I couldn’t decide if it was an invitation or a challenge, but either way I wasn’t walking away from it, not when I could feel the wet heat between my legs. I knew I might be setting myself up for a crushing disappointment, but the look in his eyes promised otherwise. I wondered if he realized my body was just as frustrated and hungry as it had been the day before.
I hoped he didn’t; he was the type who’d leave me hanging just to stroke his own ego. Better if he didn’t realize my body was treating getting fucked as a foregone conclusion and my brain had given up the fight.
Trying to seem more confident than I felt, I tracked him down after the ceremony to award his new belt. I had to admit, after all the times we’d sparred together, training, it felt good to see him with that crisp, new belt showing stark black against the white of his gi.
As soon as the ceremony was done, he stalked over to me, a little smirk on his lips. “Didn’t think you’d come today. Guess you’re pretty eager to get a taste of my talents, huh?”
So much for offering congratulations, though his attitude didn’t cool the heat under my skin. “You say that like you think I expected you to pass.”
It was a weak retort, and he scoffed, because we both knew there was no chance he wouldn’t be walking out with a black belt today. “I made you an offer, and you look ready to take me up on it,” he said, voice low, moving into my space. “We getting out of here, or not?”