Fighter Daddy: A Bad Boy Secret Baby MMA Sports Romance

by Marci Fawn

  * * *

  I don't stay around for congratulations and the after-party. Mr. Gerrard is an asshole, but he has a lot of other assholes working for him. I don't doubt they're all packing tonight. It's better I don't show my face to him for a while. Rumor has it the man has not been in a good mood lately. Something about a girl walking out on him. He never had a long fuse, but being left by his own woman has only made his temper worse.

  I need a place to lie low. Dad's invitation couldn't have come at a better time. He wants me to tag along for a visit to the outskirts of town and that the purpose of it would be to introduce me to his new woman and her step-daughter. I couldn't care less about which gold-digger Dad is sticking it to this time, but why the fuck not? I need to be somewhere they'd never think to look for me, and isn't family important and shit?

  With plenty of money to spare now, thanks to my unwitting sponsors, I buy a decent bottle of wine and get on my way. Dad texts me the address, clearly surprised I'd show up. He disowned me years ago when I got kicked out of the Marine Raider Regiment.

  He had been so fucking proud to have a Marine son, which made him all the more mad when I was let go, to put it nicely. Now old age is making him sentimental. Lately he's been trying to get to know me again. Hah, again.

  He never knew me to begin with. We're not cut from the same cloth, he and I. He's a top-notch lawyer now that he's a civilian, and me... I'm a fighter. The military was the only connection we had and after my dismissal it's only one more subject we don't bring up. I can't imagine what we will talk about now.

  The fucking weather?

  I cover up my wounds as well as I can. No use getting into an argument with the old man, drawing attention and causing trouble.

  Turns out the new chick, Susan-something, is pretty hot for an older broad. An ex-homecoming queen, she quickly informs me, smiling as she sneaks a peek at my pecs. Wow. Classy pick, Dad. Apparently we have more in common than we thought. Men are the same everywhere it seems.

  I haven't been forced to make bullshit small-talk for a very long time when the doorbell rings. As Susan runs to the door, Dad quickly hisses that I better behave myself in front of the girls. I shrug and grin, making him glare at me, but what do I care? I'm twenty-six. He can't fucking ground me.

  I hear the girl asking something about a blind date. The voice sounds familiar somehow, a blast from the past. Dad goes to introduce himself. I get a beer and then join to check the newcomer out.

  Oh fuck yes.

  It seems that fate doesn't want me to be bored while I have to avoid the ring for the time being. The knock-out at the door... I know her. Look at little miss Raina Feston, all grown up now. We went to high school together. I'd recognize her ridiculously long golden brown hair anywhere. I can feel my cock growing hard instantly, the remaining emotions of the fight only urging me on.

  Fuck me, she's hotter than a firecracker. Big green doe eyes, lips made for sucking cock, ass out of this world. I remember her tits fitting perfectly into my hands. My palms are bigger now, but thank the Lord, so is her rack. I grin in anticipation, forcing myself to stay still and wait.

  Oh yeah, I know Raina Feston well. In high school, she wore her light brown hair in two long braids. My cock throbs painfully when I think of holding onto both of them as I rode her tight, thick ass. She screamed her voice hoarse, howling my name like she knew no other words. She probably didn't by the time I was done with her. I wonder if she's still mad I stood her up for the prom.

  Her pussy was one of the best I ever had, not that I told her that. She was a mousy little brat then, but look at that girl now. I have to have her like my life depends on it.

  Judging by the way her eyes are eating me up, I don't think she'll protest much.

  This evening just got so much better.

  Raina

  The drive over to my Aunt's that night is worryingly unfamiliar. I should visit more, as soon as I have dealt with my problems. The woman raised me as her own child after my Mom – her sister – died in a car crash and I was left an orphan.

  My father, whoever the fuck that prick was, never showed up. I feel a tinge of guilt over being ungrateful, but only for a second. I don't want Aunt Susan to have anything to do with the mess I'm in. Even now it feels like I'm dragging Ricky Gerrard with me everywhere I go, his dark shadow peeking over my shoulder.

  I wish there was a handbook for this. Getting Away from the Mob for Dummies or something like that.

  I check my makeup in the rearview mirror. After all these years, I'm still sometimes caught off-guard by what I see. I was an ugly duckling in high school. I had no idea how to wear my light brown hair that just kept growing, so it was usually a mess. No sense of style either. Blouses too big for me, making me look like I was wearing a bag, always jeans or pants, and never a single skirt. A true tomboy, but I got better.

  It was ironic, in a way. I prided myself on understanding the female body and dressing it to perfection, but somehow I never realized that I should be practicing what I preached on myself. In my senior year I started to look like a woman, after finally coming to grips that I was never going to be a size zero.

  I design for size zeros. I have met maybe one or two who don't hate themselves, girls with simply amazing metabolisms and the will to devote time into being as rail-thin as the industry demands them to be. Most of the rest dream of burgers every night and have more body issues than I ever could have. In comparison, I’m happy to be on the other side of the runway.

  The person looking at me from the mirror is a young, healthy woman. I smile at myself, happy with who I am. I have curves and I wear them well if I do say so myself. The moment I stopped worrying about everybody else and made peace with myself, it was like a light was switched on. Guys who never looked my way before started asking me out.

  My hair is up in a French braid today, framing my face. I notice with satisfaction that Ricky hasn't taken the spark from my green eyes yet. They shine back at me, emphasizing the smile on my lips.

  I worked hard to get where I am. The texts knocked me off balance today, but I won't let them take me down. Ricky won't take me away from myself. I owe him his money, but nothing else. I don't think I'd make a good mob wife in any case.

  I arrive at my Aunt's house feeling considerably better than I did earlier on the way. I blocked Ricky's number and there hasn't been any more texts. I know it's a risky move; guys like him have had the word no surgically removed from their brain, but I won't give up. I will take my freedom.

  The house, an older two-story building that has been nicely renovated, seems almost empty from the outside. As I walk up to the door, the guilt returns. I really haven't seen Susan in a long while. She never calls unless it's something very important, but I never do either. The call function works both ways, after all. I grew up with her, but I couldn't say we've ever been close.

  I ring the doorbell, hearing male voices inside.

  Oh God, if this is another set-up...

  I pray that Aunt Susan didn't get the idiotic idea of trying to fix me up for a date again. I'm way past the age of play dates and I'm perfectly capable of finding my own man. But my appetite for men is somewhat diminished after Ricky.

  Susan Feston opens the door, looking exactly like I remember her. She's one of those lucky women who never seem to grow a day older, all the while aging very gracefully. Hair as long as mine, the pride of the women in our family. Hers is darker, done up in a beautiful and intricate hairdo that I recall her wearing to fancy occasions when I was a child. She's dressed in a dark red sweater with a V-neck and suit pants, smiling the smirk I also inherited.

  "Sweetheart," she says.

  We share a crushing hug. It's her way of doing things: being completely absent and then acting like we saw each other yesterday.

  "If this is a date for me, I'm leaving right now," I tell her at once, preparing myself for the worst.

  Susan laughs, shaking her head.

  "No dates, Raina," she says. "At
least not for you."

  "Oh God," I groan, "please tell me you didn't drag me here to introduce another of your—"

  I trail off, plastering a wide smile on my face as a man steps into the hallway. He is tall and very stoic, that's my first impression. Military man, possibly. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. My uncle was a veteran and after his death when I was twelve, Aunt Susan has been dating left and right. They never stick, they never stay, and they all look like poor copies of her first husband.

  This one is slightly better, though. There's nobility to his look. His hair is black with gray moving in, and he has sharp and serious brown eyes, with a stern look that his thin lips and long nose only accentuate.

  "Raina," Susan says, "allow me to introduce my future husband, Philip Mason."

  The sparkling diamond ring on her finger threatens to rob me of my sight when it's shoved into my face for inspection. I know I'm expected to coo and squeal, but my mind is blank.

  Your what now?

  I barely catch the wine bottle I brought along between my fingertips, my hands reacting as stiffly as the rest of me does to the news. The day seems intent to push me firmly from unreal to uncanny.

  Philip gives me a welcoming nod. Another man emerges from behind him and I briefly consider throwing the wine bottle on the floor and calling it quits.

  I think it's fair to say my jaw hits the floor. Not because he's a six foot and I-don't-know-how-many-inches tall walking powerhouse with hazel eyes that make my knees shake. I could say I want to know how many inches he's packing between his legs. The thing is that I already know.

  At the sight of me, his delicious, maddeningly kissable lips curl into the most seductive, devilish grin that promises me hell and heaven all rolled into one. A single glimpse of him makes me hornier than I have been in years.

  It's him. The guy I blew off a perfectly nice boy for, waiting for him to pick me up for the prom. He didn't. He left me standing in my prom dress, crying myself to sleep like some cliché from a bad eighties drama. He's the man I've been dreaming of and hating in equal parts ever since we lost touch after that.

  Seeing him makes me want to punch him in the teeth, which he deserves. And lick him all over, and trace every last one of his muscles with my tongue, which I deserve.

  Lee.

  Raina

  This can't be happening.

  Aunt Susan takes my stunned silence for disapproval. I see her frown and exchange a quick look with Lee's father. Her future husband. I’m suddenly shoved into a bad Saturday Night Live sketch masquerading as an engagement party. In a few minutes, someone will jump out of the closet and say I've been Punk'd?

  I should have brought a more expensive wine.

  "Raina..." Susan begins carefully, but I gather my senses and shake my head.

  "I'm okay, I am," I assure her. "It's just that this was so sudden."

  Susan looks relieved, Philip gives her the universal "I told you so" look, and Lee isn't fooled for a second. He leans on the door frame, winking at me. Tall, dark, and handsome. Also arrogant, selfish, and an entitled fuck if there ever was one. Philip and Susan are standing two feet away from us and he is mouthing obscenities to me behind his father's back. I see him push his tongue into his cheek and throw a nod to me then, the least subtle hint I've ever seen.

  Fuck no. Even if my body demands that I give in and do whatever he wants me to do. My body still remembers even if my mind doesn’t want to.

  Lee was the best-looking guy in school. I should have seen the prank coming when he invited me to the prom, but I didn't. Young girls believe what they want to believe. Sue me. And he was so cute. At least that's what my diary from those days says.

  He said all the right things, joked, played with my hair. For a while I believed he really liked me. And I fell like an apple from the tree right into his lap. Literally. The image is still clear in my mind.

  I remember him sitting under the tree, watching the view. He'd taken his dad's car and I was impressed. He drove me up to this secluded platform and I should have picked up the clues, but, hey, I was clueless then. The next thing I knew I was in his lap, grinding down on his cock, letting him rip my dress. I was so excited I could barely breathe.

  Lee carried me back to the car and would you believe at the time I thought it was romantic? Then he threw me into the back seat, which I thought was awesome and manly. He took me from behind like a real gentleman, pulling my hair and, honestly, hurting me as much as giving me the best orgasm I’ve ever had to this day.

  But I thought it was supposed to work that way so I screamed for him and that's how I lost my virginity. Then he stopped calling. Stand-up guy, this one.

  And here I am, wanting him to do it all over again.

  No. For God's sake, how does that man reduce me back to a horny teenager with just one look?

  I had such a crush on him back then. In the years after that I sometimes thought about him—all right, maybe a little more than sometimes—but I intended it to be nostalgic. From the bottom of my heart, I really believed that if I ever saw the arrogant fucker again, I'd tell him to fuck off. Now the words that come to mind are fuck me, fuck yes and fuck in general.

  "I should have told you sooner, I'm sorry," Aunt Susan is saying.

  Oh yeah, they're still here. I'd forgotten, due to being eye-fucked by the most irritatingly gorgeous man alive. High school crushes... why can't they stay in high school?

  "I told Susan it wasn't good to drop it on you like this," Philip agrees, apologetic. "It's big news."

  Yes. Yes, it is big news. So Susan's getting freaking married again, apparently. I tear my eyes off of Lee, who's looking at me like he’s going to rip my clothes off the second he gets me alone. I shake my head clear, focusing back on Susan and Philip. They're the reason why I'm here. I'm a grown-up woman, I can prioritize, even in the face of Lee Mason.

  I hope.

  "No, no, really," I say, directing my response to Philip more than Susan. "It's okay by me, honestly. You seem very nice and I can see that my Aunt is happier than I remember her being in a long time. I was surprised, that's all."

  They exchange a happy look now, while Lee is smirking behind them, mockingly bowing to me. That son of a bitch. I don't even dare to take a step further out of fear my legs won't carry me. Damn him for igniting every fantasy I've ever had about him in one instant. Of course it's my own damn fault for fantasizing about him all those years, but hey. If you saw him, you'd understand. No court would ever rule against me.

  I am led to the dining room and assured that I have no more surprises to expect that evening. I choose not to tell them that their upcoming marriage—while big news any other day—ranks only third in my surprises for today. Right after Ricky and Lee. Or Lee and Ricky.

  I am very thankful that they don't leave me alone with Lee for a minute. He never bothered to hide anything he thought or felt, and right now he's an open book to me. I pray that Susan and Philip don't pick up on it. I don't think I'd ever outlive that one.

  We're seated next to each other, with me facing Philip and Lee facing Susan. The table isn't very big and I can feel the warmth of Lee's body. His leg is pressed against mine. His scent carries easily over to me—strong, masculine, pure testosterone. No wonder my body is reacting the way it is. Two minutes in a room with Lee and I'm any female mammal, drawn to the strongest specimen like bees to honey.

  Susan and Philip tell us about their meeting and the wedding they're – I mean she is – planning, while I politely try to eat something. Even the smallest task seems like a chore, because Lee is exactly as I remember him.

  Back in high school, he was the guy all the girls wanted. In hindsight, it was pretty embarrassing. He was pretty much a king in a harem and could take his pick from the bunch of us. Of course, then I thought it was romantic, somehow. Him having all that power over us... God.

  He knew about my crush. I don't think anyone with half a brain could have missed that. And then Lee came and took what he wan
ted. And since I wanted him so badly, I gave him everything I had.

  What happened next didn't surprise anyone. In short, the guy isn't exactly a prince.

  So why am I letting him grope my thigh?

  Naturally, the reason is that I'm still that little girl that thinks Lee Mason is God's gift to women. Or at least to one woman. Me.

  I accept a drink from Philip very thankfully and down it with one gulp. Susan looks at me oddly, but writes it off as my reaction to her news. I get a quick refill and thank God for that, because Lee's hand is moving higher, bringing my skirt along with it. I don't know how it's possible that Susan and Philip notice nothing, but their expressions are pure glee.

  They talk about their awkward first date, then a few good ones. Confusion, doubts, then a happy proposal. It will all be soon followed by a beautiful private wedding in Hawaii—sorry you guys aren't invited—and a honeymoon in Paris. The whole package, it seems.

  I'm happy for them, I guess. Philip seems like a good guy, maybe he'll be the one to make Susan settle down at last.

  Only I've floated away to another plane of reality. Lee has drawn my skirt up as high as it goes and his hand is sliding up and down on my thigh. I can feel the strength in his arm, the power and the desire. His fingers grope my skin, soft and warm and firm. I have to bite down on my tongue not to moan.

  He isn't even doing anything that sensual; merely the idea of Lee touching me is making me so wet I think I'm going to come soon. That would be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me by far, so I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen just to prove a point to me.

  I try to take control of the situation and while Susan and Philip are looking at each other, I nudge Lee's hand away. I adjust my skirt and carry on with the conversation, which is about me now.

  Next to me, Lee grins that promising smirk and I see his eyes flash with lust. Don't I know anything? I shouldn’t make a challenge to a guy who lives for it. Dammit.