Saving Emily: A Fighter's Curvy Prize

by Nora Haley

  “But–” I say, trying to make sense of what he’s telling me. “How could that have been planned?”

  “Maybe not the original conflict, but the rest. Ask Mackenzie what she told the little bastard when she threw him out. I mean– fuck!” He pauses, rubbing his large hand over his face. “You can’t ask her of course. You’re not supposed to know. I’m not even allowed to talk with you about this.”

  “But you are,” I say. Affection is swelling in my chest, warm and golden as sunshine. So that’s why he dragged me off to an empty room at the end of the corridor. To make sure no one overheard us talking.

  “Yeah,” he grumbles. “Of course. How could I not tell you? We were in this together. We are in it together.” He looks at me and I can see how that calms him down. The ghost of a smile darts across his face. It fills me with a strange sort of pride that I have this effect on him.

  “So how much did they give you?”

  He does his thing again that I find so cute, this half-nervous, half-awkward rubbing of the back of his head. “Half a mil.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, they said it’s compensation for the fights I’ll be missing out on. But who do they think they’re kidding. It’s hush money so I don’t tell anyone they encouraged crime and blackmailed Chandler Sr. to drop out of a huge financial deal.”

  I open my mouth and shut it again, lost for words. So that’s what’s really going on?

  “I don’t have all the pieces to this puzzle. It’s just a lot of guesswork, but I think Preston came up with the idea when he saw Chandler harass you. The rest was quick thinking and improvisation. My theory is that he pushed Chandler somehow to make sure he’d snap and focus his anger on you and me. He also ensured I was distracted so I wouldn’t be there to protect you.”

  I think about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t put it beyond him,” I admit. “You know when I started working here Karen told me there was this rumor that Preston shot someone in his office once. Not sure if it’s true, but I definitely believe he’d be capable of something like that. He certainly has no scruples to take what he wants.”

  “So what do you think we should do?”

  I take a deep breath. “Honestly? I think we should do nothing. I don’t think it’s wise to stir this hornet’s nest.”

  Jon nods, slowly. “I hate to say it but I agree. I don’t think we’ve got much choice than to play along. Stick around until the whole thing has blown over. Then we get the fuck out of here. And I’ll give you your money of course. Should be more than enough to get you through nursing school.”

  “What do you mean – my money?” Of a sudden, I’m feeling a bit faint. So faint in fact, I have to lean against the table with the cleaning supplies to stay on my feet.

  Jon shrugs. “It’s yours. You went through hell. It’s only fair you get a bit of compensation for it at least. Call it damages.”

  Five-hundred thousand dollars? My head is spinning just thinking about it.

  “No,” I say. “I can’t take it. They gave it to you. It’s your money.”

  “Yeah, because they thought it would be a bad idea to fuck me over even more than they already had. But you – they didn’t even consider you a player in their fucking game. Just a prize I’d go after.” He sounds furious again.

  I put my hand on his forearm to calm him down. “Granted, in this case, it’s even more fucked-up than usually but… it’s how they treat women all the time – as a means to an end.”

  Jon closes the distance between us. He puts a hand under my chin to tilt my face gently upwards. “You should never be treated as anything but the goddess you are.”

  I can’t help it, I have to laugh. This is really corny. “Yeah sure.”

  “I mean it,” he says. And then he kisses me to show me how serious he is about the whole goddess business.

  It takes less than a minute until I’m breathless, and another minute to start tugging at Jon’s hoodie, impatient to feel his warm skin under my fingertips.

  “You know,” he groans in a short break between kisses when he pushes me up on the table. “This is just part of playing along.”

  “Keeping our cover up,” I agree and pull him closer. Honestly, what could be more inconspicuous than sneaking off for a quickie in an empty room full of cleaning equipment?

  He steps between my legs, his hands on my hips – kissing me, kissing me harder and deeper. I run my hand through his soft, short-cropped hair, down his neck, over his shoulders. I want him so bad, my whole body is prickling. But there’s more to it than that. The craving goes deeper. It tugs at my soul. It pulls me towards him with overwhelming force. I want to be with him because we belong together, two pieces of the same whole.

  I fumble with Jon’s belt while he shoves my dress upwards, fabric bunching around my waist. A bit more scrambling and wiggling and I’m out of my panties and Jon’s dropping his pants. The rip of plastic and he rolls the condom over his dick while I wait with bated breath. He’s so fucking gorgeous, muscles rippling under his skin, face screwed up in concentration.

  After he’s done and he hauls me towards him, to the edge of the table.

  “You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispers, breath hot against the shell of my ear. His hands are rough on my thighs, large and strong, his thumbs rubbing circles into my naked skin, just above the top of my stockings.

  I gasp when his cock pushes against my sopping wet pussy, wide, thick, pressing and stretching, and then he’s inside, so good and so right.

  This is it – perfection! I press my face in the crook of his neck, overwhelmed.

  “Sweetheart–” he groans, holding me tight.

  He rocks against me, into me, slowly, carefully at first, so I can get used to his size, but I want more of him, feel his raw strength. I dig my nails into his arms. I wrap my legs around him to get him closer, spur him on. He can’t last long at this pace, and I don’t want him to.

  “Jon!” His name a whimper on my lips, I move with his rhythm, meeting each snap of his hips with my own, pushing back against him as much as my position allows.

  He reaches between us, pressing his thumb to my clit. Pleasure spirals through me. I’m tightening around him as he keeps moving, pushing me higher, closer towards climax. I claw at his firm ass and he gives a low grunt, his mouth wet and open against my neck, his teeth dragging over the sensitive skin. He thrusts deeper, burying him inside me to the hilt, and the tension snaps and we’re coming, together, the same second, tangled into each other, one flesh, a paralyzed by the hot rush of pleasure.

  Jon kisses me once he’s calmed down enough, his hand gentle against my jaw and his eyes so soft, my heart swells with affection.

  “I think I have to get back,” I say after a while. “I guess they’ll cut me some slack today but that doesn’t mean I can disappear for an hour.”

  Jon makes a rumbling sound in his chest. “They won’t fire you. And even if – you don’t need the job anymore.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I say. “The money–”

  “It’s yours,” Jon interrupts me. “I don’t want it, I don’t need it.”

  I sigh. “I can’t accept it though. Honestly.”

  Jon tilts his head. “Okay, so what about half then? That’s my last offer.” And he kisses me to make sure I can’t protest anymore.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emily

  I wake to the apartment door opening and clicking shut again. Footsteps are coming down the hall to the bedroom. Stretching, I push back the covers. We’re a good ten months into our relationship and I’ve become used to our little rituals. Movie-night on Wednesdays, strolls through the park on Sundays, doing the dishes together in silent contemplation. Or this...

  Jon likes to go running in the morning, I like to sleep in – so we’ve come to this wonderful arrangement that every Saturday morning he wakes me with a fancy latte from the coffee shop around the corner, so I can sip my coffee while he takes a shower. Sometimes I pad after him
into the bathroom to watch and occasionally, I step under the hot water with him. Whatever we do, however we do it, it always ends the same way – with a bit more physical exercise.

  No idea how he can keep up with that routine. He must have superhuman stamina or something. There’s no other explanation of how someone can come home from a ten-mile run and be in the mood for sex. Jon claims it’s all my fault, I’m too sexy to resist, and I gladly accept the blame.

  Today is different though – he hands me my coffee but instead of leaning in for a kiss like he usually does, he chucks a newspaper into my lap.

  “Good news, sweetheart.”

  I pick it up and stare at the front page. “Preston got arrested?”

  “Hmm,” Jon says, settling on the edge of the bed, sipping his own coffee. “They mention Gilbert in the article, so maybe he’ll be next.”

  “It won’t stick,” I say, skimming the article.

  “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see.”

  Over the last months, I found out that Jon is a lot less forgiving than I am. Even though I was the one who got kidnapped, it’s him who can’t let it go. My guess is that he believes it was – at least to some degree – his fault. Which is nonsense of course. We were both at the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all. And from where I’m standing, the story had a happy ending.

  Chandler Jr. has been sentenced to some prison time. To less than what a normal person would have had to serve perhaps, but more than we expected. Jon’s theory is that this has got more to do with the fact that a too lenient sentence would have roused unwanted media attention than with actual justice. But frankly, I don’t care. Asshole is behind bars, and that’s what counts for me.

  It definitely helped that we got enough money to start a new life and leave all the unpleasant memories behind. I quit my job at the Epic pretty soon after the kidnapping, and Jon didn’t stick around either. Shawn expected him to get back to fighting eventually, but fortunately, Jon had other plans. At the moment he’s busy getting that gym with Viktor off the ground and they do make a pretty good team. And I myself started nursing school a couple of months back, which is as awesome as it is exhausting.

  And then there’s Jon, of course, the main ingredient to the happy ending. I still can’t believe my luck sometimes. He’s so wonderful, attentive and gentle and protective. Sometimes too protective perhaps.

  I reach out to touch Jon’s cheek. “Promise me you won’t obsess about this.”

  He looks a little guilty when he nods. “Promise.”

  He leans in to make good on that missed kiss, intending to brush his lips over mine fleetingly before he’s off to the shower, but I won’t let him go. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight to kiss him properly. Deep and wet and delicious.

  Pleasure rumbling in his chest he kisses me back, then he tries to break away again.

  “I’m all sweaty,” he says.

  “I don’t care.”

  I really don’t. The sweat is fresh and spicy and I like Jon’s natural scent just as much as I thought I would. It’s not just he who has an animal side. I also react instinctively to smell and touch and other stimuli. And right now I want his naked skin on mine, warm and familiar and still so exciting.

  Quickly, he gets out of his clothes and scrambles between my legs, bracing himself on his forearms, careful not to put too much weight on me, but I’m not fragile, I can take it. I can take him. I welcome his body, the weight, the rock-hard muscles. All this early-morning running definitely pays off.

  Kissing me, he rolls us over, so I come out on top of him, my soft tits and belly crushed against his hard chest and abs, his cock trapped between us. It’s no less hard than the rest of him, and I can’t wait to have it inside of me.

  I sit up. Knees bracketing Jon’s hips, I drag my pussy over the length of his erection.

  He sucks in a breath as he feels how wet I am for him, and automatically his hand goes to the nightstand where we keep the condoms.

  I reach out to still his hand. “Let’s skip it, okay?”

  “You sure?” He looks at me, wide-eyed.

  We've talked about this before. About wanting children. About wanting them with each other. Starting a family. We just never talked about the when, but Jon, being fifteen years older than me, made it quite clear it would be my decision.

  “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart,” he said.

  I’m feeling ready now. Perhaps it’s the fact that the ghosts of our past will finally be laid to rest. Perhaps it’s the hormones in the air, the scent of his sweat, or the day of my cycle, but today I’m sure – I want nothing between us. I want to feel him moving inside me like I never felt him before. I want him to come inside me. I want this to mean something.

  “I’m sure,” I tell him and raise my hips. Wrapping my hand around his cock I position it at my slit and then slowly, slowly I sink down on him, taking the whole length of him into my tight wet pussy.

  Epilogue

  Jon

  After all this time, my heart still skips a beat when I see my wife walk through the crowd, hips swaying. Our smallest, Gracie, is waddling beside her, clutching the line of a balloon in her tiny hand. There are balloons everywhere because what’s a party without balloons? Especially when there are children present, and there are plenty of children. Not just our three, also Viktor and Maria’s four, and a whole lot of other kids running around the gym.

  We’re celebrating its tenth anniversary today. Ten fucking years. I can’t believe it’s really been that long, but looking at Sasha, Viktor’s oldest, being twelve, going on thirteen now, it must be true. I remember she was two when I met Viktor that fateful evening that turned my life upside down.

  And while some things do change over time, Emily is still as gorgeous as the day I met her. She sometimes has her doubts – stretch marks from her pregnancies and all that – but she’s nothing less than perfect to me. If anything, she's more perfect than ever, a goddess, and I treat her as such. I worship her. I worship the ground she walks on.

  I’d like to worship her now, come to think of it. Show her how much I want her. Spell it out like Morse code on her body, tongue tapping pleasure against her clit. And naturally, Emily guesses at once what it is I’m thinking about. One look is enough. After all, she knows me better than I know myself.

  She rolls her stunning green eyes as if she wants to say Not now, Jon!, but her lush, rosy mouth curls into a smile. Now she is going to think about it, too. The idea is going to haunt her in the best possible way. We’re well-matched in that regard.

  And soon enough, I catch her staring at me, too – the same sort of hot, lingering gazes I like to give her. When she notices I’m watching she tugs at her figure-hugging dress, smoothing out the fabric against her curves. Promptly, my cock gives a twitch of interest.

  I keep thinking she’s too pretty for her own good. How can I not fantasize about dragging her with me into a dark corner and kissing her senseless? I’m beginning to ache for her as I watch her talking to Amber and Alejandro. Every time she laughs, her long shiny hair ripples. I will never not feel the urge to twist my hand into it and use it to pull her into a kiss.

  My fantasies get more vivid with every passing minute, but Emily lets me stew in my desire for a bit before she leaves Gracie with Maria and walks over to me. And about time! I’ve been feigning interest in a story Matt, one of our fighters, has been telling me for the last ten minutes and it's getting increasingly harder to remember to ask an interested question every now and then.

  “Excuse me, Matt, can I borrow my husband for a second?” Emily interrupts, putting her hand on my arm.

  “Thank you,” I whisper into her ear when she takes my hand and leads me away through the crowd. I like Matt but in this case, having to listen to him was torture. Emily has the magical ability to stir a primal desire in me that drowns out almost everything else.

  The only thing I still manage is to check if all the kids are safe. Gracie is with Maria and o
ur sons Tom and Jake are in the ring play-fighting with Boris and Leo, Viktor and Maria’s boys. Viktor’s watching them, so I can be sure they’re in good hands.

  To my immense relief, no one stops us as we’re sneaking off. I’m in no state of mind for social interaction. My cock is straining against the zipper of my jeans, painfully hard and Emily’s no less impatient as she pulls me down the corridor to my office.

  I can hardly wait till we’re inside and the door is locked behind us. Once it clicked shut, I grab her by the hips and shove her up against the wall, kissing her like there’s no tomorrow. No slow build-up, just raw, unrestrained need.

  I plunge my tongue into her mouth, possessive, greedy, as I put my hands on her thighs, sliding them up, pulling her dress up with it. I grab her ass, kneading it in my hands, enjoying how soft it is, how nice and round. I’ll never get tired of this...

  “You’re such a tease,” I tell her between kisses.

  “Could say the same about you,” she says, hands occupied with my belt buckle. “You kept undressing me with your eyes – how was I supposed to make small talk like that?”

  I’m about to laugh about that but at that very moment she wraps her fingers around my cock and instead of a chuckle, a guttural groan wrenches itself from my throat.

  “Fuck,” I curse as her hand glides over my shaft in a firm upwards stroke. I slump against her for a moment, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her neck while I lose myself in the sensation of her fingers around me.

  “Does that feel good?” she whispers into my ear.

  “Mmmm...” I’m inclined to give in to this, let her jerk me off, just enjoy how good she is at making me come, but we don’t have much time and I don’t want this to be only about me. I allow myself two more strokes before I move. Tightening my grip on her, I spin her around, front to the wall, my hand slipping down from her belly between her thighs.