Page 182 of Alessio

So entirely fucked.

“I told you, it’s Les.”

Corrado nodded. “That’s nice.”

All right, Alessio was done fucking around now. He wasn’t wrong—Corrado didn’t give up easily. And yeah, he didn’t have the sharply honed skills with hand-to-hand combat like Alessio did, but he could still hold his own. He wasn’t so stupid that he didn’t know to protect his face, and he was quick on his feet, moving from one side of the mat to the other when he really wanted to get Alessio pissed off.

They were supposed to keep it clean, and Alessio fully intended on doing that until he realized this wasn’t going to teach Corrado shit. So, when he had the chance and was close enough after tossing hits back and forth for a few minutes, he made his move. Spinning a bit on his left heel, he raised his right foot from the mat, and came back around with a roundhouse that landed flat to the middle of Corrado’s chest.

The force of the kick sent him hitting the mat, all the air rushing out of his chest in a loud whoosh at the same time. Alessio might have enjoyed the sight of the other man on the mat, blinking like he was trying to gain his bearings and figure out how this happened to him, but he didn’t get the chance.

Corrado swung his leg out, and swept Alessio’s feet right out from under him. In the next breath, he found himself on the mat, too. A rookie mistake, really. He never should have gotten close to a man on the ground unless he was willing to get down there with him.

Lesson number one.

Not that Alessio had the time to reflect on his mistake. Corrado had rolled over just as fast to pin him to the mat as fists rained down on his face—one after the other; smack, smack, smack, smack. The guy was fucking relentless, never letting up for even a second. Through his gloved hands, Alessio was struck by the intensity that sharpened Corrado’s features as he focused on his goal.

Alessio, that was.

And beating the hell out of him.

He’d be a damned liar if he said that hardness roughening the strong lines of Corrado’s face as he clenched his teeth—blood dripping down his full lips from an earlier punch compliments of Alessio—and the muscles of his arms and shoulders flexing with every punch didn’t do something for him.

Because it did.

Wicked things.

Sinful fucking things.

Godly things.

Alessio used a common maneuver that he’d been taught to flip the two of them over by wrapping his legs around Corrado’s back. Now, with him on top, he focused his efforts on getting the image of Corrado on top of him out of his mind and replacing it with the sight of him beating the hell out of him, instead.

Not that it worked.

Of course, it didn’t fucking work.

And unlike Alessio, Corrado didn’t use a move to try and right himself again, or to get the upper hand. Because he wasn’t trained, and he didn’t know how to get out of this. Instead, his body arched upward, all of his weight pressing against Alessio as he tried to force the man off. It didn’t work. Just like when he used his knees to push against Alessio’s stomach, it too was a dead effort.

All it served to do was get their bodies closer.

His fists rained down.

Corrado protected his face and tried harder to get away.

Still, hard lines met hard lines. Alessio was hyper aware of the way Corrado felt moving under him, never mind the fact that something felt hard against the curve of the backside of his thigh.

Alessio pushed his fingerless gloves hard against Corrado’s chest, his breaths coming out hard and fast because fuck … why was his body this tense—this hot? Beneath him, Corrado panted, too, his bloodstained teeth still clenched as he glared up at Alessio.

Corrado shifted again.

Alessio felt that again.

Time slowed, or that’s what it felt like. There was no hiding the erection he was sitting on, or the fact that his own cock was pressing against the seam of his jeans. He swore if he moved again—or Corrado, for that matter—he was going to explode.

What in the hell just happened?

“I fucking knew it,” Alessio whispered as Corrado tried to force him off again, but it only served to have the ridge of his erection pressing against his body again. “I knew it.”