I don't mind where Gunner's mouth is and how he's pleasuring me by exercising his tongue. It was invigorating, sensual, and exciting until now. Now, he's biting and tugging, all while finger blasting me, doing everything he can to get me to talk. I panted and squealed. Whimpered and groaned. And the more I begged and squirmed, the harder he bit and tugged, and the firmer he held me in place.

I wanted to tell him what I've been going through, but I'm afraid he'll be disappointed in me after how far I've come. I don't like that I'm hiding anything from him, and I understand he wants to know what's going on to try to help, but I feel this is a battle I need to figure out on my own.

"Gunner, please. Stop. I can't take it anymore," I demandingly whined while trying to free my handcuffed wrists from the bike.

I felt like a brick. And I hated that I couldn't move. I was handcuffed and secured to the bike; Gunner held me tight and put all his weight on me—locking me into place. And because he insisted on ignoring my pleads to stop, I yelled the one word I hadn't used in over a year. Actually, it's been almost two years, "Beetlejuice!"

I wasn't sure if the word still stood, but I figured I'd say it to see what he'd do. I knew what Gunner was trying to do, and if he assumed it'd work, he had another thing coming because it won't.

Gunner's tongue lashing stopped by saying the safeword. His fingers pulled out of me, and then he groaned, "I'll stop. But I will give you ten seconds only to admit what's been bothering you."

I sighed. "Gunner. It's nothing. Really."

"Nine... Eight... Seven... Six-" he counted slowly. And by the sounds of his breathing told me that if I don't confess, he'll get back to doing what he was.

"Fine," I hissed, stopping him from his count down.

Why does he have to be so damn stubborn?

Can't a woman have something on their mind without having to talk about what's bothering them? Especially my situation. The last thing I wanted was for him to look at me differently because my parents hadn't been in the picture for years, and I was allowing them to preoccupy my mind. 

"Well?" Gunner impatiently asked after I paused to think about how to tell him without him getting upset.

After ruminating on everything bothering me, I finally admitted, "I've been thinking a lot about my father and what he did to my brother and me. What he's missed out on with us over the years, what he did to my mother. And the reason she's where she is today."

A sound of disappointment appeared in his voice. "Why? Why now, after all this time?"

My shoulders slowly raised and fell while taking slow, deep breaths. I don't know why I've been thinking about them the way I have, but I have, and I can't seem to get any of those memories to leave my mind. "I've always thought about my parents. Just not as much as I have been lately. And I noticed how it's worsened after having Wyatt."

I sighed when he leaned over me, thinking he wasn't happy with my admission and would continue punishing me for allowing my parents to consume my mind, which has caused me to become a bit distant from everyone who loves me. But he freed the blindfold instead. "Thank you," I breathed in relief.

"You're welcome, but the handcuffs will stay where they are until you've told me everything."

I figured as much.

"But I'll warn you that if you don't tell me everything you've held to secrecy, the blindfold will go back on, and the punishment will continue until everything is out in the open."

I looked away from him and over to where he proposed. "My parents are the biggest reason I agreed to Neron training me and putting me in the ring. I felt it would be a great and simple way to take out my frustrations—looking at my challenger and visualizing them as my father, his wife, or my mother. But more so, looking at my competitor as if it were my father's wife's face," I sadly admitted, looking back at Gunner.

"Why didn't you tell me about all of this? Why hold it in that's making your life a living hell?"

I shrugged.

"I'm your husband, Aria. You should be talking to me about anything and everything bothering you."

"I know," I whispered. "I wanted to. But I couldn't, and I tried everything I could think of to quit thinking about them. But nothing I seemed to do helped."

"Is that why I've caught you in the middle of the night, down in our gym, punching the heavy bag and speed bags and working out like your life's depended on it?"

"Sometimes, yes. Other times it was because I couldn't sleep."

"Is there anything else bothering you? Or is it just your parents?" Gunner asked, hinting that he feels he's another reason for my actions lately.

"Just them," I assured him, hoping he'd believe me because, if Gunner thinks he's also part of the problem, he's wrong. He's not.

"So my question is, since you've been thinking about them, are you hoping to see or visit them?"

My head shook no, but my mind said yes—insisting that I confront my father and ask his reasoning as to why he abandoned my brother and me. I've tried visiting my mother numerous times, and every time I have gone to see her, they turn me away with the excuse that she doesn't want to see me.

"Aria. If you want to see them. Then see them. It might even make you feel better," he surprisingly encouraged. "Maybe you'll finally hear all the answers you've wished to hear."

"I've already tried visiting my mother. She refuses to see me. And as for my father, I have no fucking clue where he is. I've looked, searched, and googled his name. I've also called everyone I know who knows him, my family, his friends, and the people I remember him working with. Nobody knows anything... so fuck him. I don't need him in my life," I tried telling myself, but I don't think it got very far because I still would like to exchange some words with him and his selfish young wife.

Gunner got off his bike, walked behind me, and lowered, unlocking the handcuffs and removing them from my wrists.

Ahh...

Relief...

I raised my arms and moved my wrists around, trying to soothe them after being restrained for so long.

Gunner offered his hand, and when I placed mine in his, he helped me off and walked me over to the couch. As he sat, he guided me onto his lap. "I don't want you keeping anything from me anymore. We're a team, so you need to know that I'm here for you whenever you need me," he quietly said, feather kissing the backside of my neck, activating the goose pimples to pierce my skin. "We're in this together, hun, and I'm here to help you get through whatever you need help with. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I mean it. And I want you to know and can promise you this if you want to see your father after you find him or visit your mother if she changes her mind and wants to see you. I'm coming along because I want to be right by your side, giving my wife the support she needs."

I knew that was something I wouldn't have to worry about, but if I were ever to visit my parents, I'd rather go alone. I don't want my father to see or know who's in my life. He hasn't cared for twenty years; why would he now? And as for my mother? I don't need or want her to go back to where she was if she sees that I have someone I love dearly in my life. Knowing her, she might accuse Gunner of being just like my father.

"We should get back home. I didn't pump much milk for Justin, and Wyatt's probably hungry."

He lowered me to the couch, hovered over me, and stared deeply into my eyes. "No more secrets, Aria. Remember, we're in this together. I won't tell you to quit thinking about them because I know you'll continue doing it. But I will ask that you try to put them behind you and look towards the future. And I'd like to ask if that's the only reason you took on fighting in the ring; I want you to give it up. I don't like seeing my wife's face bloodied, bludgeoned, and broken, anyway."

Before I could respond to his requests, Gunner covered my mouth with his and took me to the one world I always enjoyed being in. A world full of endless clouds, mountains, waterfalls, and beautiful flowers.

A place I call paradise—mine and Gunner's paradise.

***

Ha! Ha! Justin laughed at me.

"I told you, you would puke! You never listen to what anyone ever tells you! You're the most stubborn girl I've ever known!"

I clenched my fists, narrowed my eyes, and yelled, "Shut up, Justin!"

"You can't handle anything. You're the biggest wimp ever known, and everyone knows it!"

"I am not."

"You are, too," he argued with a massive grin on his face that I desperately wanted to smack right off and make him cry for once.

We argued back and forth until the ride was over, and after the worker freed us and helped me off the ride, I stepped in front of Justin while forming my hand into a fist, and then I punched him in the mouth.

"What was that for?" Justin yelled as he rubbed his mouth.

"Because you were making fun of me."

I wasn't sure if my father saw me puke while the ride was moving. But I know he saw me punch Justin in the mouth because when we started walking towards the exit, and I looked at my father, I noticed the angry look in his eyes. He was pissed. And when we finally got to him, he angrily grabbed my hand and pulled me to his side. Then he grabbed Justin's hand, pulled him to his other side, and looked from me to Justin, yelling at us in front of everyone.

I cried and pointed over at Justin. "He started it. He was making fun of me!"

My father let go of my hand and repeatedly pointed at me. "I don't care who started it. You don't hit your brother!"

I stomped my foot. "But dad!"

"I don't want to hear another word from either of you. We're leaving!"

Justin looked behind my father and over at me with a smirk. I knew if I said anything more, my father would cause another big scene in front of everyone. So instead, using my free hand, I maneuvered it around me and behind my father's back and gave my brother the finger.

Justin smiled and laughed.

At that point, I didn't care if my father saw me giving him the middle finger. And I felt that way because if he were to ask where I learned it from. I'd tell him the truth to get Justin in trouble—admitting that Justin taught it to me and educating me about it.

But I never got the opportunity to tattle on him because my father never saw how mad I was when I showed Justin the finger.

On the way back to my father's house, my father was quiet, I was quiet, and then there was Justin, doing everything he could to get me in trouble. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him making faces, sticking out his tongue while spreading his lips wide with his fingers, and quietly saying my name. He wanted me to look and snap at him to upset my father more than he already was at us.

I caved to Justin.

And when I looked at him, I reached and shoved him against the side of the door. "Stop making faces at me," I whispered loudly. Loud enough for my father to hear, upsetting him where he pulled the car over to the side of the road and then turned around.

"What did I tell you two?"

"He's teasing me again."

It didn't matter what I said. My father always took my brother's side. And that hurt he never considered my feelings or how Justin was constantly tormenting me to rile me up so I'd get in trouble. Every. Damn. Time. So, after my father finished yelling at me, I tempestuously crossed my arms against my chest and quietly looked out the window until we got home.

When my brother and I walked into his new home, someone I didn't recognize, a woman came out of the kitchen—a young woman holding a baby girl.

My eyes widened, and then I looked from Justin to my father and then to the woman. "Who are you?" I asked, staring at her and blinking like I had something sharp in my eye. Trying to figure out who she was.

"Hello, Aria. It's nice to meet you finally." She looked at my brother next, smiling. "And same to you, Justin. I've heard so much about both of you."

I looked at Justin and my father, feeling even more puzzled. My father walked over to the woman holding the baby. Then he wrapped his arm around her waist, smiling as he tightened her to his hip. Although, it wasn't a happy smile. It looked more like a nervous smile. Afraid to admit who she was. "This is Stacey," he finally told us.

"Stacey?"

"I'm your dad's girlfriend," she said happily, proudly smiling, knowing that she had just ruined my life.

My heart stopped beating, my stomach sunk, and the next thing I felt happening was that I was about to empty my insides on his new wood flooring.

"What about mom?" I asked, looking at Justin.

Justin looked at me, then at my dad. "You're an asshole!"

***

Wyatt thought it would be an excellent idea to wake me up at two in the morning to eat and play—assuming it's morning time. Or it's because he's playing games with me, games he picked up on by hanging out with Walter. Then after an hour of doing everything I could to tire him out, I finally got him to fall asleep. And after laying him in his crib, I laid back in bed and closed my eyes. But because I couldn't fall asleep to save my life, I opened them and stared at Gunner for a while—hoping that would help my mind shut down and help me fall asleep.

As I watched him sleep, I thought about what he said and his offer to me earlier—about being by my side when I visit my parents. I don't really want to see my father, yet I do. But I'd really like to see my mother and see how much she's progressed. If she even has. Even if she hasn't, I'd still like to see her.

Not wanting to wake Gunner, I quietly slid out of bed, then slowly crept out of the room to head to our workout area. I slowly tiptoed through the hallway, but when I got to Wyatt's room, I stopped and listened to make sure he was still asleep. Then, after not hearing anything, I continued walking while constantly looking behind me. Knowing Gunner, I'm sure he opened his eyes when I crawled out of bed and watched me leave the room.

And now my gut is telling me Gunner will be joining me soon.

After warming up, I walked over to the heavy bag and began doing everything Neron had been teaching me lately, punching and kicking and alternating my punches and kicks in the air. I was also practicing new moves that I had figured out on my own to show Gunner and Neron. And I was on a roll with all the motions until I jumped again and spun to kick the bag, but this time it held still when my foot hit the heavy bag.

I knew it.

Somehow, Gunner managed to sneak behind the bag without me seeing—joining me as I suspected he would.

"Did I wake you?" I asked, stepping away from the bag.

He peeked his head around the bag, shaking his head, and I bit the inside of my cheek when he responded. "No, you didn't wake me. I had a feeling you'd end up coming down here after getting Wyatt back to sleep. It seems to be the thing with you lately. So when you came back to bed, I was curious about what you'd do and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep... and when you tried being sneaky when you snuck out of the room, I knew exactly where you were heading."

I should have known he wasn't asleep. Now that I think about watching him sleep and seeing how he was breathing, I should have known. His breathing wasn't of one who was sleeping; it was pretending to be asleep type of breathing. And because I had noticed that, I should have picked up on it and asked if he wanted to join me before coming down here. I'm in the mood for sparing with someone, anyway. And since it's in the middle of the night, and Neron isn't here for me to mess with, Gunner's the next best thing to spar with. 

Only, I can't be as mean to him as I am to Neron.

The corner of my lips raised when he walked away and over to the music player to turn on music. Of course, he turned on Metallica, his fighting music, so my eyes stayed on him when he turned around and walked toward me—causing my stomach to take a considerable dive. All it takes for me to get revved up inside is to look at him. His very toned, rock-hardened abs, muscular arms, and outline of his enormous manhood showing nicely through his workout shorts get me giddy and wet every time.

I cleared my throat, trying to rid my naughty thoughts, when he stopped in front of me. And because of how loud he had the music, I had to ask, "What about Wyatt?"

"What do you mean? He's asleep."

"The music. What if we wake him or Walter?"

He chuckled. "We're two stories down from them. Besides, Walter can't hear, and Wyatt will be out for the rest of the night. And if he does wake up, he'll go right back asleep. They'll be fine..." he emphasized, leaning his head closer to mine with a smile that had my lower lips smiling—a beautiful, wicked smile. "Feel like kicking my ass?"

"Sure," I giggled, then turned to the music player. "But before I get inside the ring with you. I want to turn on some different music. Metallica is your fighting music; I need something that will fuel me, not you."

He extended his arm towards the player and winked. "She's all yours."

Since I couldn't think of an entrance song, Gunner had picked one out for my first fight—Eye Of The Tiger. Although I liked the song he chose and its meaning—no matter how much pain there is—the reward will be waiting for you in the end. But it's Rocky's song, not mine. I wanted something different, so since my last fight, I've been thinking hard about the piece that'll fit me—a warning to the other fighter about how I am, and now that I finally figured out what that one is, I wanted Gunner to hear it to see what he thinks.

I grinned as I hit play, then, wanting to look tough, I turned that grin into a straight face when I turned around. I headed toward the ring, and when I entered, I met Gunner at the center and held up my fists.

He held up his hands, showing me his gloves, making me think he'll be giving me one hell of a challenge, and grinned an evil yet playful smile while moving around. "Thunderstruck?"

"I figured out my entrance song, and I wanted you to hear it. What do you think? Will this one work?" I asked, smiling while swinging a fist his way and Gunner blocking it. I wanted to knock him out right away and did a one-two combo—jab-cross, but he blocked it again.

"Come on, Aria. I like the song choice you chose, so I want you to bring on the thunder if this is what you want. And I want you to get me to be shaking at the knees," he urged playfully.

If that's what he wants, then that's what he'll get.

I right hooked; he blocked. So then, I did my famous left hook, and he blocked it again. And then, wishing to surprise him with hopes of knocking him down, I tricked him by bolo punching him. 

Gunner chuckled. He was amused and surprised by my punch, which I've been working hard on, one I taught myself without Gunner and Neron knowing. "Sugar Ray Leonard punch. I like it. What else you got for me?" he mocked, egging me on.

The more he poked fun at me, the more I swung my fists at him, and the closer I got him towards the ropes. I enjoyed swinging my fists at him and showing him my moves, but it pissed me off he wouldn't take any swings at me. 

I wanted a challenge, and he wouldn't give me what I was looking for.

Then he played possum, and my amateur ass fell for it when I stopped and lowered my fists. I tilted my head and looked at him, feeling confused. "Are you tired, or what?"

He lifted a brow, amusingly asking, "Me? Tired? Why would you think that?"

"Because you're not allowing me to experience your hits. I want to try blocking your punches, and now you're standing still, looking like a damn zombie when you look at me."

He chuckled, then warned, "Never question your opponent if they're tired. You'll lose the fight," he said with satisfaction, and now I know why. He clenched my arms to the side of my body, locked me into place, and then swung his leg around—knocking me down and falling on top of me.

He lifted his head and enlightened me with a sparkle in his eye and a broad smile that had me wishing I never stopped showing him my newfound strength. "Now, do you see why I said never to question another player's actions?"

"I'd never question my opponent. I only asked if you were tired because of the time. Plus, you were standing still, not doing a damn thing," I hissed, trying to turn it around, not wanting him thinking it would be something I'd do, which it wouldn't be. I'm smarter than that.

Gunner's lip twitched.

That's when I knew he was messing with me and figured out what he was doing. Instead of using the bags, he wanted me to take my frustrations out on him. He gently swiped his glove across my face, pushing stray hairs covering my face away, and then he lowered his mouth and lovingly kissed me.

"Do you feel better now?"

"A little. But next time, challenge me," I begged.

"I'm not hitting my wife."

Ugh!

"How else will I learn how to block someone faster than me?"

"You'll learn."

I sighed.

It wasn't the answer I wanted to hear. Then Gunner gave me an excellent idea of what he said next.

"Have Justin get in the ring with you. He likes to fight."

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!🤞🤞