Kicker (DS Fight Club Book 1)

by Josie Kerr

  But he controlled himself until her gasps and pants changed to moaning sobs, and when she called his name and throbbed and clenched around him, he let himself go with three hard, final thrusts, until he was spent. Then he collapsed on Charlotte and kissed her cheek and her mouth. He felt her laughter bubbling in her chest as she hugged him tightly.

  “I’m gonna pull out and get rid of this rubber, baby.”

  “And finish undressing?”

  Tig laughed. “Yeah, and finish undressing.”

  Tig eased out of her and winced a little when Charlotte gasped. “You okay, baby?”

  “Yeah, Tig. I’m good.” Tig bent down and pressed a sweet kiss on her lips.

  Charlotte watched his silhouette shuffle across the room. She heard the snap of the condom as it hit the bottom of the trash can, then the thump of two boots landing on the floor, followed by the muffled chink of that big brass belt buckle landing on top of his jeans.

  He stalked to the bed and slid in beside Charlotte, pulling the sheets over them and wrapping her in his arms.

  “You sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

  Charlotte suppressed a yawn. “I’m excellent and exhausted.”

  Tig pressed his lips against her hair.

  “Well, rest up, baby. Because tomorrow, in the light of day, we are going to do this all over again, and it’s going to be even better.”

  “Okay, but I get to suck you off,” she mumbled sleepily. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

  Tig chuckled with surprise and kissed her again, and then they slept.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, missy.”

  Tig pulled Charlotte close as she tried to sneak out of the bed before he awoke.

  “I told you before we fell asleep that I wasn’t through with you, Charlotte.” He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent—that bright, flowery-citrusy fragrance that he loved—now mixed with a heady, musky scent of sex.

  “I need to get up and get ready to . . . ,” Charlotte said quietly, but she really did not have an excuse or even want to leave Tig’s narrow bed. There was just enough room for the two of them if they laid curled against each other.

  Tig kissed her cheek. “What do you have to do today?” he murmured.

  She shrugged, and she felt him smile against her cheek.

  “Aw, that means we have enough time, then.”

  “Enough time for what?”

  “Enough time for this.”

  Tig threw the covers back and pounced on her.

  “My Lord, Charlotte, you are even prettier in the morning,” he said.

  Charlotte’s mouth was rounded in the “O” of surprise, but she quickly tried to cover herself.

  “What did I tell you? You can’t hide from me, girl. Let me look at you.”

  “Tig, you can see me. . . .”

  “I know I can, and man, I like everything I’m seeing. Ooh, nice and natural.”

  “Oh my God, Tig,” Charlotte giggled when he dove closer to examine her soft lower curls. He winked and then kissed her mound before sighing and resting his head against her thighs.

  “I wish you . . . ,” he began, but then he shook his head and kissed her again. He was not going to risk ruining the morning.

  Charlotte rubbed his close-cropped hair, enjoying the way it felt under her hands. She also relished the rough texture of his stubble on her thighs.

  Tig rubbed a callused thumb over her nipple until it stood out, hard and rosy. “You’re so . . . pink. No wonder you wear so much of that color.”

  Charlotte shrugged, shy again, trying to keep from feeling self-conscious about lying sprawled out in a fighter’s bed while he looked at all of her in the daylight—stretch marks and dimpled flesh and belly rolls—all of it.

  Her eyes closed as his mouth found that pert nipple, and he sucked and nibbled and licked. When Tig slipped a finger into her while still sucking, she groaned and bucked her hips. He responded with a chuckle and an additional finger. As his mouth roamed over her breasts, Tig’s fingers and thumb worked her core and clit until she thought she was going to die.

  “Tig, you’re gonna kill me.”

  She could feel him laughing against her breast. He removed his mouth, rested his chin on her breastbone, and looked at her adoringly, all the time thrusting and stroking those long fingers of his.

  “You wanna go another round with me?”

  Boy, did she ever.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “All right.” She laughed at Tig’s enthusiastic wiggling of his eyebrows. He slid his fingers out, and before he reached over to the small nightstand drawer, he nipped her sensitive inner thigh. Charlotte’s body jolted with gasp, and Tig wiggled his eyebrows more.

  “How did you learn to do all this stuff?” she panted.

  “Oh, honey, I did not learn anything; I’m a natural,” he said with a chuckle as he rolled the condom on.

  “Oh boy. And you’re so modest, too.”

  That got a full-bodied belly laugh from him, and he wiggled into the middle of the narrow twin bed and said, “Okay, darlin’, hop up.”

  “What?” Charlotte’s pretty smile faded.

  “Baby, I want you to ride me. I want to look at you.”

  “You can look at me when . . .”

  “No, I want to see all of you, and I can’t really get a good look unless you’re on top.”

  “Tig . . .”

  “Charlotte Markham, what did I tell you was gonna happen today?”

  “Um . . .”

  “I said I was gonna look at all of you. And what else?”

  “You were . . . going to . . .”

  “Honey, what did I say? What did I promise you? Tell me. Say it, Charlotte.”

  “That you were going to watch as you buried yourself in me. . . .”

  “I keep my promises. So hop up. Let me see you.”

  His words were a bit harsh, but his kisses were sweet and convinced Charlotte to straddle his legs. Tig’s hands instantly went to her ass, and he scooted down the bed so that their bodies lined up perfectly.

  Tig grabbed his hard-on and dragged the tip along her seam. “Oh, I think I’m ready, Tiggy,” Charlotte said in a near moan.

  “Oh, Charlotte, I know you are; I can smell you.”

  Charlotte’s mouth dropped open at Tig’s dirty talk, but he just grinned and moved his hips so that he just barely was inside her.

  “You keep that mouth open and I’m gonna have to find something to fill it up, but right now, I’m gonna watch me go into that pretty pussy of yours.”

  “Oh my God, Tig . . .”

  “Oh, hell yeah, Charlotte,” Tig groaned as he started to sink into her. “Damn, baby. Lean back, I want you watch, too.”

  She complied, and they watched as he rocked into her slowly, inch by inch, until she had consumed him completely.

  Tig held her hips immobile for a moment, and he closed his eyes. “Fuck yeah, that’s good,” he said. He thrust upward twice, then his eyes snapped open. “Come on . . . ,” he said and started moving.

  Charlotte balanced on his chest, her fingers splayed on his tattooed pecs as she moved with his rhythm. She pushed against his chest as he thrust up into her, both of them groaning and grunting with pleasure.

  “Let it go, Charlotte. Be loud. Do whatever you want, baby. Don’t hold back.”

  Charlotte shifted, and soon Tig had his feet flat on the bed, pelvis lifted, as Charlotte lay back against his thighs while he bucked.

  Tig grinned. He grasped a hard nipple between the forefinger and thumb of one hand, and the other he pressed against Charlotte’s nub, and she shuddered and bucked and cried out his name.

  “Now, that’s what I like to hear,” Tig ground out and then answered her moans with his own cry. He continued to pump his hips, slowing as he spent, and finally Charlotte collapsed across his chest.

  “That’s what I’m talking about, Charlotte. You’re so beautiful when you’re in the moment. Well, you’re beaut
iful all the time, but man, when you let go, you’re incandescent.”

  “I cannot believe you’re using a four-syllable word after that,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “I barely know my name.”

  Tig tilted her chin with his thumb and placed a soft, sweet kiss on her mouth. “You don’t need to know your name; you just need to know mine.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Oh boy . . .” She laughed and buried her head in the crook of Tig’s neck. She heaved a sigh and said, “Thank you, Tig.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, it was definitely my pleasure.” Tig stroked her hair, and Charlotte wondered exactly what was going through his mind.

  “I need to take care of some girl stuff,” Charlotte said, and Tig was glad, yet again, that he had splurged on the room with the adjoining bathroom.

  “Bathroom’s right there, sweetheart. Is this solo girl stuff or could it be partner girl stuff?” Tig wiggled his eyebrows again.

  “Definitely solo girl stuff—at least the first bit,” she said with a laugh. “But we probably could both use a shower. . . .”

  Tig grinned that big smile of his and kissed Charlotte’s forehead. “Okay, you take care of your girl stuff, and then we’ll shower.”

  “Okay,” she said and gave him a peck on the lips.

  Okay, Charlotte, you can do this. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all.

  “Be sure to lock the other door, Charlotte. Dig’s not good with personal space.”

  She made a face. “Oh God, thanks for the warning.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath, got out of the bed, and scampered to the bathroom. Tig shook his head. He’d like to kick the shit out of whoever was responsible for making her so self-conscious about her body.

  “Tig?” Charlotte’s voice brought him out of his rumination, and her shy grin, along with the peek at the curve of her breast, drew him out of the bed and into the bathroom where the shower was already running.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey, pretty lady.” Tig bent down and kissed her sweetly on the mouth, his chuckle turning into a groan when Charlotte cupped his balls in her hand. Tig backed her into the shower and closed the door behind him, boxing her into the corner of the small stall, but the grin on her face said that she did not mind in the least.

  Charlotte had already poured soap in her hands and was running them over Tig’s chest and abs. Her fingers traced the words he had inked on his chest, moving over the lines of the script.

  “Is this all right? That I do this?” she whispered, still running her hands over his tattoos, now tracing the Chinese characters on his shoulders and upper arms.

  Tig did not say a word—just stood and let her explore him, get to know him.

  She skimmed her fingers down across his flat abdominals, tracing the Gothic script there.

  “Faith.”

  “Yep.”

  “Why here?”

  “Faith’s not in your heart, not in your head. Hell, if faith had anything to do with your noggin, I’d have it tattooed across my forehead.” He chuckled. “No, faith is purely in your gut, and when someone attacks your faith, you feel it in your core. That’s why.”

  “Boy, you are something else, Tig Mashburn.”

  He huffed a laugh and bent down to kiss her, pulling her tightly to him.

  “I thought you didn’t want me to smell like your soap,” Charlotte whispered breathlessly after Tig finished with his latest round of kissing.

  “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I want my scent on you so everyone knows you’re mine,” Tig said as he lifted her up so she was standing on the shower’s bench seat.

  “Oh.” Charlotte ran her hands over Tig’s burred head, and he smiled that sweet smile up at her before winking at her and burying his face between her thighs. He growled deep in his throat and pulled one of her legs over his shoulder so he could get better access, and Charlotte whooped and laughed as she grabbed onto Tig’s head to keep her balance.

  She rested her upper shoulders against the wall while Tig licked and sucked and bit at her, making her whimper and gasp and cry out.

  “Oh, holy crap,” she wheezed. “You’re gonna kill me, Tig.” And Tig just gripped her harder, digging his strong fingers into her ass as he burrowed deeper into her pussy.

  “Tig, man, you must be some sort of wound up about Little Miss Suit. How many times do you need to jack off?”

  Tig’s head jerked back, and he and Charlotte could see Dig’s huge figure through the frosted glass of the shower door.

  “I had to pee, dude, and you’ve been in here for . . .” Dig’s voice trailed off as he caught sight of Charlotte’s eyes above the door. “Oh, shit . . .”

  “Get the hell outta here, Dig,” Tig barked.

  “Sorry, man. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Dig yelped as he scrambled to get out of the small bathroom.

  “I am so sorry, Charlotte,” Tig started to say, but his voice trailed off when he saw Charlotte’s eyes screwed tightly shut and her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Charlotte?”

  Charlotte guffawed. She laughed so hard that she thought she might fall over, so she grabbed onto Tig’s head and wrapped herself around it while she giggled. After Tig recovered from his shock, he began to laugh as well.

  “Oh, man,” he said as he turned the water off and pulled a towel off the rack to wrap up Charlotte.

  Tig ran the towel over Charlotte’s body, dabbing the moisture and drying her off before lifting her off the bench and standing her on the floor of the shower stall.

  “Your turn, Tig,” she said with smile. By the time she finished drying him off, Tig was rock-hard and panting with lust, so he pulled her out of the bathroom and with a slam to the bathroom door and decisive click of the lock, he threw her onto the bed, still laughing.

  Tig groaned as he fumbled for the telephone that buzzed incessantly on his nightstand, especially because he knew who was calling.

  “You need to get going, don’t you? I suppose I should get going as well.” Charlotte sat up in the narrow bed and ran her fingers through her hair, mussing it further. Tig huffed a laugh at her, and he could not resist running his hands over the soft skin of her back. Charlotte’s eyelids drooped, and she leaned into Tig’s hands. “This is not motivating me to get going, Tig.”

  He did not want to leave the soft nest of the bed, but he knew he needed to get down to the farm.

  “Come to Montezuma with me. You can see the farm and groves, maybe the horses.”

  “You’re asking me to come home with you? Really?”

  Tig grinned up at her. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “Would we come back tonight?”

  “We can. Sure.”

  “I’d like that.” Her smile was bright and clear, and it almost broke his heart how beautiful she was.

  It was not long before they were ready and out on the road, riding in Tig’s little truck with the windows down and singing along to Conway Twitty at the top of their lungs.

  Charlotte looked out the truck’s window as they drove through the countryside, letting her mind wander. She could not remember the last time she had been this relaxed, this content. Surely it could not all be attributed to the sex, could it? She shifted in her seat and was reminded again how thoroughly Tig had loved her the night before.

  After their shower, he had thrown her around like a rag doll, adjusting her limbs in ways that she did not know they moved. He left love bites on the insides of her thighs and on her breasts, and her skin was deliciously sensitive from the rub of his stubble over it. It was wonderful.

  “You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Mm-hmm. A little bit saddle sore, maybe.” Charlotte’s cheeks pinked up, and Tig took her hand and kissed her fingers. Totally worth it.

  He huffed a laugh. “Probably a good thing that we ran out of condoms, then,” he remarked, but Charlotte did not miss the pleased look on his face.

  “I figured we’d go to the fields first thing and then to the pecan grove,” Tig said as he turned off the highw
ay onto a smaller road that wove back into the farmland of middle Georgia. They bumped and jostled down the dirt road lined on either side with small plowed fields until they got to a gated entrance. The wood sign was a bit weathered, but the painted lettering proclaiming “Mashburn Farms” was fresh and bright.

  Tig hopped out of the truck and opened the gate, and they made their way into the field.

  “Welcome to the glamorous world of peanut farming,” he said with a grin when he got back into the truck.

  Charlotte smiled back at him. “You know, I totally thought you were kidding about being a part-time peanut farmer.”

  “Nope, not kidding at all.”

  She sensed that Tig did not want to talk more about the farming part of his life, so she let the conversation drop and went back to gazing out the window.

  They talked about peanut planting logistics for a bit as they wandered through the empty, plowed field. Tig stopped every now and again to scoop some soil into a baggie and label it.

  Charlotte watched him closely during their walk. Tig, normally quick to smile and quite talkative, seemed to retreat into himself, and she did not know if he was just concentrating on the soil samples or if there was something else on his mind. She suspected the latter.

  “You okay, Tig?”

  “Yeah, just thinking.” He added with a wink, “And you know that’s always dangerous.”

  Charlotte shook her head at his deflection, understanding inherently that this was a closed subject, and went to his side and gave him a hug.

  “Thanks, Charlotte.” Tig looked overhead. “Let’s go to the grove real quick. I don’t like the look of that sky.”

  They made their way back to the truck as the clouds began to build, hastening the oncoming dusk during the five-minute drive to the pecan grove. Tig shook his head. Crazy-ass weather.

  “I just need to take a look at the grove, and then we can be on our way back to Atlanta. We don’t even have to get out of the truck.”

  Tig and Charlotte drove through the smallish grove, maneuvering slowly between the trees, Tig making notes in a small notebook. Charlotte was amused to see that, despite Tig’s being left-handed, his writing was much neater than hers.