by N. Alleman
The Beast’s Baby
N. Alleman
J. Chase
Cover Design by
Natasha Snow
The Beast’s Baby
By N. Alleman and J. Chase
Copyright © 2018 by Normandie Alleman
This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Contents
The Beast’s Baby
Prologue
1. Olive
2. Axel
3. Olive
4. Axel
5. Olive
6. Axel
7. Olive
8. Axel
9. Olive
10. Axel
11. Olive
12. Axel
13. Olive
14. Axel
15. Olive
16. Axel
17. Olive
18. Axel
19. Olive
20. Axel
21. Olive
22. Axel
23. Olive
24. Axel
25. Olive
26. Axel
27. Olive
28. Axel
29. Olive
Epilogue
The Baller’s Secret Baby
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
About N. Alleman
About J. Chase
Also by the Authors
The Beast’s Baby
This time he’s fighting for his family.
Axel
When I left home to follow my dream of becoming a boxer, I was too young and stupid to know what I was leaving behind.
These days I fill my world with the blood and sweat of a violent profession and the meaningless sexual conquests that come with it.
A futile attempt to erase from my mind the only woman I’ve ever loved.
Since I can’t let her go, I have no choice but to win her back.
Olive
I’ve loved Axel my entire life.
The boy next door.
We didn’t talk about the attraction building between us, until one fateful night those sparks finally burst into flames.
But when he broke my heart, he left me with a souvenir.
A walking, talking little reminder of the man I will always love, but can never again trust with my heart.
Now he’s back, wanting to pick up where we left off.
And there’s no way I’m letting him know about our baby.
Prologue
Axel
Fight.
Fuck.
Sleep.
Repeat.
Just another day in the life of Axel Reign.
It’s a big one tonight, too. Coach Parker has been running me hard, making sure I’m on my best game. After the fucked-up month I’ve had, I’ll be happy to let all my frustration out in the ring. Sometimes I just need to feel the bones crunching under my fists. I need to punish someone … And tonight feels like one of those nights.
The image of Margo won’t leave my head. Margo Wilder, with her lips splayed, moaning some other guy’s name. Damn it, I still can’t believe it. My girlfriend of two and a half years, fucking Silas behind my back the whole time.
What a fucked-up situation. It was supposed to be the other way around, surely … Bad boy boxer, a total player, screwing behind his bookish girl’s back.
But nope, the nerdy girl was the one cheating. Fuck me. I hate being played.
My fist makes contact with the bag in front of me as I grit my back teeth. It’s not like I loved her. Not like I was going to put a ring on that dainty finger of hers. Not like I’d already picked it out at Cartier.
Fucking hell.
Blow after blow I pummel the bag until my hands feel like they’ll catch fire, but I like it. My rage is boiling hot, like it will never simmer down.
Why the hell am I still hung up on Margo? It’s been half a year, and God knows I’ve made up for my lack of girlfriend. I’ve slept around. I’ve fucked every willing girl in the state, probably.
I don’t really need to ask myself that question, though. The reason is always the same, even though the girls’ names keep on changing. Sometimes they cheat, sometimes they breakup with me, sometimes I send them running. The reason never changes.
Olive.
Her name is burning on my chest, on the very spot where I got it tattooed a few years ago. Her memory will burn bright forever, even though Olive probably doesn’t even remember my name any more. I’m sure she’s moved on. I wish I could, too.
“Reign! Stop that,” my coach interrupts, striding over to me. “You trying to break those knuckles? Save something, man. You need to be strong for tonight’s bout.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, finally giving the bag a break. I embrace it with both arms and work to catch my breath. “You counting on me tonight, then?”
“You know it.” Parker grins at me. “Five hundred bucks. Getting me a hot tub if you win.”
“And if I lose?” I grin. Parker always bets on me, and even though I’m on a winning streak, there’s always a small chance I might not prevail in the ring. I ask because I know Parker’s wife gets a prize every time I lose, because she hates her husband placing bets.
“She wants her mother to come visit.” Parker grimaces. “A whole fucking month.”
“Ouch, man.” I give him an apologetic look. “I’ll do my best then.”
“You better!” He slaps me on the back and launches into a lecture on our strategy regarding my opponent. I’m only half-listening, my thoughts still stuck on the two women, Olive and Margo. Margo, who fucked me over, and Olive, who pushed me away. One of these fucking days, I’ll be brave enough to speak to Olive again. This is a promise I’ve made to myself, but it’s one I have a hard time keeping.
It’s not like I haven’t tried over the years. I’ve texted, emailed, called, even showed up on her doorstep a few times. But each time she refused to see me, and each time her dad sent me packing. It’s a damn shame, because I always knew Olive was the one for me. Too bad she hasn’t realized it yet. But she’ll get there …
“I’ll be back for you at quarter to nine.” Parker gives me a serious look and I nod gravely, pretending I’ve been listening all along. Really, how much could I have missed? It’s the same shit, over and over again.
Fight.
Fuck.
Sleep.
Eat somewhere in there, then repeat.
I sigh and get back to practicing when Parker leaves. I’m not supposed to strain myself too much, and I make sure to follow the rules. My thoughts are somewhere else entirely, but I’ll be ready to go as soon as I step into that ring. I have to be, otherwise I’ll get my ass beat.
Two hours pass like nothing, and soon enough, coach is back to get me.
Time to fight.
He leads me outside of the gym, through the changing rooms. I can already hear the voices of the spectators, shouts, boos, and some people calling my name. The blood pumps faster in my veins. Harder, as adrenaline crashes through my body. I have a premonition I’m going to win again. Before every fight, I have a moment where I realize whether I’m going to win or lose.
Today is going to be a good day for me.
“Make me proud, man.” Parker claps me on the back and pushes me forward. I step into the arena with my hands up in the air, and the crowd goes wild. I’m what you might call a public figure, something of a celebrity. I’ve got a lot of fans, and I could fuck any one of those girls in the front row, raising their banners for me to see.
I flash a grin at the audience and climb into the ring in
my satin green robe and trunks. Once inside, I parade around the ring, mugging for the fans around the arena.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of my opponent, and a switch flips in my brain. The flashy showman is off, and the badass boxer is on. This guy has beaten me before, when I was just a rookie starting out. His name is The Bomb, and it fits him. He doesn’t fight too rough, but when he gears up for his big attack, it’s like a bomb laying waste to his opponent. Thankfully, I’ve studied him. I know his tendencies, his strengths and weaknesses, and it’s my intention to exploit them all.
We lock eyes, and I flash him a smile. He glares back.
The Bomb is a hulk of a man, but then again, so am I. I’m ripped as fuck, my broad body inked to the last inch. I’m sure he thinks since he destroyed me last time we met, he’ll do the same tonight. But I can take him. Training and fighting is my life. It’s the only thing I know that gives back, and because it pays back all my hard work, I give it all I’ve got.
And because of that, I’m a fucking winner.
The bell signals the start of the first round, and I roar into action. Forget that “save the best for last” crap. I’m going to fucking demolish this guy as fast as I can. And I bet this fight doesn’t even go the distance. My intention is to knock his ass out before then.
A red haze descends over my vision, and I come out swinging. He backs up, tries to fight back, but I’m in top form tonight. There’s no beating me, and The Bomb knows it. He’s struggling. I’m going to fucking humiliate him.
But not before I have my share of fun.
I land some devastating body shots, and just as he drops his hands in pain, I go upstairs and let my hands go. The crowd goes wild.
He is saved by the bell signaling the end of the round. I stalk to my corner with my head held high, aware that my opponent is practically crawling to his.
During the next round I let Bomb come at me, then I duck away from him, teasing him mercilessly. I deal a punch here, a blow there. I’ll fucking destroy him, but not before I rip his dignity to shreds.
I’m an animal. And just like a beast, I have no mercy.
All I want is to hurt, damage, wound.
I’m in it for the win, and I’ve had enough of the game. Finally, I want to taste something else … sweet, sweet victory.
With that thought in my head, I beat the guy into the ground. It takes mere seconds, and the crowd goes wild. I’ve redeemed myself. I’ve made sure the guy will never forget who humiliated him.
This time the public will remember me as the winner, and forget all about that first fight where Bomb beat me.
The referee raises my hand in the air, declaring me the winner.
The crowd goes wild. Parker climbs into the ring and starts shouting some shit about his new hot tub. Fuck, this is why I do it. The rush. The madness. The pure, crazy adrenaline making me want to jump right now.
I catch the eye of a pretty girl in the crowd wearing glasses. She smiles and looks away shyly.
Hot girls come with the job … I always was a sucker for glasses.
I motion for her to come closer, and she only hesitates for a second before coming over to me. She’s wearing Daisy Dukes, her sweet ass on perfect display for me.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I tell her with a devilish grin.
“Hi, I-I’m Candy.” She’s so shy. I’ll have fun breaking her in. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll be shouting my name and begging me to make her come again. “Hi, Axel. I’m a huge fan!”
“Of course you are.” I grin at her, lift her hand to my lips and place a kiss on it. She’s blushing. Fucking adorable. “How about we go celebrate, sweetheart?”
“Okay!” She nods eagerly. “Can my friends come?”
She points toward a gaggle of eager girls with wide smiles on their faces. No more glasses, but they’re all pretty hot.
“I don’t know, Candy,” I say doubtfully. I grab her chin and make her look at me with a serious look on my face. “What are your friends like? Will they play with me, too?”
She’s blushing something fierce now.
“Oh.” She realizes what I mean, and in a second, that innocent look turns naughty. “Yes, Axel … I’m sure they will …”
“Good.” I grin at her and smack her ass. “I want my prize now, sweetheart. And fair warning …”
I grab her hair and pull her head back. Her throat’s exposed to my hungry mouth now, her sweet scent filling my nostrils. “I play harder than I fight.”
She gulps, hard.
My head is fucking pounding. Oh God, I’m never drinking again.
I sit up and wince at the throbbing pain in my temples. Fucking hell! What happened last night?
I look around, trying to gather myself. Where the hell am I? I don’t recognize this apartment. Judging by the pink cushions on the couch, I must’ve crashed at some girl’s place. I vaguely recall a chick called Candy.
Could this be her place?
I look around, but the apartment is empty except for me and my pounding head. Shit, I need to get my act together. I go to stand up, and realize I’m stark naked. My ass is getting chilly in the cold air, too.
“Fuck,” I mutter, trying to locate my pants on the floor. I finally spot them next to a closed door, and crouch-walk over to them.
I’m in the process of pulling up my jeans when the door to the bedroom opens and a pair of long, slim legs greets me. I straighten up awkwardly as I zip up my pants.
“Um, hi,” I mutter stupidly, looking up into the green eyes of a blond girl. “You’re not Candy.”
“I’m not,” she says with an amused grin. “But I like to think I’m pretty sweet, though.”
“Fuck.” I rub my temples, trying to place the girl in my head. She does look really familiar, but I still haven’t managed to remember her. Could it be she’s one of Candy’s friends from last night? I remember she had a few girls with her … Fuck, what did I do? My last memory is of doing body shots off Candy’s stomach. After that, I’m drawing a total blank.
“Did we …” I look up at the girl desperately, and she smirks.
“As if, Axel.” She rolls her eyes.
“Ah!” I say with a victorious smile. “But you do know my name. So we somehow know each other.”
“Why don’t you solve that puzzle while I make some coffee, stud?” The blonde grins at me and sashays into the kitchen portion of the space. She busies herself with the coffee while I groan and drop back down on the couch. I’m shirtless, but at least my pants are on.
“Are you really gonna mess with a poor man’s head like this?” I ask her miserably. “I’d appreciate some help.”
“You’ll figure it out,” the blonde says, and I nurse my head in my hands. Fuck, it’s killing me. The hangover from hell.
I’m about to give up when it hits me. I jump to my feet, immediately regretting my motion as it makes me sick as fuck. “Selena!” I say exasperatedly. “You’re Selena!”
“Slow clapping. Imagine it, I’m too lazy to do it,” she says, smiling at me as she brings over a cup of coffee. “Thought you’d forgotten all about me, Axel.”
“You’ve changed,” I offer lamely. It was true. Judging from the way I remembered her from high school, she’d had some work done—tits, nose, maybe more. She was pretty back then, but now she appears too plastic for my taste.
And of course, seeing Selena only reminds me of one thing … I guess she can tell, too, because she’s already rolling her eyes. “Go ahead, just ask,” she says with an exasperated sigh.
“Are you still in touch with her?” I take the plunge, knowing I sound desperate as fuck. But I can’t help myself. I’ve never been able to when it came to Olive.
Selena gives me a long, patronizing look. I try not to blush as she scrutinizes me. She’s still staring into my soul when I hear the click of a door and an all-too familiar voice say my name.
“Good morning, Axel.”
Fuck me.
I wh
ip my head back and there she is, in all her glory.
Olive Wilson—the woman who starred in my dreams.
The one none of the other women I’ve ever liked, loved, fucked or kissed could compare to.
Not that I’ve done all of that with her … Just a few of those things.
She’s stunning. And it’s not just my warped memory playing tricks on me now. She’s standing in front of me—an absolute vision. Long brown hair, bright eyes, tall and willowy.
Her face is just as freckled as it used to be, and it’s the perfect combination of sexiness mixed with that girl-next-door vibe Olive has always had. She’s simply stunning.
“Olive,” I manage to get out. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Her eyebrows go up a notch in amusement, and she stares me down. Leaning on the doorframe, she crosses her arms protectively in front of her body. She’s wearing a silk robe which looks liquid against her tanned skin, and I want to touch her so badly I ache.
“Did you really just asked me that?” She grins. “You’re the one in my apartment, Axel.”
A thousand questions threaten to spill from my lips, when Selena jumps down from her chair with an exasperated sigh. “Okay, kids, I’m heading to work. Try to be good while I’m gone. No shenanigans, okay?”
