Quicky

Chapter 20 - Quick Relax

Mike opened the door and stepped aside.

Mia walked in, closing it behind her. A slim folder rested under one arm, and she looked at him with the same calm confidence she always carried.

"I talked to Coach," she said. "I'm officially your second for the Amateur Cup."

Mike blinked. "That was fast."

"He'd already made up his mind."

A smile tugged at the corner of Mike's mouth. "Guess I'm stuck with you now."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I haven't decided yet."

She rolled her eyes, but the faint smile on her face gave her away.

Mike turned toward the mini fridge. "Want something to drink?"

"Water."

He grabbed a bottle and tossed it over. Mia caught it with one hand, twisted off the cap, and took a sip. As she lowered the bottle, her attention shifted to the laptop on the bed.

Clark's fight footage was still frozen on the screen.

Without asking, she sat on the edge of the bed and leaned closer.

"Play it again."

Mike didn't move.

"You've already watched it at least ten times, haven't you?"

"Eleven."

"And?"

"And I still can't figure him out."

Mia held out her hand.

"Then start from the beginning."

Mike sat beside her and restarted the video.

They watched Clark move around the ring. Mia leaned closer to the screen, following his movements carefully. When Clark threw a combination, she lifted a finger toward the laptop.

"Stop there."

Mike paused the video.

"Look at his right elbow."

Mike frowned. "What about it?"

"It drops every time he finishes that hook." She tapped the screen. "He does it so naturally he probably doesn't even notice. If you catch the timing, you can come over the top before he gets his guard back."

Mike replayed the sequence.

There it was.

He watched it again, then slowed the footage down. "You're right."

"I know."

Mike glanced at her. "You could at least pretend to be humble."

"Why? You already know I'm right."

He shook his head and played the sequence again.

They both leaned toward the laptop, their shoulders brushing as they watched. Mia shifted slightly closer, trying to get a better look at Clark's footwork.

Mike barely noticed at first.

Then he felt her breasts against his arm.

His eyes stayed on the screen, but his focus didn't.

Mia kept talking, completely absorbed in the fight. "His feet are another problem. Look at how he resets after the combination. If you pressure him from this angle, he'll have to turn before he can counter."

Mike nodded, though he had missed half of what she said.

"You listening?"

"Yeah."

She looked at him.

Mike cleared his throat. "Mostly."

Mia narrowed her eyes. "Mostly?"

"Play it again."

A small smile appeared on her face.

"That's what I thought."

Mike's eyes were still supposed to be on the laptop screen, the grainy footage rolling, Mia's voice explaining the angles and the timing like a damn teacher. But she was too close. The heat of her body was right there, her shoulder brushing his, the soft press of her thigh against his on the couch.

His mind stopped tracking the video. Instead, it locked onto her, the curve of her breast under that thin top, the way it rose with every breath. The narrow waist. The flare of her hips. The long line of her legs.

He dragged his gaze slowly down and back up, taking his time, memorizing the shape of her like he was starving for it. Blood dumped straight into his cock, and he felt it thicken, push against the front of his shorts, the outline becoming obvious. Heat crawled low in his gut and settled heavy between his legs.

He wasn't listening anymore. Not a single fucking word. He shifted just a little, closing the last bit of space so his leg pressed harder against hers.

Mia's voice kept going for another second. Then her eyes flicked down; she saw the bulge but didn't pull away. Didn't even pause; rather, her hand landed on his thigh, warm and deliberate, and started sliding higher.

Slowly, her fingers traced the hard muscle until her palm settled over the thick peak of his cock through the fabric. She gave it a firm, slow stroke, up and down, like she was just absently petting him while she kept staring at the screen and talking about the footage as if nothing had changed at all.

Mike's control snapped. He turned hard, one hand sliding up the back of her neck, and crushed his mouth to hers. Mia kissed him back instantly, hungry, open, her tongue meeting his like she'd been waiting for it. The water bottle slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud as he pushed her down onto the bed. He yanked her top up over her breasts, the soft weight of them spilling free, and closed his mouth over one tight nipple, sucking hard while his other hand shoved her shorts and panties down her legs in one rough pull. Mia lifted her hips to help, kicking the clothes free.

He shoved his own shorts down just enough, freed his cock, and sank into her in one long steady thrust. She was soaked, the wet heat gripping him tight the second he pushed inside. A short, broken sound left her throat as her legs locked around his waist. Mike drove into her hard and deep, the bed creaking under them, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. She clung to his shoulders and rolled her hips up to meet him, breath turning into short hot moans against his ear.

It didn't last long. All the earlier teasing had him wound too tight, and the pressure surged fast. He buried himself deep and spilled inside her with a low groan, heat flooding her as her body clenched hard around him a second later. She came shaking, nails scraping down his back while the aftershocks rolled through her.

They stayed locked together for a few breaths and rolled onto his side. A blue window flickered into existence above the bed.

[Mia – Interest: 90%]

[Girlfriend route available at any moment]

Mike finished reading the lines and glanced at Mia. Her eyes were already half closed, her head dipping a little as she fought to stay awake.

"You falling asleep?" he asked.

"Maybe," she murmured.

A faint smile crossed Mike's face. He shifted closer, slipped an arm around her shoulders, and gently pulled her against his chest. Mia didn't resist. She settled comfortably against him, resting her head on his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The laptop still sat open on the bed, Clark frozen in the middle of a punch. Neither of them looked at the screen anymore. The footage, the strategy, the coming fight—none of it seemed important in that quiet moment.

Mike let out a slow breath and rested his cheek lightly against her hair. Feeling her warmth beside him, he finally allowed himself to relax. His eyes grew heavy, and before long, sleep claimed them both.

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