by Shey Stahl
Fuck, what is happening to me? How the hell was he managing to do this to me and make me feel this?
Destry’s left hand traveled from my hips before he rolled me over so he was on top of me. Soon, his hands fisted my hair, and I was internally praising myself for the sounds he was making. He was obviously trying to restrain himself and it wasn’t working at all.
My eyelids clenched and my stomach tingled as Destry whispered in my ear, “You know how fucking insane you make me?” he growled, his teeth nipping at my heated wet skin. “Do you know?”
I smiled, sliding my hands up his neck into his hair. “Maybe,” I breathed, hopeful that it was the truth. I wanted to make a guy like Destry go insane because it seemed like an impossible feat.
“Maybe?” he echoed, pulling back, watching my eyes. His left eyebrow rose. “Haven’t I made myself pretty clear here?”
I dragged my right hand from the back of his head, down his chest. “We’re here, aren’t we? But show me how insane I make you,” I whispered. “I want to know.”
Destry growled, shaking his head and catching my hand and putting it over my head to rest against the pillows. Gripping my wrist firmly, his other hand remained on my ass.
Pushing harder and faster, he leaned his forehead against my cheek, his hair falling in my eyes.
“Show me.” I untangled my hands from his. “Make me feel what I do to you.”
He laughed, a darker menacing laugh with undertones that seemed more threatening and less of a warning. He didn’t scare me; in fact, everything he did turned me on even more. “Don’t push me.” Destry closed his eyes and groaned. His head fell forward against my shoulder, and he shook it back and forth.
Taking a firm grasp on my hip with the hand that wasn’t tangled in my hair, he brought his soft wet lips down to my shoulder, biting and kissing his way along the top of my collarbone.
I pushed and he pinned, easily keeping my hands from him and overpowering me like only he could do. “Do you know what I’m capable of? The pain I can cause?” His breathing was shallow, much like my own. He was so far past being in control, every bit as defenseless and dependent as me.
There was something in his words I didn’t understand though. A deeper meaning. I had a feeling the pain he spoke of wasn’t physical. Despite me provoking him, he moved at his own pace, holding me tight, dropping his voice as his body rocked against me. He knew exactly what he was doing. His words, his touch, his kisses were everywhere, demonstrating to me exactly what I had been missing and what I was now looking forward to every time I saw him.
It was somewhere after my third orgasm when I could tell he was moments away from his release by the tensed expression and lust-hooded eyes that held me in his grasp. His hands came up to wrap around the back of my shoulders and pushed me down on him once more. With another forceful thrust, he released inside me as he bit down on my shoulder, crying out at the sheer force and magnitude of his orgasm. I tried to get a look at his face, but his head was buried in my neck, succumbed to the sensations rocking through him.
I wanted… no, I needed to see that glorious moment of release. I loved watching his contorted expression in the glimpse I had our first time.
Moaning, curving into me as his knees spread my legs farther, his hips still jerking forward. He his dick pulsed as he grunted in my ear, his warmth filling me.
I sighed, my mind swarming. I was afraid to move or even breathe. Staring at my ceiling, I waited on his reaction. Raising my hand, I pushed my hair from my slick face. “That was amazing.”
Drawing in a shaky breath, he whispered, “A shower might be good now.” Still panting, he placed a row of soft tender kisses along my collarbone. Pulling back, our eyes connected, and I had my first glimpse at the real heavyweight everyone spoke of, but knew nothing about. His guard was down, gloves off, and I finally saw who Destry Stone was. Scared, vulnerable, anxious… so many words came to mind, but I couldn’t exactly place which one defined him more. With the room calm and quiet, he blinked, and I realized I had no idea who he was when I walked into that bar. I had an assumption, but I had been just like everyone else. Painting a picture of a mythical man inside the ring.
Destry wasn’t untouchable. He was just like everyone else and let his guard down when he knew he shouldn’t have.
Could it be that we were both learning to love and trust, together?
WE BOTH SHOWERED and that led to sex. Amazing sex, I might add. I wasn’t sure if he would leave after that, but he surprised me when he lay on my bed. I smiled, the moonlight coming in through the cracks in the curtains lit up the side of his face. It was as if it was attaching to him, telling me to pay attention. Look at what was right in front of me. And I was. I most definitely was.
Wearing his basketball shorts but no shirt, his arms rested contently on his stomach. I studied his breathing, searching for any indication of his current mood. His left hand rose to run through his hair. Blinking, he continued to stare at the ceiling. Damn it. I wished I knew what he was thinking.
“Do you want to stay the night?”
“No, not really,” he mumbled, seeming to hold onto a defensiveness that I might never understand by the sharpness of his tone. “But I’m tired enough that I will.”
What the hell does that mean?
Eventually his eyes drifted closed. I couldn’t sleep. My mind raced as it usually did. Most of the time it took me hours after lying in bed to finally sleep. As quietly as I could, I pulled out my notebook and wrote down a few notes.
There’s something to be said about a man who can throw punches with tenacity, land them with intensity, and do that round after round. As I sit in the dimly lit room that dwarfs the ring where this heavyweight title holder trained for years, I’m reminded that he’s much more than just a fighter.
Around four in the morning, my body succumbed to the long day and I lay down next to Destry. He stirred, his eyes opening and searching mine.
Breathing in, I wormed myself closer to him, trying to fill an ache I didn’t know was there until him. For a moment, he held me and I knew then, I was falling for him. I didn’t know how hard yet, but I couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere but in his arms.
Shifting beside me, he moved, rolling us to our sides. He smiled, and it felt like ribbons of light dancing across my skin, warm and breathtaking. He touched me, and I sighed. He pushed my hair from my face, and his voice was a whisper when he breathed out, “See you later tonight,” and then kissed my forehead.
When the door closed behind him, I dissolved into every piece of him once more, the sting of his heated lips still lingered on my skin.
A count is tolling of the seconds by the referee after a boxer is knocked down. If a boxer is still down at the end of the count of ten, then the fight is over by knockout.
I lay in bed that morning afraid to move. I hurt everywhere. Worse than workout pain, the soreness between my legs was unreal. I had to get up though since I needed to meet Marcus for lunch. And maybe tell him I couldn’t do this article. Not after what Destry and I had shared. I couldn’t betray his trust and write something that may or may not cause him more drama in his life.
Whatever happened the night of that fight, Destry wasn’t talking, so I knew it had to be a big deal, and whatever I’d uncover about that night could make or break an already somewhat broken man. Marcus was going to have to understand that it wasn’t about a story here; it was about a man, one I was falling for.
“You’re up early,” I noted, greeting Jared, who sat at the table with coffee and the paper.
Destry had left maybe an hour ago and I couldn’t sleep so I decided coffee was needed.
“Yeah, someone had to help Destry when he locked himself out of our apartment and left his keys on the table.”
“Oh, he never knocked, did he?”
“No, but I was on the couch when he came out of your room and then he forgot his keys. I heard him trying to open the door and I answered the door with my gun.” J
ared smiled. “Scared the shit out of him.”
“Oh my God!” My hand covered my mouth. “You didn’t?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“What did he say?”
“Same thing everyone says. Don’t shoot.” Jared saw the concert tickets on the counter. “Tallan, seriously, are you still thinking of meeting Silas?”
Anxiety gnawed at my chest. “I don’t know.”
“And you’re paying Destry. And fucking him. That’s like prostitution,” he pointed out. “I could arrest you for that.”
“Shut up.” I groaned, pouring myself a cup of coffee and sitting at the table with him.
Jared laughed, shifting the conversation. “I’m being serious. I think you should tell him about the article.”
“No shit.”
“Seriously.”
“I’m going to when the time is right.” I had no problems talking to Jared about my personal life.
For some reason, I wanted Jared’s approval, that what I was doing wasn’t wrong. Or I suppose I wanted his take on Destry as a person. He was good at judging character. He had to be with his job.
“What do you think of him?”
“He’s cool.” He didn’t hesitate to say. “Wasn’t very talkative when he left at four this morning, but he seemed like he wasn’t a complete tool.”
As we sat drinking coffee, me with my black sugarless coffee and him with a mocha I would kill him for, he asked, “Have you asked him what’s going on with you two?”
“No. I don’t want to. I’m afraid of what he’ll say,” I admitted. “What if he says it’s just sex? What would I say then?”
Jared leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his hands wrapped around his coffee mug. “Do you want more than sex?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I saw him this morning. It’s more than sex.”
Now he had my attention for sure.
“Really? How do you know?”
“I’m a guy,” Jared pointed out, as if this should have been obvious to me. “I know these things.” I gave him a look, so he continued, “He was reluctant to leave. That’s how I know. He opened your door and stood there, like he was contemplating staying. If it was just sex, there’d be no hesitation. He would have walked out without another thought.”
He hesitated? I wouldn’t have guessed that. “Have you seen Catie lately?” I asked, wanting to shift the focus from me to him.
“Don’t do that.” Jared stood, reaching for his coffee cup and then took it with him as he walked toward the sink.
“Do what?”
“Act like what I’m doing with Catie is similar to this.” He set his cup in the sink and turned to face me.
I shifted my position in the chair so I faced him. “Well… isn’t it?”
“No.” He shook his head, folding his arms over his chest. “Not at all.”
“How so?”
Jared smiled. “I’m not paying her.”
Ugh. When he puts it like that I sound like a slut. Awesome.
JARED WENT TO work that morning and I went in my room and got dressed in a pair of new gray leggings, and a light-blue sweater that I paired with black boots.
It’d been a while since I dressed like this, but something had me feeling comfortable. How was it possible that the fat girl from a few weeks ago was now comfortable in gray leggings and could fit the “cankles” Jared had so rudely pointed out into black boots?
Because in past few weeks, I’d found myself again. Destry not only had helped me physically, but he’d relieved me of a lot of emotional baggage I’d been carrying around about the way I looked simply by assuring me that women are beautiful at any size.
I knew then there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be able to write an article about this man without betraying his trust. Marcus was going to have to understand. I wouldn’t do that to Destry. I couldn’t.
I met Marcus at the same restaurant as before and noticed it was right around the corner from Destry’s apartment. Maybe I should sneak over there for a quickie?
What the hell is wrong with you?
Stop it. Focus.
When I entered the restaurant, Marcus smiled and stood when I approached the table. He was also such a gentleman. But honestly here, I wanted to punch him because he asked me to write this article in the first place.
We took a seat. “You look great, Tallan.”
“Thanks. I’ve been working out.” I paused and took a drink of the ice water already on the table. “I can’t do the article.” There was no sense in beating around the bush. I had to be honest. With someone.
“What?” His eyes widened. “Why?”
I rested my elbows on the table. “I’m in too deep. I can’t do it. Not unless I tell him about it first.”
Marcus stared at me. I’d known Marcus for a while now. While he didn’t know me as well as Jared did, he knew me pretty well. So I wasn’t entirely surprised when he shook his head, as if he was disappointed in me and said, “You slept with him.”
I sighed, resting my forehead on my clasped hands. “I don’t know why I try to hide anything.”
Casually Marcus looked over the menu, his eyes lifting to mine momentarily. “So why does sleeping with him change anything?”
“Because he willingly started offering up information to me. Personal information. Now I feel like I’m using him.”
Marcus shrugged, setting down his menu. “You kind of are.”
“I am not!” I kicked him under the table. Immediately, he hunched forward and grabbed his leg, glaring at me. “And if I am, it’s because of you, asshole.” I slammed my fist on the table, shaking the water glasses. “I’m. In. Too. Deep.”
“I never told you to fuck him, Tallan.”
“Well, you might as well have.”
His brow drew together. “What?”
I realized nothing I was saying was making any sense. “Nothing. I need food.”
He pushed the menu at me, still rubbing his shin. “Order something.”
I calmed down after ordering our meals and I started snacking on my veggie and hummus plate that tasted like a dog’s ass.
“I feel like I’m breaking his trust,” I pointed out. “I need to tell him about the article.”
Marcus considered this for a moment, but then said, “If you do, be prepared for him to shut down and not tell you anything. And you are also running the risk that he won’t have anything at all to do with you ever again.”
Was losing what I had with Destry now worth it?
But then again, what was it that I had with him aside from hot sex and a personal trainer?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to put a label on it or us into a category.
For now, it was what worked for me, maybe even for him. But the concert and my six-week deadline was fast approaching. I had bigger problems to face in my future than telling Destry about this article.
When Destry’s personal training work was completed, was I going to be able to walk away from everything that we’d shared to walk into the arms of another man?
Before I left, Marcus caught me by the arm. “Think about it. His story should be told. For him.”
I sighed, thinking about why I wanted to write the article, regardless of Destry’s approval. If I could make others see that there was more to Destry than his sensational knockouts and the fear he instilled in his opponents while never showing any himself, they’d know there was more to him.
“I’ll do the article… but it doesn’t get published until Destry approves it.”
Marcus gave me a weak smile. “Good luck with that.”
I didn’t feel good leaving the restaurant. Anxiety gnawed at me and my heart raced, all indicators I was stepping into the ring with a deadly combination. Lying to him, or running the risk of him finding out about it and destroying any trust I’d gained already. Either way I went about it, I had a feeling he wasn’t going to see it the way I intended for him to.
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br /> When the bell rings and the round ends, you are supposed to stop fighting immediately. If you don’t, you are hitting on the break, which is highly against the rules.
Destry ended up having to move our workouts around and cancel a couple because his dad wasn’t doing well. Apparently he had some kind of procedure done, but Destry didn’t say what and wasn’t willing to talk about it. His dad was at Virginia Mason in the ICU for now.
On Thursday after our workout, judging by his mood I figured he’d want some time alone. So what came next surprised the fuck out of me.
“Come over tonight?”
I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “Oh, uh, yeah. Totally.” God, I sound stupid.
An hour later, we were seated in his living room together and I was obsessing over what this meant. Maybe he needed a distraction. I was, apparently, his distraction. While the Rocky movie played on his large flat screen, we sat in silence eating takeout from Jade Garden. The wild mushroom roasted chicken they served was something I could eat every night. No lie.
“How long have you lived with that guy?” he asked, just as I’d taken a bite of chicken.
I chewed slowly and then reached for my napkin, covering my mouth as I spoke. “Since we graduated from college.”
Destry took a bite of his chicken, then asked, “He’s a cop?”
“Yeah.” I laughed, trying to cut my chicken with those stupid plastic knives that didn’t cut meat worth a damn. “Did he scare you the other night?”
“At first.” He chuckled. “He was holding a gun.”
“What about you?” I gave up on the knife and pushed my food away, setting it on the coffee table in front of us. “You live alone, right?”
I knew after being here last time he only had a one-bedroom apartment, but I wanted to hear him say he wasn’t seeing anyone. “Yes. I used to live with someone, but she moved out. My dad lived with me for a few months, but it was clear I wasn’t what he needed. I let him stay in my room while I slept on the couch for a few months. After I found him wandering the halls looking for my mom, I decided it was time he went somewhere they could keep better track of him.”
