Leave me your coments and follow me.

BirdsandStars

I stare at the professor as I scowl. The professor looks at me with a frown. When I come down, I'm ready to kick my classmate's ass. Now, I'm not so sure I want to kick anyone's ass. I don't think I can kick an ex-MMA champ's ass. Especially not one who's as hot as he is.

He's wearing a black T-shirt, which fits every muscle in his body perfectly. A body that's made for sin, I'm sure of it. Nothing to do with the substitute teacher from the other day. Just as I'm sure I must look like an idiot for staring at him for so long, and not exactly in the eyes. Rather, I'm delighting in his chunk body in front of me.

—Can you say your name so that your classmates can meet you? —he says to me, stepping away from me and walking to the front of the class.

I look in all directions. All eyes are on me. I look again at the teacher who is waiting for an answer. The other teacher hadn't even asked me my name. I don't think anyone knows my name. That's why they all look at me this way.

—Ana.

—How long have you been practicing the sport? —he asks with curiosity?

—Two years. —I answer him as I look at his sinful body again.

—Well, start the warm-up and then practice with what you learned in the previous class. —he says as he beckons me to come with him to his place.

This can't get any worse.

Or it could.

I take the gloves and walk in his direction. I stop in front of him and he takes the gloves off my hands and puts them aside. I watch him take some red wraps off the floor and start wraping his hands quickly. I can't take my eyes off his hands, and I can't take my eyes off every move he makes when he's wraping them. It's as if everything is happening in slow motion. And while he's wraping his hands I imagine things that shouldn't be going through my mind right now.

Like him tying me to the bed with those same wraps.

Yeah, I know. I'm thinking about sex. Again.

I've never thought about this in my life and I know it probably has something to do with the novel I was reading these days. And how long I've been out of sex. I look up from his hands, nervous, at the direction my thoughts have taken. I look at him and he smiles at me perversely as if he knew what I was thinking.

—Let's warm up. —he says to me in a firm tone, bringing me back to reality.

I start to do my stretches over my head. The teacher stands in front of me, a few meters away, repeating the same exercises as me. But honestly, I don't think I can do this with him in front of me. I try very hard not to look at him. But it's impossible to stop when all his muscles are tensed by stretching his arms over his head.

My muscles are tight too, but those ones from the waist down. This is the second time in the day that I find myself getting excited and looking forward to a good roll in the hay. The lack of sex is starting to affect my sanity, I definitely need to blow off some steam.

I continue to admire the specimen in front of me as I try to think of something other than sex and him without clothes. The memories I have of sex are vague, but I know that all my sexual encounters were, so to speak, unsatisfying. I have felt more pleasure with my fingers than with the jerks who have touched me as a couple. How can you remember something that has never left you ecstatic?

I put my hands down and do some stretching. And I don't know why I look at his hands, strong, big. And I imagine that they run through my body, slowly.

I hear him clearing his throat. I look up slightly. He's looking at me. No. He's devouring me with his eyes. And I know exactly where his gaze is. In the neckline of the short black shirt I'm wearing. And I quickly feel my nipples tightening against the shirt, as if they know he's watching.

So the professor wants to play this game?

I smile at him and push my breasts forward more. If he wants to look and enjoy the view, let him, I'm already enjoying the one he's offering me. I watch him slightly bite his lower lip, while his eyes are now fixed on my lips.

God I need to finish this warm-up, because it's really working. His look and the way he slipped his tongue across his lips before biting it turned me on. Even more so. And I'm already imagining what it would be like to feel that tongue sliding down my sex.

Shit!

I contain a moan.

I'm starting to warm up. And not quite enough to hit anything. More like to jump on my teacher and literally rape him. It should be a sin to be so hot.

I finish stretching and start the squats. At no time does he take his eyes off mine, not even when I finish the squats and start the leg changes, the jabs, the leg stretch and the knee walk.

When I'm done, I'm much better prepared to hit someone. I'm still excited, though. I move my neck to the sides as I watch him grab the gloves off the floor.

—I promise I won't overstep with you. —he says, winking at me and giving me a smile.

As far as I'm concerned, he can go as far as he wants with me. In fact, I want him to. Although I guess we're not talking about the same terms. Or we are.

—Hands in front.

I obediently do what he says while he puts the gloves on without taking his eyes off me. He tightens them enough before he takes his hands off mine.

—Ready? —he asks as he picks up some pads.

I get into a guard position.

—Ready. —I tell him as he lifts the pads.

—I want to see everything you've got. —he says as I start to move, hitting the targets he offers, or dodging them when he comes at me.

After fifteen minutes, he stops. I've managed to hit all the targets and dodge his every move.

—Gia! —he yells at one of my teammates. —Let's switch, now the legs. —he shouts at everyone.

This Gia gets to where he is. The teacher gives me a slight smile and goes to train another classmate.

Gia picks up the pads and lifts them. And I start kicking the pads. I don't think Gia is ready for the strength of the kicks. Every time I give her one, she flinches. And she does for the next ten minutes.

—Let's move on to the bags. —says the professor making me stop after a while.

I look for a bag quite far away and start hitting with different combinations. This is what I really need. Hitting something. That's what I've been doing for almost two years. It's a good method for releasing sexual tension. Although at this moment, I would rather release this energy in another way, I think it is better that I vent with the bag in front of me. But I know that my torture has barely begun when he stands in the bag on my right side and starts pounding away.

For God's sake!

I drown out a scream and stop to watch him hit the bag with great ferocity. If he fucks with the same intensity as he hits the bag, he must be a beast in bed. I don't know why, since I moved in two days ago, I'm always thinking about sex.

I go back to what I was doing and like him, I start hitting fiercely. After a while hitting the bag, well, sort of competing to see who can hit the hardest. He stops. And I do the same thing. We both stare at each other. I can see the sweat starting to wet his body, his breathing fast, his lips half open for air.

And the image of him sweating, naked and tired after a wild sex drive comes to my mind.

—We're done with class for the day, guys. —his voice interrupts my dreaming.

I let go of the bag, take off my gloves and without taking off my wraps I put away my things and quickly go out to the apartment. I need to put some distance between me and the teacher. Because if I stay there, I know how it will end, and I don't think I'm ready for that yet. Besides, I don't want to get involved with my kickboxing teacher.

I'm heading to the shower, I need to freshen up. And not just because of the recent physical exercise, which isn't exactly what I really need. I open the shower and get under the ice water still with all my clothes and bandages in my hands.

And as I close my eyes, I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor of the shower, pick up my legs and lay my head against the wall. What's happening to me? It can't just be the lack of sex, I had that perfectly under control until 48 hours ago. It must be the change of apartment and living with a man after all this time that is affecting my senses. That, and that I'm terribly attracted to him. I feel the thunder of the bathroom door opening. I open my eyes in fear and see him. Like me, he hasn't taken the wraps off his hands. But he has taken off his shirt.

His look is fierce, you could almost say violent.

He walks in my direction. I don't miss any of his movements. His gaze doesn't leave mine for a moment, not even when he enters the shower and sits down next to me. The water begins to wet him completely. His gaze goes from my eyes to my lips.

I bite my lower lip. I already feel my breath rushing. My belly muscles are tightening deliciously. And he hasn't touched me yet. If he doesn't touch me I think I'm going to spontaneously combust. I can't help it anymore. I want him, like I've never wanted anyone before and I don't mind being disappointed like so many other idiots.

I half-open my lips while looking at him.

If he doesn't touch me in the next five seconds I'm going to jump on him and rape him, even if I have to tie him to the bed. He's already made it clear that he wants me. If he disappoints me in bed, as I'm used to, then I'll send him flying. And he can go and fuck the first one he meets if he wants to. But I need to be with him, even once. Maybe after a roll in the hay, this inevitable attraction we feel for each other will disappear, or it will take a back seat. Like all the unsatisfied sex I've had in my life. And the sexual frustration I've been building up for so long. It all go away just when he can't satisfy my sexual needs.

Men have always used me, I think it's time for my revenge. And I think I'm going to start using Christian for my personal purposes. I slide my eyes over his solid body. Every muscle is hard and tense from the physical exercise of the last hour. My eyesight continues to drop and I squint when I reach into his pants. I can see a lump in his limb. Is he excited or is it that big?

I finish counting in my mind. I think the five seconds are up.

I turn quickly and sit astride him as I place my hands on his bare shoulders. There's definitely something underneath me. I stick my nose to his. I can feel the heat of his body and how his breathing speeds up even more. I close my eyes as I brush my nose against his several times. He has not stopped me. However, his hands are on both sides of his body. He has not touched me yet.

I know I'm crossing a line here. I shouldn't force him to do anything he doesn't want to do. Yeah, I know this is what I've done with all the assholes who've touched me. I've always had to be in control. But it's been consensual. Christian hasn't given me permission to do anything. But the truth is, I hate being in control. I wait for what seems like forever for him to make a move and take control. I need him to fuck me with the same intensity he was beating the bag a few minutes ago.

I open my eyes and lose myself in his now deep blue. I don't know what his look means to me. But I'm definitely not taking control of sex again. Last night he told me he wasn't sleeping with anyone until after the first date. But honestly, I thought, if he was excited enough, I'd forget about that rule. I guess I was wrong.

—I thought you were different. —I'm telling him as I'm getting up quickly.

Christian grabs my hand, preventing me from leaving. He stands up and sticks his chest to my back. I can feel his lips sticking to my ear. The unrestrained beating of his heart and the intense heat that his body gives off.

—What do you mean?

Actually, I should answer a lot of things. That I shouldn't do this. That we work together and we'd be breaking the rules. That I'm afraid I'll be dissatisfied again. But I can only think of one answer to his question.

—I don't need another asshole on my list. —I'm telling him by letting go of his hand and separating myself from him.

I take a towel and start drying myself. I feel the shower closing and his steps in my direction.

—I know exactly what you need, Ana. —he says in a whisper behind me.

—Do you know? —I ask him by turning to him and can't stop the sarcasm and anger from flooding my voice.

—You need a massage to relax you. —he says to me as he dries himself with a towel.

—I don't think going to a spa at this time will help me much.

—Who said anything about a spa. —says to me raising an eyebrow while smiling at me. —Get out of those wet clothes and wrap yourself in a towel. —he says as he comes out of the bathroom, leaving me with my mouth open.

Are he going to give me a massage? I can't believe it. Christian confuses me, tells me that he wants me, I see it in his eyes, in the way he touches me, talks to me, looks at me. But his behavior doesn't make me clear why he didn't take control in the shower the other day or recently on the bathroom floor. His gaze conveyed desire and passion. Yet he did not make the slightest attempt to touch me, caress me or kiss me. And there is nothing I want more than to feel his lips on mine. He has thick, fleshy lips that I'm dying to taste.

And the more I think about it, the more the excitement grows in me. My belly shrinks at times and my stomach gets knotted up every time I see him in front of me. And if it's when it's wet or shirtless. That excitement is multiplied by a thousand.

I must put those thoughts out of my mind. Men are not good for me. I can't let my guard down with Christian. Because his closeness makes me stop thinking coherently.

—Come to bed, Ana, let me give you a massage to relax you. —he says to me from the room.

I haven't taken off my wet clothes yet.

—If you want, I'll help you undress. —he says again.

I don't need him to undress me. Just as I don't need a massage. But I have to get out of here to get some clothes in the room. So, without further ado, I take off my wraps and all the wet clothes. I wrap my body in the towel. And as I take a deep breath, I go out into the room.

And there he is. He's taken off his wet clothes. He's wearing a white T-shirt that fits his body and sweatpants. I try to ignore him and head for the closet to find some clothes to wear.

—Don't you want a massage? —he asks behind me.

I close my eyes. His voice sounds terribly sensual and extremely close to me.

—Don't you want me to touch you, Ana? Don't you want to feel my hands going through your body?

As he speaks, I feel my body shaking and my belly twisting with pleasure as never before. I turn towards him.

—Christian, I think we made that clear the other night. I don't want any relationship, of any kind. And you made it clear that you don't have sex until after the first date. —which luckily he didn't ask for.

Because I know if he asks, I'll say yes and then no one can stop him from sleeping with me. Not even me. The only thing that keeps us from exchanging sex, which I know how it's going to end, is his no-sex rule before the first date.

—No one has talked about sex Ana, I'll just give you a massage, I know you must be exhausted after these two days of interviews and a workout like this afternoon.

I can see the sincerity in his eyes. I know he's telling me the truth when he say it's just a massage. I walk away from the closet as I hold the towel tightly against my body. I climb up to the center of the bed, turning my back on it. I don't know why I do it. Surely this is one of the effects of his proximity. My brain switches off and my body takes full control of my actions. And I know I'm going to regret what I'm about to do.

—Do you think you're going to be able to control yourself? —I tell him as I turn my face in his direction with a smile.

—I don't think it's very... —he's telling me, but he interrupts himself while I untie the towel and slowly lower it down to cover only my buttocks, leaving my naked back in view. —…difficult to do. —he finishes as I watch his gaze slide down my body.

I turn my face back to the front containing a laugh as I untie the towel at my side. If I'm going to regret this, at least I'm going to have some fun.

—Face down in the middle of the bed. —he says to me in a hoarse voice.

I put two pillows down and go to bed. Then I begin to feel music flooding the room. I know that song, is 17 by Julia Michael.

—I don't have any massage oil. Do you have any cream I can use?

—In the bathroom. —I answer it without turning around.

I feel his footsteps moving away and closer again and how the mattress moves next to me when he climbs on the bed.

—Can I untie your towel knot? I promise not to undress you. —he says to me with a smile.

I just nod. I can't talk right now. I feel his fingers brushing against my skin as he unties the knot on the side and arranges the towel covering just above my buttocks.

I know he said he could hold it in. But I'm not sure I have the same power of conviction as he does. Not when no man has touched me in so long. Not when I want it so badly and I'm about to break my word and the vow I made two years ago.