AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She flinches in surprise when I’m no longer able to resist that silly urge and take her hand to drag her with me. A wooden footbridge leads to the right, tracing the line where greenery and the sandy beach meet.
“Why don’t you just tell me wha—”
She stops mid-sentence, as we turn a little corner around a larger set of trees, and a large gazebo appears in front of us. The gazebo’s architecture blends seamlessly with the island’s natural beauty. The gentle ocean breeze flows through the open sides, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the distant crashing of waves against the shore.
But what truly captures her attention is what lies beneath. Spread out on the polished wooden floor of the gazebo is a sea of Jiu-Jitsu training mats, their pristine surface inviting us to step inside. The staff of this resort listened to every detail I laid out in my request, providing us with large towels and carafes filled with cool cucumber water next to a selection of coconut-based mocktails, all resting on a small table in the shade.
“What the…” she utters, before losing herself in a fit of laughter. “You can not be serious!”
“I am,” I say, already pulling the shirt off over my head. “It’s time for my revenge.”
She stares at me, as I step on the mat, inviting her to join me with a wave of my hand, while I step out of my sneakers.
“Don’t be shy,” I say. “You’ll have the honor of being the first brown belt I submit.”
She smirks at me. “Oh, we’ll see about that, Mr. Keaton.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth when the sheer cover-up slides down her shoulders and she approaches me in her delicate bikini.
That bikini is not going to stay on for long.
Chapter 26
Madison
A triangle bikini is probably the worst outfit for a Jiu-Jitsu session, and I’m well aware that I won’t be wearing my top for long. It will slide off and expose my breasts within seconds.
But I don’t care.
I want this. I want to touch this marvelous body of his. I want to let the tips of my fingers travel along the ripples of his chiseled chest. I want to squeeze his bulging triceps and trace the lines of his tattoo. I want to bathe in his scent and feel his strong hands on me.
My heart is beating wildly, hammering against my ribcage with anticipation as I slowly make my way into the wooden gazebo. Tiki torches are flickering at the corners, bathing the area in a warm light. I can see the reflection of the flames dancing on his tan skin, as he gets into position.
“I want to start with a good takedown, so let’s start on our feet,” he says, beckoning me to come closer with a wave of his hand.
Takedowns are my weak spot, especially against guys as strong as him, which is why I prefer to start with my butt on the floor—but I won’t let him know that.
“You’re awfully cocky for a blue belt,” I tease him, while I place myself right before him, copying his position.
He winks at me before he starts counting down. “Three, two, one!”
With a swift motion, he lunges forward and attempts a foot sweep, aiming to take me down gracefully. His technique is good, undoubtedly, but it’s not enough to catch me off guard.
As he executes the move, I hold my ground, my weight shifting fluidly to maintain my balance, while his fists dig into my shoulders in an attempt to bring me down. It’s not the first time I’ve faced such a maneuver, and my instincts have been honed by hundreds of hours of training. I feel the sweep, but I don’t go down as easily as he may have expected.
I can tell that he’s not going all in, despite his menacing words. His chances of taking me down would have been way better with a simple judo throw, but he opted for a foot sweep, a gentle and rather cautious way to bring your opponent to the floor.
“Almost,” he hisses.
I look up to meet his gaze—which turns out to be a mistake. It’s just a split second, a momentary lapse of concentration, but it’s enough for me to no longer hold the upper hand. He lets go of my shoulders and bows down to wrap his strong arms around both of my legs before he sweeps me to the side in one swift motion. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. I’m falling down, arms flailing through the air and a frustrated yelp echoing across the beach.
I manage to soften my fall with a slight roll to the side, but he’s on top of me before I can push myself back up. He straddles me and tries to go for my wrists, but I have no intention of letting him get a hold of me. I try to push him up by the hips, but he’s too heavy and too strong, and I’m too busy fending off his attempts to grab my wrists to put in enough effort.
And then it happens. All of my attempts to evade him turn out to be futile. He gets ahold of my right wrist first, then the left, and just a moment later, he’s pinning both of my arms down to the ground, leaving me helpless and stuck beneath him.
A smile widens on his face, and his gaze trails down to my chest—where my breasts are now almost fully exposed. The bikini top must have slipped when he brought me down on the mat, and I hadn’t even noticed, because I was so focused on the roll.
But that has passed. I no longer worry about proving my worth as a Jiu-Jitsu practitioner by submitting him. I don’t want to fight him. I want to know what that look on his face means, that wanton gaze, and the way he licks his lips, as if he was about to devour a majestic feast. And that feast is me.
