“Are you sure? Going out back might be a little more convenient.”
“You don’t get convenient space in a fight,” I say, “and besides, unless you changed your mind about branding this place as a mob front, I don’t think a knife-fight out back will be the best public image.”
“Fair enough,” she says, and she sinks back into the stance that I showed her. As I finish moving the tables, I look at her and smile. Her body is good at remembering the posture.
“That’s good,” I say, “managing your own center of gravity is half the fight. You’re light, you’ll need to use that to your advantage a lot.”
“How do I do that?”
I square up with her, holding my own knife at the ready. “I’ll show you step by step. I’ll move in, and I’ll show you how to move yourself so you can use my weight against me. You might not be able to push me around, but I can’t lift myself. Like this…”
I start showing her the basics of knife-fighting, the sounds of our feet scuffling around the shop the only noise besides my instruction.
Serena proves to be a good student. She seems naturally able to move where I tell her, and half the time, she anticipates what I’m going to tell her. I can see her athletic youth shining through, and her muscles serve her well.
I show her the basic moves, how to keep an enemy from using his height to his advantage, how to move quickly and effortlessly to match an enemy’s better reach. I have to be careful not to run into the displays in the shop, but it’s good practice in using the limited space.
While I teach her how to use her body, it isn’t long before she starts making use of the knife to fight back with the movements. “That’s good,” I tell her as I parry one of her quick jabs, “let the movement come first, and the attacks can follow. That’s the trick—they’ll see you coming from a mile away if you come in to attack. Let him come to you and make him regret it.”
She nods and slips around me to make a stab at my kidney, and I roll around to pull her arm behind her back, gently. I tap her on the collar with the knife, and she huffs, getting back into position. “Again.”
She gets into the swing of things fast, and soon, we’re going back and forth at a steady rhythm, our pace only getting more regular. I move in, she moves around me, and I catch her.
After a few minutes of practicing a set of about five maneuvers, I finally feel a tap of the rubber on my kidney, and she gives a triumphant little laugh, skipping back and smiling brightly. “Ha!”
“Not bad,” I admit, grinning proudly at her. “Now do it again.”
Soon, the sound of our heavy breathing is in the air as we run through the routines until I feel that they’re coming almost unconsciously to her. She moves in like a viper, and she’s starting to learn my openings. I don’t fight people as small as her, so she soon finds openings in my defenses even I didn’t know were there. She’s impressive.
And I know that the guys she’d potentially be fighting are no different than me. They don’t fight women like her. They simply…
I shake my mind of the thought. I can’t go back to that night. I can’t let myself think of what would happen if I didn’t show up.
I parry another stab, but Serena gets too bold soon, and when she tries to dart under my arms and bring the knife up to my throat, I catch her by the wrist and whirl her around, holding the knife to her own throat with her back pressed against my front.
We freeze there for a moment, our heavy breathing filling the air, and I let the rubber blade brush against her skin.
“Playing with fire, carina,” I whisper into her ear. She smiles and twists away from my grip, twirling the blade in her hand a moment before darting in again. This time, she gets up under me, and I catch her before she can draw her knife across my thigh, but she shifts her weight the way I showed her, and I go down to one knee to keep her from getting out of my grasp.
I bring my knife down to her throat, but at the same moment that my rubber touches her neck, I feel a prod at my gut from her knife.
We look into each other’s faces a moment, both of us ‘dead’ by the other’s hand.
“You learn fast,” I say in a low tone, between breaths.
She’s panting as well, her skin glistening in the light of the shop. “Have to, with a big brute like you coming after me.”
“It’ll take more than that to keep me from coming after you,” I say, my voice lowering into a husk, and before she can respond, I descend upon her and press my lips to hers.
Surprised, she moans into the kiss, her heart still beating fast from the exercise, and I soon drop my knife and use one hand to lower myself over her while the other slides up under her neck to lift it ever so slightly into my kiss. She squirms under me, and I hear her rubber hit the ground too as her hands slide up to my shirt, feeling the tight muscles under the thin fabric.
I let her explore me, her fingers going from my swollen pecs down to my abs. She feels my wounds, but the dull twinge of pain is nothing to me with Serena in my hands. The pleasure she gives me is worth a fresh gunshot wound. She wraps her arms around me, and I feel her ankles go around my waist as she clings to me tight, our lips still locked.
I stand up with her wrapped around me, and with no patience left in my body, I take her to the front counter and set her down on it. My hands run down her sides before they reach her leggings, and I roughly jerk them down as she wiggles to help them slide off.
“Spread your legs,” I order her, and she puts her hands back to lean on as she obeys, color flushing into her cheeks. The fabric reveals her lips, looking as swollen as needy as ever, and I feel my hunger for them overwhelm me.
I kneel down and run my hands over her smooth thighs, gripping the sensitive skin. She seems so delicate, even though we’ve just spent nearly an hour teaching her how to be all the more deadly.
She’s deadlier to others, at least. To me, Serena is already my fatal poison.
I lean forward and breathe in her scent, letting my breath wash over her pussy, and I hear her gasp as she grips the table, knuckles white already. I breathe along her slit, taunting her by coming so close, so very close to touching her, and when my stubble finally grazes her skin, she whimpers, trying to close her legs.
My strong, gentle grip holds them apart, though, and she pushes her hips in a little, begging for me, needing me.
“Do you think you’ve earned this?” I ask, teasing her with a smile curling on my lips.
“Fuck, Bruno, don’t do this to me!” she whines. Her face smiles, but as I let another quick breath roll over her lips, it fades into desperate need.
“Am I torturing you, carina?” I ask, using my thumbs to tease her inner thighs before I run my mouth along them, teeth grazing them, five o’clock shadow teasing them.