Page 63 of Hidden Justice
He dances back, lean, flexible, and a bundle of muscle. He rubs his rib, in the general vicinity of hisAll for Onetattoo. “Old moves, J. Rib still pings from last time.”
Huh? I’m getting predictable? I charge in, trying for a neck lock.
He blocks, gets control of my arm, traps it.
Fuck, that hurts.
I send an elbow at his head.
He dodges, but my strike does the job because he loosens his grip.
I break way, back off, shake out my arm.
Seeing my discomfort, Tony flashes his pearly straight teeth at me.
Ass. “I’m pretty sure I could get my entire fist into that mouth, Tony.Whileyou’re eating an apple.”
He smiles wider. Under that great smile, he’s all deadly charm and South Philly. “Did ya know female ducks got a hidden uterus?”
He’s trying to distract me. Kind of his thing. Still… “Like a covert uterus?”
While I’m pondering this, he sends a front kick at me.
I grab his heel.
He twists, breaks away, and uses his other leg to sweep me to the ground.
I roll, bounce back up.
I’m breathing heavier now, starting to sweat. He’s taking charge of this session when I’d hoped to dictate the moves and our discussion.
“Know how some animals go all-out, plumes and dancing and whatnot, to impress the females?”
I keep him at arm’s length, watching the spread of his hands, the shift of his hip, and the slide of his feet against the cushioned mat. “Yeah, so?”
“Well, male ducks ain’t goin’ for that shit. They just up and rape the females. Fact, they do it all the time. So much so, the female’s anatomy adapted. Not only are their duck vaginas ridged like a screw—going the opposite way of the male penis ridges—”
Ouch. “You’re making that up.” I block his right jab, strike out with my free hand.
He steps back instinctually, and I’m there.
Hooking his leg, I trip him onto the mat, then drop on top of him. We wrestle. And he’s still fucking talking.
“God’s honest,” he says, nearly in my ear.
My grip slips from around his sweaty, shirtless torso. Probably why he wears no shirt.
Reaching back, I grab his leg instead, manage the lock, put pressure on it.
He taps out, and I let go.
Even though I bested him, he gets to his feet, smiling, dancing, and still talking. “Their vaginas are like a labyrinth with fake little offshoots for the sperm the female don’t want.”
A labyrinth?
We exchange a series of strikes and counterstrikes, with him moving closer each time.
He gets control of my neck, forces my head down.