Diablo's Throne MMA Books 1-3

by HJ Bellus

  The online comments go on and on sharing stories how Officer Jaco had helped them at one point in their lives. He’s idolized in the community. Held up on a pedestal and revered by everyone of all ages. That’s not the man I see. Far from it. I know his true colors and lived in his personal hell.

  My head spins as I recall the details of the article, and I know it’s possible there’s more to the story that the community will never know about. Crimes way more heinous than cold-blooded murder will be buried, all by the good officer.

  I type in one more web address and plug in my legal name. This time, the phone does burn my fingertips. Tears rush to my eyes, and my stomach cyclones until I can’t sit any longer.

  I race to the bathroom, letting my phone bounce off the hardwood floor. I’m three steps away from the toilet when the first wave of bile shoots up the back of my throat, leaving it raw and torn wide open. I drop to my knees, clutching the ring of the toilet with my stomach rolling and cramping. My arms go numb from the extreme pressure pushing up from the tips of my toes.

  Tears stream down my face long after my body is left exhausted. I’ve often wondered what I did in this life to deserve the wrath of Jaco. I went into the marriage blind and came out a shell of a person. I have to tell Jag the truth. It’s the only option, because walking away from him isn’t one.

  Deep in my gut, I know without even having to second-guess that Jag will listen to me. He’ll believe me too. What scares the shit out of me is his temper and what will happen after the truth is revealed.

  I wipe my eyes and crawl into our bed. Pulling the blankets up and over my head, I let the darkness control my thoughts until my eyelids flutter closed. Sleep and in the arms of Jag are the only places I find peace.

  I have no idea how long I’m out before the sound of Jag’s voice drifts in.

  “Babe.”

  “Sunni.”

  I brush the sleep from my eyes and open my mouth to speak. It’s so dry no sound comes out.

  Jag pops his head in the bedroom with his brow scrunched and shoulders tense. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

  He holds up my phone and walks to the bed, throwing himself in the middle of the bed. He’s careful not to land right on me. He’s so damn graceful from the way he dances to fighting. I swear he’s like a cat.

  “Sorry.” I roll into his chest. “I wasn’t feeling great so decided to take a nap.”

  “And throw your phone on the floor?” He raises an eyebrow in question.

  “No, must’ve dropped it.” I grab it from him, remembering the last search window I had open.

  “You gonna feel up to it tonight?”

  The panic is written all over his features. Some formal ball is the last place I want to be. It means media, exposure, and most of all attention because I’ll be on Jag’s arm. The man owns every room he graces.

  “Yes,” I lie, petting the worry from his brow.

  He shows his enthusiasm with a long, deep, searing kiss.

  “I need to shower,” he says when he pulls back.

  “Yeah, you stink.”

  “Join me.” He leaps from the bed, tugging me with him.

  The thought of showering with Jag makes me swoon. However, the thought of blow drying and styling my hair—not so much. But before I know it, I’m under the hot spray of water in Jag’s loving arms.

  He busies himself washing every inch of my skin. Jag whirls me around, pressing his chest into my back while wrapping his arms low around my waist. He slips his hand between my legs, fingers fluttering through my folds over and over before he sinks two of them deep inside of me. The anxiety and stress of the day fade away as I melt into his protective arms.

  Jag has my spine tight in a matter of seconds. He roams his thumb in perfect circles over my clit. His fingers flick and strum inside of me. I throw my arm around his head, pulling him closer and deeper into me. He takes advantage of my exposed breast, flicking the nipple several times.

  “Jag!” I scream as a burst of white light pops behind my closed eyelids. My hips roll, greedy to milk the last strum of my release.

  “Better, baby girl?” he mumbles into my neck.

  “Much.”

  “You wanna talk about it?” He seals each word with a tender kiss.

  “Not right now. Not tonight. It’s your night.”

  “Doesn’t matter much to me. The way I see it, you’re the center of my world, and that’s it. End of.”

  I smirk, falling deeper in love with him. I turn in his arms and throw mine around his neck. “It’s your night, and I’m by your side, and the way I see it, Cock Monster, that’s all that matters.”

  His crooked grin tilts up one corner of his lips. “Fucking hell. You calling me that does wicked, wicked things to me.”

  “Yeah?” I tilt my head and drop a hand, letting it painfully roam down to cup him.

  “It hurts,” he whines. “So much pressure.”

  “Poor baby.” I squeeze his throbbing shaft. “Pick me up in your big fighter arms and take care of it.”

  Jag doesn’t come back with a witty comment. I’m up in his arms and pressed into the shower wall as he thrusts inside me, hard and deep. His body shields me from the evil of the world. When his skin is pressed into mine, I come alive with the drive to fight through what I need to. He’s my shelter and gives me hope.

  With each thrust, Jag bites down on my neck. The vibration rumbling from his chest sends me over the edge. His thick, hard dick continues to rock in and out of me. Jag throws his head back and roars. His Adam’s apple throbs in his throat. It’s as hot as the time he won his fight and went all barbaric. His hot seed fills me, coating and fueling the remnants of my release.

  “Jag.”

  He hums his answer.

  “Never leave me.” I dig my nails into the flesh over his shoulder blades. “Please, whatever happens, believe in me and don’t leave me.”

  “Sunni.” He drops his head to my forehead. “Talk to me.”

  Damn tears sting my eyes and win the war. They spill over with no apology. “I can’t right now, but just promise me that you’ll never leave me and believe in us.”

  “I got you.” His fingers dig into my ass. “I love you. So damn much.”

  I tighten my arms around his neck, wanting more than anything to pull him into my flesh until we are one. “I love you madly. I love you wildly. You are my heartbeat.”

  Chapter 15

  Jag

  “Jesus woman!” I leap back.

  There’s a crashing sound, then Sunni pops her naked body in the doorway. “What?”

  “Woman, this!” I point to the hot demon on the counter.

  “What?” She strides in, confident in her naked form, her hair still damp from our wild shower. After I blew my load inside of her, I had to taste her, which led her to sinking to her knees as if I was her altar and sucking me off. The sight of her licking my cum off her lips will always be my favorite.

  “Dick and a hot curling iron equals fried flesh.” I grab my junk, cringing at the thought.

  “Jag, stop.”

  “I’m serious. That’s the shit that makes up nightmares.” I wave a hand in the air, allowing one nut to fall free and quickly protect the loyal soldier. “I don’t want my pecker resembling fried chicken.”

  Sunni bursts out in laughter as she clutches her midsection. The little vixen steps in front of me. I relax with her as my shield but don’t let go of my dick and balls. She grabs her blow dryer and finishes drying her hair. Once she’s finished, she hands the dryer back to me, knowing damn well my inner diva needs to look dashing tonight.

  Thoughts of dick frying leave as my naked woman leans over the counter and begins applying makeup. She never wears much. Just the perfect amount. Fuck, I’m a damn pussy, because there’s not one thing I could pick at besides her reluctance to open up to me.

  After my hair is dry, I flip off the switch and lean over Sunni, tossing the hair dryer in the sink. She turns to me, wip
ing her palms together.

  “Here.” She raises her hands to my hair. “Let me.”

  I remain silent, watching her hands work magic in the mirror with her perfect naked plump ass staring right back at me. Fuck me. Her hands are magic. I knew this from the way she’s worked me over, but it’s more than that. It’s as if her hands were made to style hair. It’s as natural as it comes.

  “You like?” She steps back, tilting her head and admiring her work.

  I waggle my eyebrows and look from each side, giving my hair a stern review. “I like it, but it’s the face that makes.”

  Sunni slaps my chest. “Get out of here, so I don’t fry your weenie!”

  I dart from the bathroom, cupping my junk and squealing until I bounce on the end of the bed.

  “You are an idiot!” Sunni gets out between giggles.

  “A naked idiot you love. Get it right, woman.” I cross my ankles on the bed and prop up my head. I watch as she runs her hands through her long locks and seamlessly runs the hot iron through it. Everything hits me.

  “You’re a hair stylist.” It comes out as a question and answer.

  Sunni freezes. Her chest rises sharply then falls. It takes her long moments until she cranes her head to look at me. The space between the bathroom and the opening of our room expands into endless miles. I watch her response play out on her face as she decides whether to tell me the truth or to run again.

  The pounding sound of silence has always haunted me. The ringing of nothingness drives my circuited brain wild. This is no exception. I keep my mouth snapped shut and don’t say a word. It’s a struggle and one that I owe this woman.

  Sunni looks away from me, finishing off her hair. The curls are perfect as she lets them fall down her back. A fine mist of sweet-smelling spray showers her head. It’s then she faces me and walks toward me. Her first step is confident but followed up by hesitant ones. I watch all her insecurities play out as she nears me.

  Sunni ducks her chin, hiding her bright eyes from me. “I love doing hair. It was my passion. I owned a salon in Iowa before I had to leave.”

  I snag her wrist, pulling her down to me. I don’t say a word, relishing what she just gave me. Sunni has gifted me with her heart and soul. But this is so much more. She’s cracking open her sealed crate of demons and is fighting to share them with me as well. It’s the missing puzzle piece to us.

  Our lips crash together. Sunni’s done talking and shows me as much as she devours my mouth. I clutch her hips and feel her wince. I can’t help myself. I need her to know I’m here for her no matter what. I lift her gently until she’s lined up over me.

  Our lips pop apart. Sunni plants her hands on my chest, digging her fingers into my flesh. “This is my foundation. You.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip as she sinks down and takes charge. Tears stream down her face. It guts and twists me up and forces pride through my veins. It’s a fucking storm I’ve never felt and one I never want to seek shelter from.

  Sunni’s nails pierce my flesh as she grinds down further, seeking more. I give her all I have, bucking from underneath her. There’s no way I could go again. It seems he has another plan.

  I sit up, taking a nipple in my mouth. My teeth sink into the fleshy heaven. Sunni’s hands go to the shaven sides of my head. I pay her other nipple as much attention. My arms are wrapped around Sunni, keeping her close to me as she continues to roll her hips.

  We both cry out at the same time, falling once again together. The only sound is our hearts thumping in unison. The minty scent of our bath wash and raw sex lingers in the air. I keep a tight grip on her, the center of my world planted deep in my chest.

  “We are going to be so late,” Sunni mumbles.

  “Gotta make an entrance, baby girl.” I flex my arms around her. “Ain’t in a rush to leave this moment.”

  “Me either.”

  And we don’t. It’s not until my phone rings not one or three times, but five that we even think about moving. Our torsos relax back with our hands still clinging to each other. The worry of the world is back on Sunni’s chest. It’s evident in the way she inhales and exhales. Frustration as I’ve never felt settles in. Patience has never been my strong suit.

  I open my mouth to crack a joke then snap it shut. Silence. The dreaded soundlessness once again creeps in. The chills that race up my spine go ignored until Sunni makes the next move. She grazes her lips up and down the length of my jaw, stopping at my ear. She swirls patterns over my earlobe with her tongue.

  “Love you. The best gift you’ve given me is time.” She kisses my cheek one last time before disappearing into the bathroom.

  I grab my phone to see missed calls from Boss and Layla coupled with texts warning me not to be late. They’re already pissed I refused the sponsored limo. Ain’t no way in hell I’m showing up in that shit. I’ll always stick to my roots and my damn truck.

  I’d do anything to remain naked on the bed waiting for Sunni to return but force myself to get up. I slip into a pair of black boxers and check out my hair in a mirror. Damn, held up nice. I also refused a fucking monkey suit. I wasn’t alone in this protest. Boss, Cruz, and Trick were right by my side. Layla gave it her best efforts but knew they were useless.

  I slide into black dress pants, slip on socks, and black combat boots before grabbing the white button-up shirt. The material is stiff against my skin and bugs the shit out of me as soon as I flick it on. I do up the bottom buttons, leaving a majority of the top ones down. I roll up the sleeves, exposing my thick forearms, and call it fucking good.

  This shit is the part I don’t truly care for. Give me a gym, the octagon, or an opponent, and that’s my poison. The fuel that keeps me going. The shitty part is all the other crap that goes along with it. In the past, it was never me in the spotlight. I’d attend the event and drink the free alcohol knowing I could work it off and find a piece of ass to take home.

  “Hun, can you help me?” The bathroom door creaks open as Sunni takes a step into the bedroom, her right arm up and behind her back, holding the neck of her dress together.

  My jaw slackens, and my dick comes to life. Down boy, we are late. I take a moment to soak in the sight in front of me. Smooth, tan legs exposed for days. Sunni’s breasts pushed up just enough to tease anyone.

  “Jesus, babe.” The two words ghost from my lips.

  “You like?” She steps up in front of me and turns her back to me.

  I lean down, growling into her neck and giving her my answer.

  “Can you latch this dress? My arm is going numb.”

  The dainty metal clasp shines out from the black raven material. My fingers fumble a few moments getting it latched. I plant my palms on the top of her shoulders and run them down the length of her arms.

  “I’ve never seen anything so fucking perfect in my life.” I kiss the side of her neck.

  Sunni steps away from me. Her black dress fits her top half like a glove, hugging her perfect curves. It flares at the waist, hitting high above her knee. It’s as simple as a dress comes. No patterns or lacy shit. On Sunni, it’s stunning. A guttural growl rumbles from my chest.

  Sunni cranes her neck to look at me in her bent-over state. The globes of her ass taunt me underneath her dress as she slips on sexy as fuck black heels.

  “Are you trying to get me killed tonight?” I roll up my sleeves a bit more. The tight opening bites into my thick arms. “I’m going to knock any fool out that checks you out.”

  “No, you’re not!” She plucks a little purse thing from the bed and loops her arm in mine. “You, Jag, are going to be the perfect gentleman.”

  We walk toward the door. I shoot her a downward stare. We both erupt in laughter, knowing damn well I’m the furthest thing from a gentleman. By the time we make it out to the sidewalk, Layla’s ringtone chirps in Sunni’s purse thing under her arm.

  “Layla?” I ask, pulling open my truck door for her.

  Sunni shrugs. “Yeah.”

  “Ye
ah, she and I are the only ones with your number.” I snag her by the waist and toss her up on the bench seat.

  Sunni’s surprised squeal floats up and down the abandoned street framed by the sunset. I flip the skirt of her dress up and dash under it. My spine stiffens when I come into view with a tiny as hell black thong. I tug it aside, swipe my tongue through her folds, then flip her dress down.

  Sunni throws a hand up, grabbing my shoulder. She sits up, still laughing. I’m not. My jaw ticks with anger.

  “We are stopping by the gym, and you’re going to put on a pair of my spandex under this dress.” I palm her exposed kneecaps.

  “You are ridiculous. We are not.”

  “You expect me to hold business conversations when I know there’s a piece of damn floss between your sweet pussy and this dress?”

  She shoves off my chest, manages to swing her legs in the cab, and shuts the door, efficiently denying me. Her laughter echoes around the cab, seeping into the outside air. I round the front of my black truck, shaking my head. Sunni thinks I’m kidding. Part of me is…the very tiniest part.

  Sunni slides over to the middle once I settle behind the wheel. We’ve only been in my truck a handful of times since everything is within walking distance. I fall even deeper in love with her dress as I shift and glide my hand up and down her leg.

  A sea of red taillights forms blocks ahead of us. The towering skyscraper where the event is being held is visible, but it looks like we’ll be waiting a bit. Sunni’s hand trails over my crotch every few seconds. The first time, I chalk it up to an accident. It’s when it happens the fifth time, I peer over to her, licking my lips.

  “Behave, baby girl.”

  Chapter 16

  Sunni

  We do everything backward. Jag forced me to move in before we’d even officially started dating. He showed me his peen before he kissed me and claimed me before he knew he wanted me.