Loving Kinnick

Watch Daddy Kiss The Feet Of A Delinquent

I trailed behind Kinnick, following him to the ring but not wanting to be beside him on our small five-foot trip. While he led John and me, I kept my focus on the decorations surrounding us. A neon gas-light in the shape of boxing gloves hung on the wall opposite of us. Newspaper clippings of famous 'Delphi Boxers,' were framed near the neon sign.

"John must love neon," I mumbled to myself.

The aesthetic is pleasing. A film covering the window made it appear darker inside of the gym. His sign and red spotlights dimly lit the room and it felt like an underground operation. While my eyes trailed back and forth, I collided with a firm figure.

"Do you need glasses?" Kinnick glared at me.

"Sorry," I gulped. "I didn't mean to."

I slowly stepped to the side, trying to put distance between us. He turned his attention to the ring where a group of men trained. They didn't pay attention to our presence.

"They look busy," I point out. "Can't we -"

"Everyone get the fuck out."

My eyes widened as his raspy voice boomed. The training boxers perked up, noticing Kinnick and without hesitation, they left. I mean, literally scurried out of the ring to make way for him. His blue eyes met mine but rolled away. He probably sensed my judgment. I couldn't help but frown on him and he didn't like it.

He hurled himself over the top ropes with ease. He motioned for me to get in. I looked around for stairs but realized there were none. The lack of entrance told me I had to pass on his offer.

If you've ever been in the deep end of a pool as a kid and had to hoist yourself out, you know how awkward it is when you can't get your leg high enough and everyone is watching you fail.

Sadly, I was the overweight child who had zero muscle and ended up rolling across the cement floor. But, here I am seventy-five pounds down and staring at the ring without steps with PTSD because I refuse to make a fool of myself.

"What are you doing?" Kinnick snapped. "Get in."

"Do you have any stairs?"

"Just pull yourself up."

"I don't have any muscle," I admit.

"Obviously, just grab the rope and lift up your leg."

"I'm not flexible."

"She's not going to last here," he turned to John.

John patted his shoulder. "I thought the same thing about you when your scrawny ass showed up at my doorstep."

"I knew how to fight."

"You didn't have a choice."

Kinnick rolled his eyes. "Spare me the details. She's barely even trying -"

"You're making her nervous!" He accused. "Now get down there and help your trainee into the ring."

"What am I going to do?"

"Lift her up," John's face screws up. "You bench press more than she weighs."

He motioned towards my dilemma with hilarity. Kinnick looked at me with annoyance. I felt the familiar flood of heat rush to my cheeks as he continued staring. The annoyance floated away as his cobalt blues flowed down my body. He kept eye contact until he slid out of the ring to meet me on the ground.

When he tried stepping behind me, I turned around to see what he was doing. He mumbled for me to stop being difficult as he gripped my hips. The harsh touch made me flinch. His eyebrows pinched together as he stared down at me with skepticism. His hold loosened, letting me breathe.