THIEF_Steel Saints MC

by Paula Cox

  My hands slowly race down the line of her sides. Her body turns into bumps from my touch. She pulls aside her hair from her back, allowing me to take two fingers and tenderly trail them down the column of her spine. Her hips continue to sway sensually back and forth with my cock trapped in its rhythm. I move back up towards the front of her, circling the fingers around her pelvic bone, feeling the muscles of her hips and the line down to her pussy. They then travel back to her breastbone, between her two perfect tits. I circle my way around both breasts, gently squeezing at the soft pillows as I come back towards the top.

  My head dips under her arms, sliding towards the tips of her nipples, which hang perky and upright for my mouth to grab hold of. Alana sighs desperately as I flick my tongue up against the pebbled tip and then around the pastel pink rings. My mouth hooks around, sucking just hard enough for her fingers to curl into the warm wood slats of the bench before her and her toes to press further down into the towel. My growing cock massages her ass as she remains completely still this time, waiting for the second nipple’s turn for its attention.

  “Liam,” she says, completely out of breath, her head drifting up so that it rests against my shoulder. “I don’t know how much more I can last… I want you inside of me. Please.”

  “Beg me for it,” I reply, needing to hear her voice again.

  “Please, Liam. Fuck me hard.” With that, she pushes her hips down and out towards me. Her head and arms rest on the bench’s seat and her waist and chest hang low without any support. She lines herself up perfectly for me, like an offering preparing their own feast. All I need to do is simply slip in through the sweet and lush folds. It’s a perfect fit. Each centimeter of me finds a warm place in the tightness of her body. The warmth outside is no match for what I feel resting inside of her.

  She cries out again, pounding her hands into the wood with two balls of fists. Me lingering here isn’t enough of her. I slowly move out, just enough to expose everything but the tip from my viewpoint. I watch in awe as I slide back in, this time a bit easier as the juices of her body begin to flow rapidly. I can feel it drip around my cock and up against our legs. She practically coos as I come back in, and I hear her whisper, “Again.”

  Back and forth, I move unhurriedly and gradually into her. I normally hate slow. When I want to cum, I want a fast fuck with nothing but action. With Alana, it’s like a juicy steak meant to be savored. You want every taste of it before it runs out.

  She, on the other hand, wants it now. I can tell she’s close to cumming. Her body has turned that splotchy red I’m used to seeing and she is biting her lip as she watches me with eyes that scream she can’t obey my earlier commands. But she will have to hold on through what I’ve got planned for her. My arm wraps around her hips and finds the top of her mounds. Through the fine layer of hair, I find her secret spot where her flesh hides her clit.

  With two fingers, I massage gently around and then directly on. It causes her to peel upwards, an arm wrapping around my neck as she pulls me in for a kiss. My other hand holds tight onto her breasts, pulling and kneading at her nipple. I have no choice but to speed up. My cock dashes in and out of the tighter space she has made for me. The friction is amazing as her pussy keeps me coming back for more and more. Our bodies shake with the rhythm while our lips entwine with the other.

  Alana pulls away for a second, only inches from my face as she says, “I can’t do this anymore Liam. I’m cumming.”

  I grab her from around her neck, turning her back towards me. With our eyes square on one another, I tell myself it’s time. Neither of us can hold back anymore. I pull out of her as fast as I possibly can as she falls backward onto the bench. My legs straddle her body, finding her breasts. My cum erupts out of me and onto her tits. She sits up on her hands to watch it trickle down the round mounds of her and down to her stomach. Her legs curl up around her as I watch her own orgasm flowing in and out of her.

  “Liam…” she pants as she sits up slowly. “That was…”

  I don’t let her finish. Sitting down next to her, I pull her in for one long, deep kiss.

  CHAPTER 17

  This dress Liam has bought me has to cost more than my entire semester’s tuition. I don’t even want to sit in it for fear it’s going to get ruined. And poor Jana can only stare at me like I’m made of precious porcelain. “You look ah-mazing, Alana. That color is…”

  “It’s Liam’s color,” I say breathlessly. It’s the same emerald as those boxing shorts he put on after we made love in the sauna of his gym a few hours ago. I should have realized when he gave them to me that there was this connection, but I was too shocked by the gesture and the thoughts running through my head to put two and two together.

  “What do you think that means?” Jana asks. “Do you think that he has actual feelings for you?” She throws over the black halter dress I told her was way too skimpy to wear, but still, she looks as impressive as ever.

  “When he came to the hospital the first time to see my dad, he mentioned feeling something for me. We haven’t really talked about it then.” I sit down slowly on my bed as I remember his hand reaching for mine and him talking to my dad as if he was just another guy coming to court his daughter. It’s been different since then. Something’s changed, though I’m not sure what.

  For me, I’ve been keeping this Amy thing in, hoping that it was getting dealt with on the side since I told him after the first fight I saw her. But it’s only escalated. Her comments on my blogs have turned to personal emails with her threatening to kill me if I didn’t stop seeing Liam, and Jana continues to tell me about the new firewalls she’s put up that are being continually attacked by some virus. Red flags everywhere with this one.

  I wanted to tell him about it today. My plan was to open up as soon as he got me flowers. It would just have been a quick check in on if he had spoken to her or if he had done anything to get her off of my back. But Jana had brought up a point that what if he hadn’t done anything -- what would I do then? Would it be clear that he still had feelings for her or that I was just some girl he was using to get his business done? Or did he really care about my safety if he couldn’t stop a jealous ex from sending mean comments on my personal blog?

  I didn’t want the answer. So I stayed quiet. I kept my mouth shut. I distracted him with sex and then left with the excuse that I had class to get to before he could force me to tell him what was wrong. I would need to get better at acting if I was going to keep this up, because while the sex was fantastic and a great escape, I couldn’t be this sore every single hour of the day. I was going to need some rest.

  Even with the potential for him having genuine feelings for me, I had to protect him as well. The first day in the truck, Liam told me, excitedly about his offer to go pro and how he had to keep focused and cool for the next set of matches. They were crucial if he was going to go on to the next stage of his life. What kind of person would I be if I added Amy’s stress to the mix? Would he spend the entire match watching out for her like a hawk or constantly on his guys about this so-called meeting she had with them? No. I had to guard him, keep him safe. What she was doing was just juvenile and petty. I could be brave and face it without getting him involved.

  Jana accompanies me to tonight’s match at the MGM. This one, unlike the smaller fights this week against opponents way down the number line, is absolutely packed. Liam, ranked number 1, was facing the number 5 fighter -- a guy named Henri Master, or, The Master Blaster as he was billed on the marquee.

  As soon as we walk in and find our VIP seats, we can tell that it is not just about the ranking of guys’ names. The betting scene, especially the back doors and under the cuff versions, are everywhere. And to my surprise, Liam’s guys aren’t anywhere to be seen to put a stop to it like they had been this week. They are replaced by men nearly double their size with thick, Eastern European accents and pins depicting black flags. Jana looks disappointed as we pass the entrance to the dressing rooms and does not see her lates
t crush at his post.

  The lights flash twice as we finish grabbing our drinks and programs and hurry off to our seats, avoiding the men with the betting tickets stuffed in their pockets. They practically leer at us as we sit in our section of the stadium, third row up and dead center. It’s the perfect spot line for the match.

  The stadium goes pitch black, and the booming music begins to play. The Master is up first with the announcer rattling off his stats and recent wins. A towering man disrobes in the center of the ring and waves to the crowd. He looks scrappy, but if I’ve learned anything from Liam this past week is that the people you least expect can pack the most powerful punches.

  Liam enters second from the second corner. The crowd goes completely nuts as they hear his name over the speaker along with the blasting oldies rock music stomping in our eardrums. I stand to my feet, jumping as high as I can as I wave my arms. He looks my way as he ducks under the ropes and points at me with his green-gloved fists.

  Suddenly, his head turns a few sections away. Dressed in his green is another woman with fiery red hair and a smile painted in deep red. She blows him a kiss, and I turn back to see him staring at me in complete disbelief. Amy was back, and not only that, she was making it clear to Liam that I wasn’t the only girl there for his attention.

  Liam can barely process what is going on before the referee drags him into the center. On the microphone, he rambles through the rules, checks their mouthguards, and then has them punch hands with their gloves to the sound of a bell. But as soon as their gloves touch, Liam turns whips his head back towards his coach. Something’s wrong. By the look on his face, I can tell he’s worried. He tries to motion to the referee next, but the bout has started. The man before him grabs the first hit, a jab to Liam’s side.

  He recovers, darting back and forth on his toes. Both men jab and punch at the air while protecting their faces. Liam especially looks defensive and unsure. I’ve never seen him look so unconfident in the ring. My stomach drops as I grab hold of Jana’s arm. People behind me urge me to sit, but I can’t. I need him to know that it’s all right, though I have no idea what is going on in Liam’s head. About one hundred feet to my right, Amy cheers loudly, bouncing up and down in her sleeveless tube dress.

  Ten rounds pass with neither of them taking more than hits. Each one to Liam seems like it hurts him four times more. From my view, his spit becomes more bloodied, and his head hangs low as he waits for round eleven to start. The men around me grow antsy and irritated. This was clearly supposed to be a knockout, but neither man has taken a knee or moved to the floor.

  Liam’s coach whispers something into his ear as Liam shouts back incomprehensibly. Liam shakes his head over and over again as they argue back and forth. A medic is called, but Liam refuses. The bell rings and Liam stands much slower than before, but there’s something there that wasn’t before -- fire.

  The match begins with The Master hitting first, nailing Liam with a power punch to the face. But it’s Liam who runs back at him, pushing him into the ropes. The man pulls back straight into Liam’s waiting fist. He hits him with a jab to the stomach so powerful that the crowd lets out a loud “Ohh!” The Master stammers back and forth, but Liam gives him no time to recover with two uppercuts straight to the face. Everyone is back on their feet as I cry out Liam’s name uncontrollably.

  There’s only one more hit -- Liam’s, before the man falls to his knees, his hands on his head. The referee stands before him counting up to ten while Liam retreats to the corner, holding onto the ropes for support. Liam’s support team flanks him, keeping him from out of sight. I turn my head towards where Amy was standing, but she’s mysteriously gone.

  The referee screams: “4...3...2...1… TKO!” The crowd goes nuts with tickets tossed into the air and the men behind us screeching out loud at their winnings. Jana pulls herself up to stand next to me, holding onto my shoulders as we cheer along to the referee pulling Liam back into the ring. When he reappears, he looks worse for wear. His face his swollen and he stumbles tiredly towards the spotlight as the lights dim again and video cameras and press form a ring around him.

  But I can’t focus on Liam. All I can see is the person standing there with her arm around his. Amy wraps her hands around Liam’s neck as she pulls him down for a deep, forceful kiss. Jana lets out a gasp and pulls me back to our seats as we watch Liam not resist Amy’s advances. “What the fuck! Is that…?” Jana screams over the announcer’s voice calling out the stats and the interview questions begin.

  “Let’s go, Jana. We have to go.” Liam has made it clear that he’s more than okay with letting Amy back into his life. I can’t be mad about that. I’m just the girl he was using for his business, and that’s it. I have to forget about the night at the hospital, the dress he has given me, the flowers in the morning. What matters is his lips on hers and his hands wrapped tightly around his arms -- nothing more.

  Jana grabs my hand as we dash out of our seats. I stop for one quick second to look back at the man I was starting to feel something for. He holds up his hand towards the air as Amy steps back. I hear myself scream as I watch helplessly as Liam falls backward, his head landing hard on the floor.

  CHAPTER 18

  What the hell is going on? My mind is screaming out in pain as I timidly open my eyes. A harsh, fluorescent light beams down on me as I see vague faces above me. I feel a sting in my arm. I grab at it, pulling out what feels like an endless tube as the faces go black and begin to scream. I’m bleeding from somewhere, they cry out, while hands attempt to hold me down.

  “Liam! Kid! Stay down. You’re okay!” My coach Ricky hollers at me with his gruff, smoky voice, “You’re in the hospital, but you’re okay! That damn dirty bastard lined his gloves with a roll of quarters. Damn good it did him. Lost the fight and managed to get himself a lifetime suspension.”

  It comes back to me like a wave of memories. I’m not in the hospital anymore. I’m back in the center of the ring where we pound fists to start the match. I knew something was wrong then. Those fists were just a bit too heavy. He was just a hair too slow from all those tapes I watched of him. Either this guy had gained some massive muscle in his hands, or he was attempting to pull something.

  Despite knowing it, I let the fight happen anyways. I wasn’t a chicken-shit novice that backed down or cried foul. I had seen that play out a ton of times, and it never ended good for the nark, especially if the guy had a good defense or an in with the referees to get away with it. No, I had to tough this one out and find a way to knock him out before he knocked me out.

  Then there was that blow in the last round. I thought it was over then. My head swam in some dark fog I couldn’t get out of. Every muscle in my body went stiff and rigid as if it could break apart like brittle glass. My eyes became heavy, and I knew all I could do was just to swing at anything that looked like a body. I hit something. And then again. And then again.

  Before I could come to, there was nothing left to hit. The referee was holding my arm high in the air as the hot lamps from the spotlight baked down on me. I tried to spy Alana in the seats. That green dress was supposed to be a beacon for me, but I was too tired… I was too beat up and damaged to see anything but a crowd of blackened faces and long shadows that only grew more tilted as the man talked loudly in my ear.

  “Oh Liam,” a woman’s voice cries out over my coach’s shoulder, “I knew something was wrong with you when I saw you take that hit, but I couldn’t stop it. It’s like that match in Orlando we went to a few years ago with that guy Marco-something. Do you remember what I told you then?”

  I can’t answer her. I sit there in a sort of stunned silence as I spin my heavy head towards her voice. Red hair dangles down like a canopy above my head. She grabs my head as she finishes her thought for me. “You’re a damn idiot who doesn’t know what’s best for him,” she laughs, with a shrillness that sounds like a witch’s cackle -- high pitched and hollow. “It was true then, and it’s true now,” she adds, almost
as an afterthought.

  I pull my hand away from her as the next part of my fight’s story comes back to me. There was the referee, but there was someone else too. Someone’s warm lips pressed against mine, someone’s tight body against me, her hands feeling and grabbing at my moist muscles. And then there was that laugh -- Amy’s laugh as the referee outstretched my arm for the win.

  Alana. Shit. She saw that. She fucking saw Amy storm through the ring to claim me as her prize. She knew what she was doing. No doubt she had seen Alana in the crowd and wanted to make sure she made it public that I belonged to her. Rage flows through my body, coursing through my veins. The beeps on the machine speeds up as my heart races and my blood pressure rises. A nurse dressed in all red scrubs comes in quickly with a chart in hand.

  “Whoa there,” she cries out as she spies the machine attached to me. “Mr. Murphy, is there something wrong? Something I can get you? The doctor will be in soon to do rounds and discuss your test res--”

  “Get this bitch out of here!” I scowl, not caring if this innocent nurse has to deal with my anger. Obviously, I couldn’t trust my coach to obey my wishes. He knew how dangerous Amy could be, and that we were over long ago, but he still managed to let her creep her way into this hospital room with him.