“So yeah, probably I’ll die in a fight. Or just getting mugged or some shit.”
“I don’t think you’d have trouble with a couple of muggers.”
“Not if they wanted to fist fight,” he said. “Or hit me with a chair. But a gun, that I’d have some trouble with. Or a machete.”
“Baseball bat?”
“I think I could take a mugger with a baseball bat.”
“Let’s hope we never have to find out,” I said.
“Agreed.”
* * *
We walked back to the office hand in hand. I felt like a highschool girl. All fluffy inside. Puppy love. I know it was silly. But feeling his strong arm against mine. His fingers in between mine. It just made me feel that same happiness that a kid feels when they see a kitten.
I could tell that he was taking his time on the stairs, even though he probably could have run all the way up the three flights without breaking a sweat. But he didn’t want to run ahead of me. That was the whole idea. He wanted me to slow him down. Make things nice and simple for him, every now and then.
We got to my floor just as Derek was leaving the office. He saw us holding hands and bee-lined in our direction.
“So,” he said, glaring at me, “How was the date?”
“It was nice,” I said, holding onto Malcolm’s arm with both my hands.
“Did you have fun too?” he asked, looked up at Malcolm. Malcolm must have stood at least a foot higher than him, and probably a hundred more pounds.
“I did,” said Malcolm with a smile. “Jessica here is a great girl.”
“I bet you had an easy time getting her to date you,” he said. “No problem at all with those big swollen muscles.”
Malcolm looked at me. “It actually wasn’t that easy.”
“I’m sure things will get much worse once she sees how tiny your testicles are from all the steroids.”
Malcolm squeezed my hand tightly, and then let go. He took a step towards Derek. “I don’t take steroids.”
“What, then?” said Derek, in a more aggravated voice than I’d ever heard coming out of him. “Implanted muscles?”
“I get my muscles from fighting,” said Malcolm.
Derek laughed. I was actually kind of impressed by how unintimidated he seemed to be. “Sure. How about you and me fight, then? Prove that’s where your muscles come from?”
Malcolm turned around and looked at me, a wild spark in his eyes. He never said no to a fight. “Absolutely,” he said, taking a step back. “Just tell me a time and a place. And any rules you’d like. I could beat you both hands behind my back.”
“Five after five,” said Derek. “Parking lot.”
“Hands behind my back?” asked Malcolm.
“No need,” said Derek. “I train every morning for forty minutes. I know what real muscles look like, and it’s not like that.”
“Well I’m sorry that your training has gone to waste,” he said. “I’ll see you after five.”
Malcolm turned, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and then trotted back down the stairs.
“Sorry,” Derek said to me. “I just hate to see a guy taking advantage of you like that.”
I just stared at him for a moment. “You’ve made a huge mistake,” is all I said before walking back into the office.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” said Samantha. “Horrible date?”
I crossed my arms and put the both on the counter above Samantha. “Wonderful date.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Joe’s,” I said. “Not the most romantic. But it was really nice.”
“You’re just so in love that it doesn’t matter where you are,” she said, half-mocking. “So why has all the blood run out of your face?”
“Derek,” I said.
“Finally realized that he’s the one you should be with?”
We both laughed.
“No,” I said. “He just challenged Malcolm to a fight.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I guess he hates the idea of me dating someone.”
“But Malcolm said no, right?”
“Malcolm has a rule. He never turns down a fight.”
“Never?”
“That’s his rule.”
“That’s not a very good rule. Every good rule has exceptions,” said Samantha.
I thought about that for a second. “Maybe,” I said. “I just hope that Derek doesn’t, like, die.”
“Is that the kind of thing Malcolm would do?”
“I… don’t think so.”
“Good,” said Samantha. “Anything less than that he probably deserves. He’s been bugging your for years.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Well I’m going to try and get some work done before he gets back.”
I sat down at my desk and panicked all afternoon. About the fight. I don’t know what Derek was thinking, challenging Malcolm to a fight like that. And I had no idea what kind of trouble I could get in if my boyfriend beat up my coworker. Maybe not much. Maybe I could be fired.
But there were some nice feelings as well. A boyfriend who was going to hurt the man who had bugged me for so long. A boyfriend, just that on its own felt nice. Derek was just going to get exactly what he asked for - a fight with Malcolm. It wasn’t my fault, or even Malcolm’s really, that Derek was going to lose. He shouldn’t have picked a fight with my boyfriend in the first place.
Derek sat there fiddling with his pen most of the afternoon. Maybe he was reconsidering, but it was too late to turn back. He had to prove that he was the alpha male.
Five o’clock rolled around eventually. I left immediately, and Samantha followed. Derek was already there, in the parking lot. A few minutes later, he walked up to Samantha and me, who were standing near the exit where the people were filing out.
“Looks like he’s not going to show,” said Derek. “I thought your boyfriend was a bit tougher than that.” He was using a fake strong man voice that didn’t suit him at all.
“It’s only four after,” I said.
“And maybe he’s planning a sneak attack,” said Samantha.
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Wouldn’t put what past me?” asked Malcolm.
Derek jumped, but tried to act like he hadn’t.
“We doing this?” asked Malcolm. He took a step back and got into position.
“Absolutely,” said Derek, throwing up his fists, thumbs on the inside, and knees not bent at all.
Malcolm looked Derek up and down, observing his stance. “Are you kidding me?” he asked.
“You’re not going to talk your way out of this one,” he said.
“You’re serious.”
“Are you not?”
“Man, thumbs on the outside of the fists. Otherwise a solid punch will break your own thumb.”
Malcolm had completely dropped his guard, standing there just like he would normally. Still wearing that button-up shirt that was so out of character for him.
Derek ran at him, adjusting his thumbs based on the advice, and then started pummeling him. Hit after sloppy hit, landing directly onto Malcolm’s chest. Malcolm just stood there. He looked over at us. He wasn’t even getting pushed back at all. It was like Derek was punching a wall.
“Too scared to fight back, are you?”
“Kinda,” said Malcolm. “I don’t want to break you.”
That just made Derek’s barrage of useless punches speed up. Malcolm looked down at them. A moment later, Derek was tired out and he stepped back, keeping his hands up in that never-before-practiced position.
Then Malcolm brought his fists back up. In mimic slow motion, he took two steps towards Derek and then threw a jab. It went right through Derek’s defenses and landed squarely on his sternum. There was a loud thud and Derek stumbled back, gasping.
“Oh you fucker,” he said. He ran towards Malcolm, who I could tell wanted to just knock him the fuck out. Be he just side stepped, leaving one foot behind for Derek to trip on. He ca
ught himself before he hit the ground, but Samantha and I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit.
“You aren’t playing fair,” said Derek. “Fine. I won’t either.”
He got down on one knee as if he was going to tie his shoe. Then he pulled up one pant leg and removed a knife from his sock. A hunting knife, or something like that. Apparently Derek was the kind of guy who carried a knife.
I panicked for a moment, but then I looked back at Malcolm. He didn’t look panicked. Not one bit. His eyes followed the knife like a laser, but he didn’t look panicked.
Derek took a couple steps towards him, and Malcolm took a couple steps back, planning his next move. Then Derek took a running step.
It happened so quickly. Derek lunged with the knife towards Malcolm. Malcolm’s open hand slammed into Derek’s elbow. The knife fell from it. Malcolm caught the knife with his other hand and tossed it aside. And then, all of this in one fluid motion, landed a solid punch right on the bridge of Derek’s nose. You could hear the snapping noise over the sound of the knife clattering along the pavement.
“I didn’t want to do it, buddy,” said Malcolm. “I really didn’t. But you can’t bring a knife to a fist fight.”
Derek was bent over, pinches his nose. Blood was dripping out onto the pavement, forming a puddle underneath that he was trying to not get his shoes in. “I’ll sue,” he said. “You can’t do that to people.”
“Go ahead,” said Malcolm. “I’m pretty sure it’s legal to break the nose of someone who’s coming at you with a knife. I could have killed you and not served jail time for it.”
With that, Derek ran off, head down. Malcolm turned to Samantha and spoke as if nothing had happened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“I’m Samantha.”
“Samantha,” he repeated. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Thanks,” she said.
He walked over and picked up the knife. It was six inches long, and serrated. “Think he really would have stabbed me with this?”
“I think he’s pretty pissed off that someone’s dating his girlfriend,” said Samantha, elbowing my ribs.
“In his mind,” I said, “that’s probably exactly what’s going on.”
“Kinda sad, actually,” said Malcolm.
“Is he gonna be okay?” asked Samantha.
“Oh yeah. Broken nose. He’ll look funny for a while. Two black eyes. Like a raccoon. But it’ll heal. He won’t need to get it set or anything.”
He looked down at the knife.
“That would have hurt pretty bad going in,” said Samantha.
“I’ve had worse,” he said. “If he had known how to use this, I might have been in a tiny bit of trouble.”
“Just a tiny bit,” I assured Samantha.
“Well,” she said, “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Wait,” said Malcolm. He held the knife out to her, holding it by the blade. “Could you take this?”
She looked at him funny.
“You can give it back to Derek if you want. Or just keep it.”
“Why?” she asked.
“You’re less likely to get into trouble because of it than me,” he said.
“Sure,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll do my best not to stab anyone to death with it.”
He laughed, and she got in her car.
“So,” he asked, “what do you usually get up to after work?”
“Nothing exciting,” I said. “In fact, exclusively unexciting things.”
“Well I guess a knife fight in the parking lot was a welcomed change, in that case.”
“Yeah, actually. I might be okay with not doing anything exciting for the rest of the night.”
He looked at me. “Well we have to find some way to pass the time.”
I looked at him. “Your place or mine?”
“Mine,” he said. “You drive.”
We hopped into my car and took off down the road. I drove fast. Faster than normal. I couldn’t believe he’d just fought one of my coworkers. I wondered what would happen. What Derek would be like the next day. If I’d have to speak to management about it.
But my mind got distracted pretty quickly when his hand landed on my thigh. He looked up and me and I tried my best to stay focused on the road. Until we got back to his place, of course.
Chapter 7
We burst into his place like two teenagers into a house where the parents were on vacation. I unbuttoned his shirt while my lips pressed against his, and we stumbled back and fell down onto the couch, me on top.
My swollen lips mashed against his as I undid the final button, and then my small hands slid around either side of him, holding him in a tight embrace. His tongue found mine, and they played, sliding from mouth to mouth as our bodies began to grind. We were still dressed, apart from his unbuttoned shirt, but we just could not hold back.
I sat with one leg on either side, and my hands played with his body. It really was impressively muscular. Not a single bit of flab. Pretty much the opposite of mine.
But his hands played with me as well. He grabbed onto the bottom of my shirt, and pulled it up over my breasts. Fondling each other like there was nothing else in the world ever worth doing. Kissing each other like we’d drown if we ever stopped. Humping. Thrusting. Gyrating like we weren’t wearing pants.
I could feel it growing. I pressed down on it between my legs, applying pressure as I moved back and forth, back and forth, never letting the seal our mouths had created breaking. Every movement grew it more. Got him harder. Made me wetter.
He was pressing hard against the inside of his jeans. But I didn’t want to move on yet. I wanted to make him wait. I knew what he wanted. He wanted what most men want from their girlfriends. But I also knew that I was on top. And he wasn’t going to get it until I decided the time was right.
And for now I just wanted to continue kissing. We hadn’t kissed at all our first night together. And now I never wanted us to stop. It was like a game. My lips felt smooth against his. His tongue felt adventurous, and I couldn’t help but remember where it had been before. How it had made me feel. What he’d done to me afterwards.
I was just getting wetter. I couldn’t believe he was kissing me. Dating me. All these years thinking I was unattractive. Worrying about my weight. And now I’d landed the man of my dreams, to kiss all I wanted. It wasn’t a weight problem afterall.
And then I decided to stop. I sat up straight on him, with his manhood between my legs, pressed against my warmest parts. And I looked down at him. And he looked up at me.
I sat there. It would seem like I wasn’t doing anything, but I was doing quite a lot. I was teasing. I wanted him to ask for it. Maybe not directly - but somehow. I sat there perched on top of him and looked down, smiling.
“So…” he finally said, “do you want to…”
I slid off his lap onto the floor in front of him.
“What are you-”
I pressed a finger to his lips, and then slid my hands lower. Undid his belt, and then his pants. I slid them down around his ankles, and then looked at him for a moment.
He was big. I’d felt it before, but now I was seeing it. In the dim light from the kitchen, I stared at it. And I loved how it looked. Every part of him looked exactly how I’d hoped.
Slowly - so slowly I was practically still teasing - I began to move my hand towards him. And then I touched him. I grabbed hold of his hardness tightly, and started to move my hand up and down, watching his face as I did. Maintaining eye contact.
I could tell what he liked. I could tell what he wanted more of. I could tell what he didn’t want too much of. All of this by just staring into his eyes while I tried different things. Little gasps for breath. Twitches in his leg muscles. Throbs. All of it guided me towards what exactly he wanted me to be doing with him.
I got into a rhythm and he started to moan. That’s how good it felt. He couldn’t hold back. Couldn’t keep the noises of pleasure within - they were s
imply too powerful. And then I kicked it up a notch.
Without breaking eye contact, I leaned my head forward. I wrapped my soft pink lips around the tip, making sure to let the saliva fall where it may. And then slowly, eye contact maintained, I began to bob up and down.
I kept the same strategy that I’d used before. Watching carefully. Picking up every single hint that he dropped about what he liked. And after a bit of adaptation, I was only doing things that he liked. He liked it deep. He liked it fast. And I liked to give him what he wanted.
I fell into a natural rhythm. Something that was as comfortable for me as it was pleasurable for him. And then I just watched him writhe in pleasure. Felt him throb. Tasted the drips that came out early - and savoured that flavor.
The whole time all I could think of was how happy I was. Happy that I was in this position. Doing this not only for a man who I thought was incredibly beautiful - but a man who I was seeing. Dating. A man who wanted to try me out as his girlfriend.
And a dangerous man. A strong man. A fighter. I’d never done this for anyone like him.
You might think a manly man would be more conservative with his reactions. He would hide how he was truly feeling in a situation like this. But if Malcolm is any indication, that is exactly wrong. He was fully open with how everything made him feel. From his breath to his touch, he was not ashamed of how good it felt. And he wanted me to know, every step of the way.
Eventually he started to throb with a fast enough rhythm that I was going to miss my chance. So I pulled back and stared at it again. Soaking wet. Slippery. As hard as the rest of his body.
Then I stood up. I dropped my pants, and panties while he prepared himself. And I got back onto him - one leg on either side.
Slowly I lowered myself onto him, and accepted him into me. He embedded himself deeply inside of me, pulling me open. I was fully ready for him - watching him enjoy what I was doing was more than enough to get me going as well.
With my breasts still exposed, pressed right up near his face, I started to move. Nothing fancy. Nothing over the top. Just a basic rhythm that came to me from the primal part of my brain. The part with no goal other than pleasure and survival.
It was too much, and I began to gasp with every rotation. I could hardly keep the rhythm steady with the wave of pleasure rolling through me, but I persevered. Up and down and up and down. I tried to concentrate on that, but my mind was continually torn away by the feelings it was causing me.
Never Choose Flight (A Fighter Romance Novel) Page 6
