“I’m really glad you have as fucked up of a sense of humor as I do, I have to say. I can’t tell you how many guys wouldn’t even get past the first date with me because they thought I was a bitch—when really, they just didn’t get my sarcasm.”
“I get that. I got it right away with you. And fuck those losers.”
“Well they’re gone and I’m here with you. No one makes me feel like you do, Damien. I’ve never met a guy like you before.”
“I’ve never met a woman like you. And I don’t want to be one of those cliché fighters. I want to do this right—my career and my life.”
“So what changed your mind on going to see someone?”
Please say me. Please say me. Please say. . .
“Lucas. He really helped me turn that corner.”
Dammit.
“That’s great.” I’m trying to hide the petty side of me who’s mad that he took Lucas’ suggestion over mine. Apparently, I’m not doing a good job.
“And look, I owe you a giant apology.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do,” he says. I can tell he feels bad. “I know that you’re dealing with this exact thing with your brother. I don’t need to add to your pile of CTE shit.”
He didn’t need to say that, but I’m really glad he did. “Thanks for saying that, Damien.”
“You’re welcome. And I won’t let it happen again. I’m going to get my head shrunk and everything will be okay.”
I laugh. “Have you ever seen a psychologist before? For anything?”
This time he laughs. “Nope. I chose the healthy way of dealing with my problems—fighting other men in a cage in my underwear for not a lot of money. To hell with this psychology stuff.”
“It’ll be good for you.”
“Oh wow. I’m that screwed up?”
“That’s yet to be determined,” I joke. “I’ll leave the diagnoses to the professionals, but it’ll be good for you, regardless of your level of screwed up.”
He takes a sip of his wine. “You sound like you speak from experience.”
“I do,” I tell him. “I started seeing someone after Michael got really bad. I needed to vent. It’s amazing how good it feels to express yourself to someone who isn’t directly involved in your life. I’m telling you, it’s a game changer.”
He listens without saying much. The waitress comes over to take our order and, just as I’m about to order, Damien tells her to come back in a minute. “What’s wrong? Indecisive?” I ask.
He gives me a devious grin, and it turns me on immediately. His eyebrows go up and I can tell that he’s definitely thinking of something devious. I really want to be inside of his head right now. He leans forward and waves me in with two fingers. “Come here.”
I do what he tells me to. “What is it?”
“You know what’s a real game changer? What I really need?”
“What’s that Damien?”
“Taking you to my bed and doing unspeakable things to you. That’s the real game changer—and I’m about ready to have my game changed. How about you?”
Suddenly, my appetite leaves me, and I’m hungry for something other than the amazing food my friend boasted about. I don’t answer him, I just wave the waitress back over. “Yes?” she says. “Are you guys ready?” We are, waitress lady, just not for dinner.
“Actually, we’re just going to take the check for the wine.”
“Oh,” she says. “Not hungry?”
“I’m very hungry,” I tell her. “But what I want to put in my mouth isn’t on your menu.”
The look on Damien’s face is priceless.
12
Harper
I walked out of a place I’ve wanted to go to for months just because I wanted him so badly. I’ve never felt this kind of attraction towards a guy before. Damien is, without any doubt, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. His face, his body, the fact that he’s a badass fighter—my attraction to him hasn’t slowed down even a little bit.
As soon as we’re through the doors to his place, his hands are all over me—exploring every inch of my body as if it were our first time together. It always feels like the first time with Damien, especially when he paws at me like a wild animal pawing at their food. He needs me as badly as he needs to breathe, and I feel exactly the same way.
Right now, I’m rediscovering the contours of his chest. My hands slide over his pecs, slowly, rubbing all the way down until the hardness of his abs are all my hands can feel. As I touch him, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my body responds to his touch.
He pulls me close, and I put my face against his chest. I forget that smell sometimes—that smell of his that’s all man. It’s something I want to breathe in forever. For now, I take the deepest breath I can, as I feel his hands going further and further down my body. His strong hands grab my ass hard and pull me tighter into his chest.
I pull back to slide my dress off. I’m standing in nothing but my bra and thong. He does the same, taking his shirt off and tossing it aside, followed by his pants. That’s when I get to look at his amazing body. He’s like an Adonis—the perfect male form.
When I step back to him, I only have one thing on my mind, and he knows exactly what that is. I drop to my knees in front of him, but slowly. I start with my hands following the shape of his chest, working my way down until I hit the waistline of his black boxer briefs. I stop there as a tease, working the tips of my index fingers just on the inside of his underwear.
The more I play, the harder he gets.
That large soft bump that was there a second ago becomes a giant hard bulge that’s begging for my mouth. Once he’s in the state he belongs in, I stop my tease and use my hands to pull his underwear all the way down. I follow it down his body, ending up on my knees as he steps out of the unnecessary fabric.
His massive cock is looking right at me, his head engorged, begging for the warm comfort of my mouth. I oblige. I reach up with my hand and take him into my mouth, stroking the base as the head gets treated to the swirl of my tongue. My other hand goes to the bottom of his chest. I feel his whole body contracting as I suck, moving my mouth back and forth over the girth of his cock. Finally, he can’t take any more and puts both of his hands on my head, forcing my face into his body.
I let him do what he wants. I let him use my mouth to fuck as long as he wants. Finally, he stops and pulls me up to my feet. We start to kiss again, even harder than the last time, and that’s when I know he needs to do more than just kiss. He reaches down and scoops my legs up, carrying me over to the bed, throwing me onto it. I’m flat on my back, and, as we continue to kiss, he finds my dripping wet pussy with his fingers. He pulls my thong off and it isn’t long before I feel his power as he slides a finger deep inside of me.
My whole body responds. I arch my back as he fingers me, gently rubbing my clit with his thumb while plunging his long finger in and out of me. I reach up and touch his powerful chest, and that’s when he takes his hand back and holds me down. He has both my wrists pinned down, taking full control of my body as I lie underneath him. He puts his body between my legs, and opens them wide with his knees. He has control over my body and mind right now—he can do anything that he wants to me, and that’s exactly what I want him to do—anything he can imagine.
He lets go of one of my wrists so that he can grab himself. I feel him stroking it hard, and the visual of him rubbing his own cock makes the throbbing between my legs even more intense. My body can’t wait any longer—I’m soaking wet and dying of anticipation for what’s about to happen. And then it does.
He guides himself to the outside of my soaking wet pussy, rubbing the head of his manhood around the outside of my lips. He’s teasing me and I love it, but I want the real thing. “Are you ready?” he asks.
I nod.
That’s when he slips inside of me, and the feeling is so intense that I don’t know what to do with myself. I doubt I’ll ever get used to the exquisite feeling
of him filling me up. He rolls his hips against me, allowing my body to get used to the pressure of his cock inside me.
“How do you want it?” he teases, slowing pulling out.
“You know how I like it.”
“Slow, like this?” He inches his way back inside me, adjusting the angle of his cock to hit just the right spot. I swear, my eyes roll back in my head as I let out a small moan. He feels incredible.
“Yeah, like that,” I breathe out as he moves slowly in and out of my aching pussy.
“Or, would you prefer this?” he asks as he moves his hips faster, the friction of his cock against my inner walls curling my toes. I dig my fingers into his ass to keep him moving.
“Oh God. Oh God,” I moan.
“Yes, baby,” he purrs in my ear as he fucks me.
He teases me, alternating slow strokes for pounding hard and fast. My body doesn’t know which way is up right now but I wouldn’t change it for anything.
My pussy is dripping as he fucks me. This man knows all my spots and he’s hitting them all in a delicious pattern that is causing my body to heat and my pussy to start to clench around him. I know he can feel what he’s doing to me because that patented smirk crosses his lips.
“Tell me what you want,” he instructs, shoving himself completely into me, grinding his hips into me.
I arch my back to have him hit just the right angle.
He likes to tease. Well, two can play at that game.
“I want to ride you,” I say, throwing my weight so he can roll us.
“Yes, ma’am,” he complies. His hands are on my hips as he guides my pussy along his hard cock. The friction sends a shiver up my spine. I lean back and put my hands on his strong thighs as I continue to ride him, grinding hard against him each time I reach the base of his cock, his eyes roll back into his head each time.
I move one hand to play with his balls and I hear his intake of breath, and feel him dig his fingers into the flesh of my ass, urging me to move faster. After a minute, I throw my head back as the sensations take over my body. We’re moving together as one now and I’m not sure how much longer either of us will last.
I lean forward and place my hands on his pecs, I need the leverage to move faster against him. His fingers dig into my hips urging me deeper onto his cock. I bend down and kiss his neck, gently sucking on just the right spot to drive him crazy. I move my lips up to his ear and whisper something I know will entice his alpha ego.
“Fuck me, Sinner. Fuck me hard.”
His fingers dig into my ass as he lifts me off his cock, throwing me back onto my back. He’s instantly on top of me, positioned perfectly to thrust himself back inside me.
“Be careful what you wish for,” is all he says before he shoves back inside me with one delicious thrust.
I cry out his name as he fucks me, hard and fast, just the way I asked him to. His frenzied thrusts are calculated and hitting all the right spots. The heat I’d built up riding him is being stoked into a full-on fire throughout my body with each stroke of his cock.
He gets up onto his knees and pulls my hips with him. The new angle has stars forming behind my eyes as he hits a spot I didn’t even know I had. One hand still holding my hip, his other hand finds my clit as he starts to rub furiously on my overly sensitive bud.
“Oh my God, Damien!” I cry out as the new sensation pushes me closer to orgasm. I dig my fingers into his thighs as my legs start to quiver.
As my pussy clenches around him, he moves his thumb faster and faster against my clit. The muscles in his jaw tighten and I know he’s as close as I am.
“Give it to me. Give it all to me,” he coaxes, trying hard to get me to my climax.
The sweet sensation of his cock pounding into my pussy and the expert ministrations of his thumb has me exploding another second later. I scream out his name as my pussy clenches around his cock, milking his orgasm out of him. Only a few more thrusts later and he screams out his release as well.
One thing about Damien that I love is how he thrusts through his climax, doesn’t just stop and let himself ride out his orgasm. He fucks me until he’s done and the extra sensation is enough to send another wave of pleasure through my pussy.
A final thrust has us both collapsed on his bed, panting like we just ran a marathon. My body is sore in all the right places and I’m covered in a sheen of sweat caused by one of the hottest sessions we’ve had to date. I look over at Damien, whose chest is rapidly rising and falling, mirroring my own.
“Well, at least you’ll go to your first therapy session relaxed.”
“Harper, relaxed doesn’t even do justice to what I’m feeling.”
13
Damien
Long Island in the summer is like a giant mosquito farm—at least that’s what it feels like when I get bit walking the twenty feet from the door of my Uber to the house where my brand-new former cage-fighting shrink has his office.
Even though I agreed to do this whole thing, I still have my reservations about talking to a stranger. I wasn’t raised to talk about my problems, and the fighter in me is used to handling problems by myself. That’s my caveman brain. I need to shut it off right now because it’s telling me to turn around and hit the road.
I do what I need to do right now—text Harper.
Me: Fuck this shit.
Harper: Don’t be a pussy. Man the fuck up. Find your balls.
Me: Woah Woah. What’s with the attack?
Harper: I don’t know. It’s always how I hear guys talking to one another. Attacking each other’s masculinity. Shit, am I wrong? Am I supposed to be a supportive woman right now, is that what you’re going for?
Me: That would be nice. If I wanted one of the dudes, I would have brought Lucas.
Harper: Sorry. Got it. Hold on, I’ve got this. . . awww, c’mon babe. You got this. I support you all the way. That good?
Me: Needs work, Harp. Needs lots of work. I liked it better when you were doing a bad guy impersonation.
Harper: I think I liked myself a little better too. The supportive girl thing made me feel all icky inside.
Me: You kill me, you know that?
Harper: Well now I do. Now take your ass inside and get that head shrunk.
Me: That’s better.
Harper: Bitch.
Me: Huh?
Harper: Oh, sorry. Too far? I always hear guys calling each other bitches. I thought it fit my character.
Me: You can call me a bitch anytime. And I’m going to go inside now. The dude’s probably watching me on some kind of security cam thinking I’ve got deeper issues than I actually have. I’ll call you after.
Harper: You’d better.
I feel better after talking to her. She always has that effect on me.
I walk up to this nice-looking ranch house and, before I have a chance to ring the bell, the door swings open. I don’t know what made me expect a guy my size or smaller, but this dude is big. I’m not a small man, and he’s definitely a weight class above me.
I would have known this guy was a fighter even if Lucas hadn’t given me the heads up. It’s not his size, or his energy, or even his build. It’s the ears. The ears are always a dead giveaway. Somehow, I managed to avoid the giant cauliflowers, but some guys wear them as a badge of pride.
“Damien, right?”
He extends his hand and I shake it firmly. “Damien, right. And that would make you Dr. . .”
“Scott,” he says. “Just call me Scott. Formalities can eat a bag of dicks, I’m not doing this for titles.” Okay, I don’t know much about shrinks, but I’m pretty sure that they don’t usually curse right when you meet them. But, then again, they also don’t fight in cages.
“Fine by me. Scott it is.”
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“To get my head shrunk?” I ask.
He smiles. That’s all he’ll give me, and I think he might just be humoring me. “Better.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to need you to make better jokes if you’re going to make fun of my profession. Now get your ass in here, it’s time to get to work.”
Something tells me this is going to be a different kind of experience.
14
Damien
His office is nice—really nice.
It looks like I expected a psychologist’s office to look, with one exception. As soon as I look around, I smile. “Dude,” I tell him. “Is that a signed UFC 1 poster? Holy shit.”
“It is. I paid a lot of money for that frame, trust me.”
“I believe it. It’s signed by Royce Gracie too!”
“I got to meet him a few years ago and he signed it for me. I was still in the game back then, so he was happy to sign for a fellow fighter. I was a Jiu Jitsu guy also, so that helped.”
Royce Gracie is like the founding father of modern MMA—the winner of the first UFC event. His family invented the grappling that we call Jiu Jitsu, and he’s as close to the George Washington of the sport as we have. Back in 1993, at the very first Ultimate Fighting Championship, this 6’1” skinny Brazilian kid who no one knew went up against guys who were much larger, stronger, and more equipped in the striking department, and he beat them all using grappling. Scott having this poster is like having a signed Michael Jordan poster from the 1990’s Chicago Bulls framed on your wall.
“Very cool. Do your clients. . .”
“Patients,” he corrects.
“Sorry. Do you have to explain who that is to your patients who aren’t into fighting?”
A Savage Redemption (A Series of Savage Gentleman Book 3) Page 5
