Redemption

by Shey Stahl

  I screamed out, arching my back and then reaching behind me to grip the cheeks of my ass. Destry moved his hands from my hips to my hands and held them together in his right hand, his left pulling my hair.

  After what seemed like twenty minutes—the best twenty minutes I’d ever spent with my face pressed into the canvas—he increased his pace slightly. “Is this what you wanted, Tallan? You wanted me to fuck you?”

  “Yes!” My words were ripped from my throat when he pounded into me. I could barely get them out. He drove into me so deep and powerful that it hurt, but I didn’t want him to stop.

  “Take it.” He noticed and growled, “You wanted it. Take it.”

  I worked my hips into his movements, enjoying every last sensation of that amazing orgasm when he pushed deeper, seeming to enjoy that.

  He let go of my hair when his hips moved faster and then he pushed down on my ass, slamming into me three more times. I turned my head slightly to see him come for a second time, only his head was thrown back as he groaned.

  He swelled inside me. Every muscle tensed in his body as his jaw clenched, and then he jerked forward once more. It was then our eyes met, his expression dark, hiding emotions I knew he didn’t want me seeing. I’d give anything to know his thoughts right then.

  When he pulled out, my body shook so badly I wouldn’t be able to stand. Good thing I was face down on the ring.

  I’d been fucked for sure.

  A barnburner is a very good fight. One that is very intense and exciting, a real nail-biter. A fight that is so close, it's hard to predict who will come out the winner until seconds before it ends.

  “Oh God, you had sex with him, didn’t you?”

  I nodded. I couldn’t lie to Jared. He knew my afterglow. Sadly. There was no sense denying it. I didn’t want to either. It was one of those nights I wanted to shout about from the roof tops.

  He smiled and I wanted to punch him. He had this dirty grin that was actually kind of cute. And comical. “Were you drunk?”

  “Yep.” I held an ice bag to my head, a bottle of water in my other hand.

  An even wider smile formed. “Did you ask him if he wanted to go to a clam bake like you did to me?”

  “No.” I sighed, getting ready to admit what I did last night. “But I tried to wrestle him and then punched him in the face.”

  Jared apparently thought this was the most amusing thing he’d ever heard. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. But that was the best sex of my life.”

  Jared—in a dramatic gesture—flopped his arms up in the air and then sighed. “You’ve crushed my soul!”

  I reached over and patted his head, more concerned with my current situation than Jared’s ego. This was so far out of my realm. Sure, I’d had one-night stands before but never thought about them the next day.

  With Destry, his touch, that roughness, his eyes, the words he said, they were never far from my mind this morning. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do. But I had two days to think about it. My workouts were on hiatus until Thursday.

  What was I doing though? Here I hired this guy, decided to write a story on him, without his knowledge, and now I was having sex with him. Or had sex with him.

  And now I was hoping that it happened again. The thought of never experiencing what we shared again was actually starting to depress me.

  But I couldn’t be that girl. Could I?

  The one who slept with some random person one night and the next night was with someone else. Sure, I was horny, and yes, Destry was fan-fucking-tastic in the ring—in more ways than one—but knowing how different the sex was with Destry versus what I vaguely remember of the intimate moments five years ago that I’d shared with Silas, well, there was no comparison.

  What was I doing? Was Destry expecting more from me? Was I something he needed to get out of his system? I was so confused. Could I continue training with Destry with both of us knowing my final destination, where this would end? I couldn’t not meet Silas.

  But could I walk away from Destry… to meet Silas?

  I was impatient. Very impatient. When I had something to do that I was looking forward to, I wanted to fast-forward time. Ever since Silas called, I wanted to do that.

  Until I had sex with Destry. Now it seemed I didn’t want the time to go by faster anymore. I wanted to stop it and figure out what was happening.

  And have sex with him again.

  Maybe a few times.

  “Jared?”

  He yawned beside me. “Yeah?”

  “Is casual sex with someone a bad thing?”

  He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Sex, in any context, is never a bad idea.”

  Well, at least I had my answer. That’s all this was. Casual sex and I didn’t need to fear it. I doubt it meant anything to Destry anyway.

  Clinching is a life-saving technique in boxing. Consisting of restricting your opponent’s arm movements in disadvantageous situations (e.g. on the verge of a KO or to regain stamina at the final rounds).

  I didn’t work out Tuesday and Wednesday, and after that night drinking—and being with Destry—I needed that break more than ever. I never heard from him other than a text telling me to meet him at the bar at seven on Thursday. I wanted to reply to the text and say so much, cheesy shit like “Best night of my life!” but I also didn’t want to appear too eager.

  I had to play this cool. I didn’t want to be clingy. I needed to up my game and practice that indifference Destry was so good at.

  When I met him at the bar on Thursday night, I was both anxious and excited to see him. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest, hammering so loud it was all I could hear. With each step down to the basement, my hands shook. As I pressed forward, the heavy black metal door squeaked as I pushed it open.

  My eyes remained on the concrete floor watching my steps, knowing he was down here. I was afraid to look. Flashes of our last night here swarmed around in my head. The way his hands roamed over my body, the tender way he kissed me, the roughness of his touch, everything about that night was so much more than I expected it to be.

  When I finally did look up, he was there, sitting against the wall with his gloves beside him, un-taping his hands, the white tape in a pile beside his thigh.

  He heard the door open and looked up at me, his eyes traveling slowly up my body as my skin heated under his scorching gaze. He let out a long sigh when we looked at each other, a smile playing at his lips. “Hey.”

  What did that sigh mean? What did that stare mean? Did he regret it?

  Just hearing his voice, immediately every single detail of Monday night returned.

  “Hey,” I said, mirroring the smile and sitting next to him on the floor, making sure my elbow touched his. “I, uh…” for some reason I thought I needed to explain myself for my actions Monday night. “I don’t normally act like that. Must have been the vodka.”

  “Don’t make an excuse.” He sounded irritated that I would. “You weren’t that drunk.”

  A rush of nerves settled over me. “No… I suppose I wasn’t.”

  Destry breathed, slow and deep, but kept his eyes on his hands and the tape. “Do you regret it?” he asked quietly, with a vulnerability I didn’t expect.

  “No.” I didn’t either. Not in the slightest. “But I also don’t want the awkwardness that seems to be floating around us.”

  He nodded, tossing the remaining piece of tape aside and then his hand rose to run up and down his jaw, as though he was thinking. When I looked over at him, waiting for him to say something, Destry laughed lightly and then took a deep breath. “Well, let’s get started then. I’m sure I can make you forget about the awkwardness.”

  So, he didn’t want awkwardness either. I was cool with that because it seemed it was everywhere.

  We started the workout with arms, alternating bench press, resistance band, free weights, pull-ups, arm curls, and rope climbing. That part I did not enjoy. He worked my ass off.
r />   My muscles shook, I was sweating badly, and my skin burned, as if I had a sunburn and it was two hundred degrees. Part of me didn’t want him seeing me all hot and sweaty like that, but his eyes were never far from my body.

  Despite working my ass off, believe me when I say I watched Destry closely, wondering what he was thinking and if he regretted anything we did the other night. I doubted he did, but I still couldn’t help myself from being curious about it.

  He asked me if I regretted it, but I hadn’t asked him.

  Did he?

  My mind wouldn’t stop.

  As I sat there against the wall, trying to catch my breath, Destry approached, scratching his bare stomach with casualness. He smiled, a beaming smile, and tipped his head to the door. “Let’s go for a walk to stretch out your muscles a little.”

  “I can’t run.” I stood when he reached out and helped me up. “Please don’t make me.”

  “Promise, no run. Just walking.”

  Watching him now, his stare on my body, there was something more than I had in the past few years. Something stirring deep inside my gut. I was content, relaxed, and comfortable not knowing what the future held for me.

  And for a someone like me, that was rare. I had to know, but this, I was leaving it up to chance. I had no idea how Destry felt about what we did, and now, strangely enough, I was okay with that. I wasn’t going to even ask him.

  We ended up going for a walk at night again. I was starting to enjoy the late night in the city. He took me up the pier instead of back to the bar. Our walk slowed to a dawdling pace when our feet hit the wooden planks of the pier. A steady, easy mist started to fall—refreshing and calming. After all the sweating I’d done, I could taste the salt on my lips when the rain hit my skin.

  He pointed toward Pier 57, brushing his damp hair from his face. “I once jumped off that pier.” He chuckled, leaning over the cracked wood and peering at the darkness below. “Broke my damn arm.”

  I stopped beside him, our forearms touching. I inhaled cool salty air. “How’d you break your arm?” On the water, lights flickered over Elliott Bay, creating a peaceful night, one I was used to seeing.

  Destry pointed below. “There are rocks down there.”

  “Oh.” I peeked over the side to see the shadows of large black rocks. I knew there was but most of the time the water was plenty deep enough to avoid them. “Why exactly did you do that?”

  “I was ten.” He shrugged, hanging onto the rail and then leaning back to stretch his arms, his muscles flexing as he did so. “I didn’t know you shouldn’t jump straight down.”

  That didn’t surprise me. Destry seemed very much a daredevil. The kind of guy who would try anything at least once.

  For the first time since I’d met him, he spoke about his dad. “My dad and I used to run that very same route we took.” He shook his head solemnly, but he seemed composed as he spoke. “Three times a week, rain or shine, it was our thing.”

  I knew enough from my research the last few days that James Stone, Destry’s father, was still alive but in an assisted living facility since he retired from boxing.

  “Are you close with your parents?”

  He appeared caught off guard by my question and reluctant to answer for a moment. “My mom left when I was seven or eight. I don’t remember. She split about the time my dad started trying to drink himself numb. And my dad… he’s not the same anymore. When he got sick… well, he’s not himself anymore. Not only did he never take care of himself and manage his disease, but he’s mentally gone.” Destry’s eyes were distant as he spoke, focused on the water.

  “What happened to him?” I asked hesitantly, wondering at what point he would shut down and tell me to mind my own business.

  His shoulders slumped as he leaned over the wooden rail, eyes fixed on the darkness below. “When I was thirteen, he was diagnosed with acromegaly.”

  “What’s that?” There wasn’t any information online as to why James stepped away from boxing, just that he did. I had no idea what the reasoning was, and I’d never heard of this disease Destry was telling me he suffered from.

  Destry stood straighter, running his left hand from his hair and then replacing it on the rail. “It’s a hormonal disorder that develops when your pituitary gland produces too much growth hormone. He has a pituitary tumor that caused it. He also has diabetes from the acromegaly, and arthritis.”

  “Wow. It causes diabetes?”

  Destry shrugged. “Not always, but it’s common. That’s not what’s given him trouble though. Acromegaly causes your body to grow, hands, feet, jaw, because of the increased growth hormone. Even your internal organs enlarge. It’s not uncommon to have cardiovascular problems. He had a stroke about six months ago and he can’t even remember my name, let alone who I am. Totally sucks.”

  My heart felt like I’d been kicked by a horse. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged again. “Nothing you can do about it.”

  “So, where is he now?”

  “He’s in a home in Bellevue, where they can help him. I go see him on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

  “Did he retire because of the disease?”

  “Partly. It was argued that he had an unfair advantage because of the growth hormone being produced in his body. But in the end, he walked away on his own.” Destry sighed, leaning forward on the rail again, his eyes distant. “Can’t say I blame him.”

  Maybe I’d overstepped there. Although I couldn’t believe how exposed and honest he was with me, all of a sudden.

  He turned, facing the street, and nodded. “Let’s get back.”

  We left and returned to the bar and downstairs to the basement. When I reached for my bag part of me was anxious about leaving him. I wanted… well, sex. I was tempted to get down on my knees and beg him for a repeat. I maintained my composure, unsure of what he’d say next. “We finished?”

  “No, we’re not finished.” He moved away from the wall and locked the door. “We’re definitely not finished for the night.”

  Thank you, Jesus!

  When he stepped toward me, I had to put my hands up. “I don’t want to do it in the ring again. I have burns on my ass from that damn thing.”

  “A bed I can do,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin of my neck below my ear, pressing his chest to mine.

  I would do anything he wanted right then. Anything.

  “Your apartment or mine?”

  “Mine.” I practically jumped in his arms. “It’s closer.”

  The heaviest competition class. For boxers weighing more than 175 pounds. There’s a certain allure to this division since these larger boxers have an innate advantage over smaller ones. This is why fighting between weight classes is not allowed, and in fact, why the weight class system was adopted in the first place.

  Thank God Jared wasn’t there because by the time we arrived at my apartment, we were so worked up we were knocking over pictures, ran into the coffee table, dry-humped against the wall, and broke a glass.

  Destry was all hands on and pushing me inside my bedroom door, trying to rip away my clothes and his, only I was in desperate need of a shower. “I should shower.”

  “I could join you.” He suggested hungrily, kissing up and down my neck. “Nah, no shower. I can’t fucking wait any longer.”

  “Sure, you can,” I said, pushing him back against my bed. His shirt was gone, mine was ripped, and his shorts were already half off, his erection evident. I still had my yoga pants on but those were being pushed off by needy hands.

  “No. Fuck the shower.” He sat up and wrapped his hands around my waist, bringing my center to his face. “I can’t. I don’t care if you’re sweaty. I need you… right now.”

  There was no denying him when he grabbed my legs behind my knees and made me straddle him. Lying back on the bed, he rocked my hips against his, sliding me along his erection. Groaning, his head tipped back, the tendons in his neck evident.

  Destry was anything but gentle. And
I wasn’t looking for gentle when I was with him. Far from it. I was looking for what this heavyweight could provide. His kiss was so damn consuming, like he was breathing life back into me.

  Everything felt different this time and then my reality came crashing back. For one, I wasn’t drunk. I kept trying to cover myself up, hide what he was seeing, but he kept moving my hands aside and getting frustrated that I would hide myself from him.

  “Don’t hide from me.” He drew back to look at me. My entire body shivered, and to be fair, his breathing was rather heavy, his eyes extremely hooded, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. “I like women, not little girls.”

  He had a point there, but it still wasn’t easy for me. It never would be. I had this idea of what I should look like, what Destry would want someone to look like, what Silas would, and I wasn’t anywhere near that image.

  Smiling, his eyes dropped to my lips. “You’re beautiful and perfect.”

  My cheeks flushed and I think he was aware of the fact that I couldn’t take compliments well.

  His fingers raised my chin, forcing me to meet his stare. “I fucking mean it.”

  It wasn’t exactly a graceful moment of mine, but I went to roll off him, and rolled right off my own bed. I flopped my hands over my face. “That was embarrassing.”

  He peered over the side of the bed, chuckling. “Beautiful, but extremely uncoordinated.”

  “Thanks.”

  He helped me up and then laid me on the center of my bed, hovering over me. “Condom?”

  “They’re in the nightstand… but I’m on the pill. And clean. Are you?”

  His eyes drifted to mine. “I was tested a few months ago. Clean.”

  Apparently okay with that, nothing more was said as he yanked his shorts down in one fluid movement and leaned back on his heels, jerking me off the bed and back to straddling his hips, my legs resting on either side on him.

  “Fuck me, Tallan.” His left hand reached between us and slipped himself inside and then rolled us so I was on top of him.

  The moment he was inside me again, I never wanted it to end. I couldn’t get enough of him. My body found something it actually craved. “Mmm,” I moaned, wrapping my arms around his neck, his lips returning to mine. I did as he said. All the while he watched me with an unfamiliar intensity.