back with a roar.
He hits the canvas with a laugh, and I slide my hands down his oily chest, pausing to give his cock a few pumps. When I slide my fingers beneath his balls, he grabs my wrist.
“Nice try.” He flips me onto my back, pinning one hand above my head.
I wriggle beneath him, so focused on freeing my hand that the rest of the room disappears. His other hand slips beneath the waistband of my shorts and pulls them off my hips.