Senn (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 5)

by Lane Hart

  “Really?” he asks. “How does it feel?”

  “Um, sort of like bubbles or water slowly shifting around.”

  “Have you picked out a name?” he asks.

  “No.” Linc and I named Thomas the same week we lost him. This time I’m afraid to give her a name, to get even more attached to her in case I lose her.

  “I was thinking of one—” he starts, but I slap a palm over his mouth.

  “Don’t. Save it for after she’s born and we hold her.”

  “But what if…” he trails off.

  “Then you name her.”

  “You sure about that?” he asks with a wrinkled Shar Pei forehead. “What if I name her Zena or Blanket?”

  “Just stick to names in a baby book and you’ll be okay,” I tell him. Inside my heart warms because he may be serious about this being a father thing after all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Senn

  I line up a row of storage containers on the kitchen counter and start filling each with the “rabbit food” I just mixed up for the week. My stomach growls, unhappy with the necessary health kick required for the last few weeks before my fight. I only have about six pounds to lose to make weight, and instead of the hard, dehydrating way the day before the official weigh-in, I want to do it gradually over time.

  The sudden knock on the door has me ready to pound my fists into the wall. Really, it’s not all that unexpected, just earlier in the night than normal. I mean, it is the first of the month when rent is due.

  Grabbing a dish towel, I dry my hands and toss it aside before steeling my spine on the way to the front door. I put my eye up to the peephole just to be sure and gasp in surprise seeing her standing there instead of the giant pain in my ass. She’s sort of a pain in the ass, but I don’t mind since her mouth feels fucking amazing on my cock.

  Undoing the chain and deadbolt, I open up.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, and it comes out sounding hostile instead of inquisitive as I intended. Abby’s slumping shoulders suddenly square, and I see the wall come down on her face. Shit. Let me try that again. “I mean, I’m glad you’re here. How did you know where I live?”

  “I have my ways,” she says. “Just came by to see if you were still abiding by our deal.”

  Our deal? Oh, right, the one where I said I wouldn’t fuck any other women. So she’s here looking for cage cunts.

  “You can come in and check my bed if you want,” I tell her, opening the door wider as I eye her short, yellow sundress. The material is so thin I can practically see her dark areolas through it. And actually, now that I think about it, there’s never been a time when I’ve had a slut in my bed since I don’t ever bring them back here. My bed is for sleeping, not fucking or any of that snuggling shit.

  “Okay,” Abby says before storming past me and sniffing through my house like a K-9 unit. Not that I would tell her that. She probably wouldn’t appreciate the dog comparison.

  Instead of following her around, I go back in the kitchen and finish up on the week’s meals. I’m putting the last container in the fridge when Abby reappears holding a stack of books and a look of disbelief on her face.

  “Baby books?” she asks, blinking at me in question.

  “Uh-huh,” I reply, grabbing two bottles of water for us from the fridge. “Unless you’re having puppies or kittens? Shit, did I get the wrong ones?” I tease.

  Abby follows me silently to the living room where I set our waters on the coffee table and then slouch back into my favorite corner seat on the sofa.

  “Have you read them?” she asks, sitting the stack down and taking a seat on the other end of the sectional.

  “I’m not a speed reader,” I tell her with an eye roll. “I’ve read maybe half of the first one, right around when it starts talking about bottles or tittyfeeding.”

  “Huh,” she mutters, and then the woman with the biggest mouth in the world turns silent as she focuses on the television. I don’t even know what channel I have it on. Some IFC countdown of the best knockouts of all time. Jude’s brother Jax still holds the top spot and record for quickest knockout in the first fifteen seconds of a fight. I wanna try to beat that record someday.

  “When’s your next fight?” she asks.

  “July twenty-fifth,” I answer.

  “Where?”

  “Atlantic City.”

  “Maybe I’ll come see it,” she says.

  “Okay,” I reply trying to sound ambivalent. I won’t get my hopes up because no one except my teammates ever come to watch a fight out of state. Sure, I have fans, so my hotel bed has never been empty before or after a fight; but as far as friends or family go, well, I’ve never had anyone in my corner. Local fights, especially when I was younger, are an entirely different story.

  “Are you gonna fuck cage cunts while you’re there?” Abby asks, looking away from the television to scowl at me with narrowed eyes.

  “I told you I wouldn’t, right?”

  “Like your word means anything,” she responds. Fuck, she’s such a ballbuster.

  “Guess that means you’ll have to come up to Atlantic City and check my bed,” I tease; but for whatever reason, I do want her to see me fight.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” she answers with a sigh. “Maybe Luke will come with me.”

  There is no way to win with this woman. None whatsoever. So what the fuck am I doing with her? I have no damn clue.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re gonna travel hundreds of miles to make sure I’m not fucking anyone else, while the whole time you’ll be fucking someone else?” I ask. “Bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

  I chug half of my bottle of water while she thinks this over, her fingers playing over her long, cock-teasing braid.

  “So, you don’t want me to fuck Luke?” she finally asks with a scrunched nose, telling me she’s not a big fan of that idea.

  I’m six feet, four inches, two-hundred pounds of hard muscle, but there’s apparently this tiny soft spot hidden somewhere inside me. One with Abby’s name on it. I blame it on the whole tragic, life-threatening cancer and being knocked up by me thing she’s got going on.

  “If I can’t fuck anyone else, then you can’t fuck him unless I’m in the room.”

  “Fine,” she huffs rather sullenly before she suddenly starts giggling.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’re never gonna get rid of him now,” she tells me. “He’ll be like your stray puppy, following you around everywhere; but instead of begging for scraps, he’ll be begging you to let him get laid.” She giggles again, apparently amused by the idea of him being my bitch.

  “How do you know he won’t just go out and screw some other girls?” I ask.

  “Because he won’t,” she says simply. “He’s honest, unlike you.”

  “What the fuck?” I exclaim, tossing the remote in the air. “Have I ever lied to you?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “Not that I know of, but then, I probably wouldn’t know if you were lying, would I?”

  “I haven’t and you know it,” I mutter. “Now, are we gonna get naked or what?”

  Abby gasps and starts to sputter some sort of attempt at an indignant response.

  “You wouldn’t still be here unless you wanted my dick,” I point out with a smirk. Ignoring her weak rebuttal, I slide across the sofa cushions until I’m next to her. Yanking on her braid, I tilt her head backwards, so I can feast on her throat while my hand fondles her titties.

  I place a few openmouthed, tongue kisses down to her collarbone and back up the side of her neck, stopping right underneath her ear. When Abby squirms, I grip her jaw to hold her still. She whimpers and shivers when I lift her hair up to kiss a path from her neck to her shoulder again, flicking my tongue underneath the thin strap of her yellow sundress. I shove a hand down her neckline, needing to feel the soft skin of those heavy tits against my palm.

  “Oh God,” she moans, reaching for my cock. She handles it like a ge
arshift, and I go from neutral to drive in less than sixty seconds. After that, her mouth is on mine, and there’s a series of unfortunate ripping sounds that I’m sure she’ll bitch about later. Now, though, as she straddles my hips, she seems to appreciate how quickly I got her naked. In fact, she can’t seem to get my pants unzipped fast enough. I could help her, but I enjoy seeing this horny version of Abby who is desperate for me instead of hating my guts too much to interfere. This form is rare, like a white unicorn, and I know that in a few minutes she’ll disappear and be replaced with the sick, ill-tempered version. The one who can cut me down and make me feel like a worthless, three feet tall imp with only a few words. This horny version is so much better.

  Abby finally gets my pants undone, but she doesn’t waste time lowering them any farther than necessary before she sinks her hot, drenched pussy right down on my cock. At the pace she’s riding me, our mouths can’t stay connected, so I suck on one of her bouncing titties instead while she squeezes my shoulders for stability.

  “Uh, God, Senn,” she groans. “Uh! Uh! Uhh!”

  Quickest orgasm ever. If there was a countdown for that shit, I’d have to be in the top ten because she came on my cock within seconds. In fact, I should feel used since it took no participation by me whatsoever to get her off. But, fuck, she’s riding me so damn good that I don’t last much longer before her orgasm milks me dry. Her nipple slips from my mouth when she slumps against me, resting her head on my shoulder. My arms stay wrapped around her, holding her to me. Hell, this is probably the closest thing to cuddling that I’ve ever done, and I’m not even naked. She is, but I still have my shirt on and most of my pants. I would like to feel her warm skin against mine, but that would require moving her.

  When the minutes tick by without a peep from her, I realize she’s fallen asleep. Well, damn. I suppose I should take her to bed. Getting to my feet with her is no problem. Even pregnant she’s light, probably not much over a hundred and twenty pounds. The problem is that when I stand up with my arms around her, my pants and boxers end up around my ankles. Since I still have my boots on, I can’t just step out of them. So what do I do? I waddle. All the way down the hallway.

  Of course, that’s when Abby wakes up giggling before she says, “Quack, quack.”

  “Shut it. You didn’t even undress me. I feel used,” I tease her right before I toss her onto my mattress.

  “Right,” she mutters with a smile. “I can tell you’re really offended.”

  “So offended,” I reply while pulling up my pants and zipping them.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “I’m not really tired,” I tell her. “Gonna go watch TV for a while.”

  “Oh,” she mutters, scooting to the top of the bed and climbing under the neatly tucked covers. Nikki, the girl that cleans my house twice a week, was here this morning, so my room isn’t a complete pigsty. I actually got up early and stayed at the gym until I knew Nikki was finished cleaning since she usually wears a ridiculous French maid outfit to tempt me into fucking her on the kitchen counter, over the arm of the sofa, or on the washing machine, but never in my bed. I pay her well for cleaning and only cleaning, but the kinky fucks have always been a nice perk. Well, until Abby.

  “Could you watch TV in here?” she asks, nodding over to the flat screen mounted on the wall. At the same time, the sheet just so happens to fall, bearing her beautiful boobs to me. She doesn’t fight fair.

  “Okay,” I agree with a sigh. Untying my shoes, I pull off my shirt and lower my pants again before climbing into bed naked with her. With my back propped against a few pillows on the headboard, I grab the remote from the bedside table and flick on the television. I haven’t even started flipping through channels when Abby wraps her arms around my chest and cuddles up to me. Her tits are like two miniature heaters against my chest with her round belly protruding into my abs. When it growls, I’m almost worried it might take a bite out of me.

  “Hungry?” I ask.

  “Um-huh. Always,” she replies. “I’m starting to worry that she might be born gigantic like one of those twenty pound babies. There’s a reason Chihuahuas don’t mate with Mastiffs. No way this is gonna be a natural birth.”

  “The bigger the healthier, right?” I ask, reaching down to rub her belly like a lamp. If only I could have three wishes, I would make Abby’s cancer disappear, have this little girl be born perfectly healthy, and become the best light heavyweight fighter in the world. “So what do you want to eat? I’ve got Lucky Charms, or do you want to order a pizza?”

  “Pizza! Fuck yes, with cucumbers on it!” Abby lifts her head and exclaims.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. Order from Luigi’s. They have salads, so they can take the cucumbers from there and put it on the pizza. Easy. Just half, and then you can have whatever you want on your half.”

  Sliding out from under her, I get up to retrieve my phone from my pants pocket. Once I find the number, I give the man our order, having to repeat the part about cucumbers twice before they agree to make such a bizarre concoction. It doesn’t matter. I’ll make the pizza myself for her if I have to. Having Abby here, not just in my bed, but getting ready to have dinner with me is nice. Really nice. I love her sense of humor almost as much as I love her naughty side. But I’m scared of getting too used to the amazing way it feels to be with her in case it doesn’t last.

  ...

  Abby

  I don’t know how long I had been asleep when the doorbell ringing wakes me up. I’m not just talking about one simple ding-dong. No, it was more like, ding-dong…ding-dong…ding-dong on repeat until Senn cursed, pulled on his jeans and went to open it. Unable to go back to sleep, I lie in bed for a few moments before it hits me. One of his slutty hookups must be here!

  Rolling my fat ass out of bed, I throw on Senn’s abandoned Havoc tee and walk toward the voices.

  “You got what you wanted, so get the fuck out of here.” I hear Senn’s raised voice before I step into the living room.

  “Whose Beemer’s that in the driveway?” A man’s deep, slurred voice asks. Okay, so it’s not a hookup. “Some gold digger screwing you for a new ride?”

  “That’s none of your fucking business!”

  “She only wants you for your money. You know that, right? She’ll drain you dry—” The sentence is interrupted by a loud whomp like something or someone hitting a wall. Maybe it’s just the sound of my heart snapping in half after hearing this asshole tell Senn that his money is the only reason a woman would ever want him. Who would say such a thing?

  “While I appreciate your concern for my money, my girlfriend actually has her own piles,” Senn snarls at the man. “Now get the fuck on!” Despite all my questions about what’s going on, the G word stands out. Did he really just call me his girlfriend?

  The door slams, followed by the click and chain of locks being put in place before Senn comes back into view. His bare chest is heaving as he shoves his fingers through his long, wavy hair. He stops abruptly when he sees me leaning against the doorframe of the hallway entrance.

  “Sorry,” he says simply, his voice sounding tired. We both stand there silently while I wait for him to explain. Instead, he just says, “Go back to bed, Abby.”

  “Who was that?” I ask, not letting him off the hook that easily.

  “No one,” he answers when he walks past me. I follow him back down the hall and to the bedroom where he takes off his pants and falls face first into bed. I join him, leaving his shirt on since it’s a little chilly with the air conditioner on full blast.

  With his face buried in the pillows, it’s obvious by the tense cords of muscles in his shoulders and back that he’s still uptight about whoever his midnight visitor was. So, I climb on top of the mountain of a man, straddling his hips to massage the tension out of him with my thumbs. I start at his thick neck, and it doesn’t take long before he relaxes underneath me. When I work my way down either sides of his spine, he finally s
peaks.

  “That was my dad.”

  “Oh?” I ask in surprise. “He must be a night owl.” And an asshole.

  “He’s a money grubbing leech who sleeps all day and drinks all night,” is Senn’s muffled response since he doesn’t lift his head from the mattress.

  “So he shows up here in the middle of the night for money?”

  “Yeah,” he says on an exhale. “First of the month, middle of the month. Whenever he and my mom need more.”

  “Doesn’t he work?” I ask.

  “Fuck no,” Senn replies gruffly. “I don’t think he’s worked a day in his life.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “Hell no. She’s worse than him. At least he occasionally sobers up enough to leave the house.”

  My hands pause on his back as I think that over. Senn’s parents are dependent on him for money, not the other way around like it should be.“But then how did they afford shit before you had money to give them?”

  “Stole it if they used up what they got from welfare. Booze always came first; and if anything was left over, then they bought food.”

  “And you were raised like that?” I ask, completely appalled.

  “Yeah,” he mutters after my hands resume working out the kinks in his lower back. “Lived on free breakfasts and lunches from school. In the summer, well, I stayed at friends’ houses a lot.”

  “I’m sorry. That must’ve been awful.” He doesn’t respond, telling me it was probably even worse than I can imagine.

  “I actually have them to thank for getting me into fighting,” Senn says. “If I hadn’t been kicking ass in underground fights, Linc wouldn’t have seen me and recruited me to train with his coach.”

  “When did you start fighting?” Finished massaging his back, I move over to his biceps. It seems like as long as I keep my hands moving he keeps talking.

  “I was fifteen the first time they threw me into a cage with no training or warning whatsoever.”

  “Holy shit,” I gasp, imagining a younger, smaller Senn in the cage. He was probably terrified. “What happened?” I ask.

  “Well, luckily I had plenty of experience taking hits, so once the guy wore himself out swinging at me, I finally hit him back. Won by knockout in the third round.”