Page 69 of Broken Pieces
She shoves at my chest, her smoldering eyes shooting sparks right to my dick. I laugh it off. “I’m kidding, Blue. Not about you being short. But I can lower the bag.”
I set it at the right height for her and before I can give her any more advice, she punches the bag. Unfortunately, I was still behind it and it slams straight into my abs. “Oomph.”
Her eyes go wide as she watches me hunch over. “Oh my god. I am so sorry. I thought you were out of the way.”
I lean over my knees as I catch my breath. I hold a hand up to her. “It’s fine. Just winded me a bit.”
I shake it off and walk next to her. “Okay, now that I am not in the way. Go at it. Keep your fists close to that center target so the bag doesn’t swing side to side either. And punch from your shoulder through your arm, you’ll get a stronger swing.”
She listens to everything I say and hits the bag. Her form is good, she is throwing from her shoulder rather than her arm. I am impressed.
“Motherfucker, that hurts,” she half laughs, half groans. She shakes out her hands and jumps back and forth on her feet.
“What’s with the jumping?” I laugh.
“I am trying to feel like Ronda Rousey.”
I start cracking up which she doesn’t find funny. She turns from the bag and starts hitting me. “Whoa, Mike Tyson, calm down.”
She takes one last swing at me before popping her hip to the side and placing her hands on them. “I didn’t try to bite your ear off.”
“I felt like it wasn’t too far off.”
She rolls her eyes and turns back to the bag. “Don’t laugh at me again or I will bite you!”
I shake my head at her as she beats down on the bag. Only a few minutes go by before she is shaking her hands out and flexing them.
“Don’t beat me up Muhammed Ali, but I think you might need the gloves.”
Surprisingly, she agrees with me. “I didn’t think it would hurt so much.”
I grab a pair of small gloves that Brett had gotten for Summer just in case she wanted to box. I place one on each of her hands before tapping her ass. “Get back to it Ronda.”
I watch as she beats down on the bag for nearly ten minutes. I am impressed. For someone who has never done it before she sure is lasting quite some time. I walk to the mini fridge we keep stocked with water, Gatorade, and protein shakes. I grab her a Gatorade and a protein shake for myself then walk back to the table near the bag and sit on it.
It isn’t long before she is panting. Sweat drips from her forehead, her cheeks flushed from the exertion. I watch a bead of sweat drip between her breasts and I have the urge to pull her shirt off and lick it up.
“I –think,” she gasps. “I think I –I just burned a million calories.” She uses her forearm to wipe the sweat off her brow as she walks toward me.
I spread my legs apart and she takes it as a sign to step between them. I take each glove off her and open the Gatorade and hand it to her.
She chugs half of it down. “Thanks. I feel better.”
I can’t get over how beautiful she is. Even now with her red face and sweaty brow, her splotchy chest and shaky arms. She almost spills her Gatorade when she goes to drink it again.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to use my arms for a week. They feel like Jell-O.”
I grab her hands and start unwrapping the tape. “Ivy ain’t gonna be too happy with you if you can’t make her treats for the diner. Not to mention the B&B.”
“Fuck. Summer is gonna kill me before Ivy can.”
I chuckle as I unwrap the last of the tape. I bring her knuckles to my lips and kiss them. “Ivy would find a way to kill you even if you were already dead.”
“Probably.”
I spin her around, so her back is to my front. I rub small circles into her shoulders, and she groans at my touch. “What was bothering you so much you needed to pound it out?”
She peeks over her shoulder at me. “Isn’t the point of the bag so I don’t have to talk about it?”