Broken: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance

by Scarlet MMA, Simone

  “We?” Silas growled. “Since when are you part of the ‘we’?”

  That hit Lyssa so hard, she nearly reeled.

  “This is my family’s problem. Not yours.” Silas growled. “You made that clear when you went back to America, all those weeks ago.”

  Taking a menacing step forward, Silas growled:

  “What makes you think you have any right to tell us what to do?”

  Lyssa’s eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them away. Anger bubbled up inside her instead.

  “So you’re going to blame me?” She growled. “Isn’t that what your brother did? Blamed you for going to America to become a fighter? And now you’re going to use the same bullshit on me?”

  She put her hands on her hips, and growled:

  “Well, I’m back now. Back with a chance to save this place. And for all your anger and judgment, I don’t see you coming up with anything better.”

  Silas blinked.

  His angry expression softened.

  “I-I’m sorry,” the big man’s shoulders slumped. “I was just…”

  Instinctively, Lyssa stepped forward, and grabbed one of Silas’ massive, gloved hands.

  “You just what?”

  Looking down at her with those big, brown eyes, Silas murmured:

  “I’m scared, Lyssa.”

  It’s funny, she thought to herself. This monster of a man was terrifying a second ago. Now he was hauntingly vulnerable.

  “Scared of what, Silas?” Lyssa stroked his hand. “Of fighting again? After what happened?” She nodded. “I understand. You don’t want to get injured again. I get it.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Silas straightened himself up.

  “You’re scared of losing, then?” Lyssa demanded. She squeezed his hand. “Silas, it doesn’t matter. Your money to show is $25,000. That’s all you need to save this place. Just show up. You don’t need to be scared about losing, because it doesn’t matter even if you do.”

  Silas’ brow creased, and he snatched his hand away.

  “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not losing I’m scared of.”

  And then he wheeled around, and took a powerful swing at the punching bag.

  It was the most forceful punch he’d thrown since Lyssa had been watching him – and it sent the punching back flying back like it was weightless.

  The chain snapped taut. The rafters creaked. And then, as the bag stretched the chain out to its fullest, there was an almighty snap from above them.

  The timber beam overhead came crashing down.

  Mercifully it missed both Silas and Lyssa – but the massive timber beam splintered as it hit the ground, and the heavy bag flew across the room and landed with a hefty thump in the corner.

  Dust clouded the dark, cold room. Thankfully, the ceiling stayed upright, despite the broken beam.

  Coughing, Lyssa waved her hand in front of her face to clear the dust.

  She saw Silas wheel around to face her, his face a mask.

  “I’m not scared of losing, Lyssa,” he growled menacingly. “I’m fucking terrified I’ll win.”

  Chapter Ninety Nine

  Lyssa

  Alberte and Celestina looked up nervously, as a sweaty and dust-covered Silas shambled back in.

  “Sapristi,” Alberte’s eyes widened. “What happened to you?”

  But Silas ignored the question.

  Glancing to his left – to make sure Lyssa was still standing resolute, by his side, Silas shook his head at his brother and confessed: “I’m scared.”

  Alberte’s anger from earlier dissipated immediately. Climbing out of his chair, he stepped forward and held out his arms.

  “I understand, hermano,” he moved to embrace Silas. “After all that happened…”

  “No,” Silas stepped back, out of his brother’s reach. “You don’t understand. I’m not scared of losing. I’m not scared of getting hurt again…”

  “T-then…” Alberte blinked. “Then what are you scared of?”

  “I’m scared I’ll win, okay?” Silas snarled, crossing his beefy arms across his massive chest. “I’m scared that after all that happened – after all this time – I’ll go back to America and do what I’d planned to do all along. Win.”

  Alberte blinked.

  “B-but… Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

  “But then what, Alberte? If I win this fight, I’ll be back in the championship. Maybe they’ll have me fight Magnus Bjorn again, or cut weight and join the heavyweight division.”

  He laughed bitterly.

  “And what then, brother? What if I finally get everything I wanted, after I’d finally given up on it all?”

  Alberte lowered his outstretched arms.

  “Entiendo,” he admitted. “I get it, now.” With a groan, the big man sunk back down into one of the kitchen chairs. “You are worried that if you win… You won’t come home again.”

  Silas shrugged his massive shoulders, in silent agreement.

  Alberte dropped his head, and stared at his feet.

  “But isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that why you left in the first place?” Silas’ brother shook his head. “Haven’t you been itching to get out of this place since you were a teenager?”

  “Si,” Silas nodded. “I was. But that was before I came back. I lost everything I’d been dreaming about…” And then he turned to look at Lyssa. “But I found something better, instead.”

  He reached his hand out, and curled it around her slender fingers. Lyssa gazed up into Silas’ big, brown eyes as he squeezed her hand.

  There was silence in the kitchen.

  Eventually, it was Celestina who broke the spell.

  “So, Silas. What are you going to do?”

  Silas took a deep breath. He pulled Lyssa close, and curled his arm around her slender shoulders.

  “I guess I have to do it,” he admitted, squeezing her close to him. “It’s my turn to step up, and I won’t let this family down.”

  Turning to his brother, Silas murmured: “I’m going to go back to America, and I’m going to do the only thing I was put on this Earth to do. I’m going fight.”

  Alberte and Celestina listened, nodding.

  “And I’m going to win,” Silas continued. “And then, I’m going to make sure Bodegas Batras is safe from the Buenaventura family forever.”

  Chapter One Hundred

  Lyssa

  It was close to midnight, and Silas was sitting on the steps of the courtyard, listening to the cicadas chirp in the vineyards in the distance.

  He was sipping a bottle of Estrella, knowing that once training had restarted, beer would be off the menu for weeks to come.

  The door of the house creaked, as Lyssa stepped outside.

  Silently, she sat down on the steps next to the massive fighter, and laid her head on his burly arm.

  He snorted happily, and curled his arm around her.

  “I’m happy you’re back,” Silas purred, squeezing her tight.

  Lyssa squeezed shut her eyes.

  She remembered the weeks spent fooling around with Travis and Nikolai. The humiliation in Vegas. The lonely nights in her cold, noisy apartment.

  “I should never have left,” she told him.

  Silas laughed again.

  “Nonsense,” he growled, sipping his beer. “If you hadn’t, none of this would have happened.”

  The big man turned and looked at her – his eyes huge and dark in the moonlight.

  “You came back to me, Lyssa,” Silas purred. “That means more to me than if you’d stayed.”

  And then he bent his head, and kissed her wetly on the lips.

  Lyssa squeezed her eyes shut and sighed, as she felt his mouth on hers. It felt like coming home again – warm, and soft, yet powerful and dominant.

  She shivered. A hot, needy throb pulsed between her thighs.

  “C-come inside,” Lyssa curled her fingers around Silas’ hand. “I need you.” And she clambered up, and pulled the
big man to his feet.

  * * *

  They didn’t make it upstairs. Instead, Lyssa dragged Silas into the ground floor bedroom he’d been sleeping in while he was confined to his wheelchair.

  The big, wooden bed was still laid out waiting for them.

  Silas practically picked Lyssa up, and threw her onto the blankets. Then, with a snarl, he was on top of her.

  Lyssa moaned, as she was crushed by the big man’s weight.

  His rough hands pawed at her clothes. His lips crushed hers. He was as powerful and relentless as a wild animal, and Lyssa happily surrendered to him.

  “You are so beautiful, cariño,” Silas growled, as he pulled her t-shirt over her head, and revealed her bra and tattoos. “I missed the feel of your body while you were gone.”

  And then his rough hands yanked down her pants, and soon Lyssa was naked except for her bra, squirming on the bed as Silas pulled off his own clothes.

  God, he was sexy, she thought.

  As she lay back and watched him pull his t-shirt over his head, she swooned a little at the Spaniard’s massive muscles, and dark, tanned skin.

  He looked as powerful as a bull; and as he wrenched down his pants and his massive cock sprang out, Lyssa realized that wasn’t the only similarity.

  But Silas didn’t pounce on her, like she’d anticipated. Instead, once he was naked, he pulled her thighs apart and buried his head between her legs.

  “Oh, fuuuuuck,” Lyssa arched her back and groaned, as she felt his rough, wet tongue slather between the lips of her quivering pussy.

  “Oh, cariño,” Silas purred, lifting his head from between her thighs for a moment. “I have missed the taste of you.” And then he was back between her legs, and his tongue was parting her wetness and swirling around her throbbing clitoris.

  “Oh, God….” Lyssa snaked her hands into Silas’s thick, black hair. “Oh, that’s amazing.” She guided his head as he feasted on her, until the relentless rush of an orgasm approached like a tidal wave.

  Balling her hands into fists, Lyssa pulled at Silas’ hair, as his tongue tipped her over the edge. A climax crashed over her like a tsunami. She shuddered, and cried, and arched her back as pleasure engulfed her.

  And then, whimpering and limp, she flopped down onto the bed; a lifeless and panting rag doll.

  Silas laughed triumphantly, as he lifted his head from between Lyssa’s trembling legs. Wiping her wetness from his mouth, he clambered up onto the bed, and slid between her legs.

  Gazing down at her, Silas reached between then to grasp the root of his swollen cock.

  The thick, throbbing head nuzzled between the dewy lips of her quivering pussy. With one thrust, he was inside her – and Lyssa’s cunt was so wet and eager she accepted him effortlessly.

  “Fuuuuck!” Her back arched as she was stretched, and filled by his massive cock. “Oh, God, Silas!” Her fingers clawed into the bare skin of his massive shoulders, and she shuddered in ecstasy.

  Soon, he was inside her all the way – right to the hilt inside her eager depths. The wooden bed creaked as Silas fucked her – deep, and slow, and relentlessly. He looked down into her wide eyes, and smiled as she mewled and whimpered in pleasure.

  “You came back to me, cariño,” Silas purred, reaching up to brush the hair from her face. “And now I’m never going to let you go again.”

  And, with that, Silas thrust himself as deeply inside her as he could, and exploded hotly.

  Lyssa cried out again, climaxing a second time as she felt his hot wetness flood her. For a moment they clung together, shivering in orgasm, and then the big man collapsed across her like a falling oak.

  Lyssa lay beneath his sweaty, panting bulk and shuddered deliciously.

  She could feel him, still inside her – softening slowly. She squeezed shut her eyes and luxuriated in the moment; feeling closer right now to that big, beautiful Spanish fighter than she ever had to anyone.

  And she just hoped that fate would keep them that way.

  Chapter One Hundred and One

  Lyssa

  When Lyssa awoke, the big bed was empty.

  She lay sprawled under the blankets, sticky and aching, and her body was eager for the memory of Silas’ big, warm bulk.

  But she knew where he might be – and, reaching for her pants, she clambered out of bed to find him.

  * * *

  Lyssa found Silas when he completed his second lap around the vineyard – two miles through ploughed dirt, barefoot and bare-chested.

  Staggering to a halt in the courtyard of Bodegas Batras, Silas slumped over and gasped in whooping lungfuls of air, as sweat poured down his muscular body.

  Lyssa was waiting for him on the steps, with a big glass of water in one hand.

  “Sapristi,” the big man groaned, wiping his dripping brow. “It’s been too long since I’ve done cardio.” He took the glass she’d offered him, and swallowed it down in three long draughts.

  “You’re not wasting any time,” Lyssa smiled, as she admired the athletic beauty of her powerful lover. “Shouldn’t you at least confirm you’re on board with Dan Blanc first?”

  Silas snorted, passing back the empty glass.

  “It’s still night time in America,” he told her. “And I still have two more miles to run.”

  And then, with a wink, he was off again – loping barefoot across the cobblestones with the majesty of a purebred Andalusian.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, the family gathered around Silas’ laptop in the kitchen, and the big Spaniard typed Dan Blanc’s name into Skype.

  A moment later, the connection was chirping – and then the CEO of the MMA League appeared on the screen; his face pixelated and choppy.

  “Silas Batras!” Dan Blanc grinned, recognizing the big Spaniard even through the distorted image. “I was hoping to hear from you.”

  The Spaniard snarled dryly: “Your girl got the job done.” He wrapped his arm around Lyssa’s shoulders and squeezed. “I’m calling you back, just like you asked me to.”

  Dan grinned.

  “So you heard the offer? Square off against Rashaan Jackson in Las Vegas, in six weeks’ time?”

  “Six weeks?” Silas’ eyes narrowed. “That’s not long.”

  “’Bruiser’ Broderick went up against James MacDonald with less than three weeks,” Blanc countered.

  “Si,” Silas nodded, “but he lost.”

  “Well, six weeks is the deal. Are you in, or not?”

  The truth be told? Silas didn’t even need to think about it. The deal was straightforward – and even after months out of training, he knew he didn’t have a choice.

  “I’ll do it,” Silas nodded. “For $25,000 to show, and the same again to win.”

  “Plus $10,000 if it’s by submission or knockout,” Dan added. “Don’t forget that. The crowd likes a show.”

  For a second, Silas paused. He’d watched the Rashaan Jackson’s debut fight on pay-per-view. The massive black fighter was a beast of a man – submission or knockout wouldn’t be easy in his case.

  But Dan Blanc was offering him more money than he’d ever made fighting in the MMA League – and more than enough to help secure Bodegas Batras for years to come, if he won.

  “I’ll do it,” Silas confirmed.

  “Great,” Dan grinned. “I’ll have the paperwork overnighted to you. When’ll you be back in the states?”

  Silas looked up, at his family and Lyssa.

  “I-I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “Well, make it soon,” Dan continued. “We need the television crew out to you. Photos. Interviews. Got a training venue set up? Somewhere to stay?”

  “No,” Silas admitted. Back when he’d been fighting before, there’d been Jared Hedberg to pay for all that stuff. Now he was on his own; and had nothing to fall back on.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Lyssa pushed Silas aside, and addressed Dan directly. “He can stay with me; and I’ll find him somewhere to train.” She
was already considering the contacts she had the New York area. “Send us airfare, and I’ll bring him back home even if I need to hide him in my luggage.”

  Dan Blanc laughed when he heard that.

  “Your boy Silas is a little big for carry-on,” he joked. “But get that paperwork signed, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  And then the call was over – and almost as abruptly as it had started, the screen went black.

  Lyssa turned to Silas and his family.

  “Well,” she forced herself to smile. “It’s done.”

  And Silas gulped dryly.

  He was suddenly getting thrust back into a world he thought he’d left far behind him. And he was excited.

  Chapter One Hundred and Two

  Lyssa

  “You ever watch Rocky IV?”

  Lyssa’s voice echoed through the barrel room, as she asked her lover the question. She was perched on an old barrel, watching Silas train with the weights in his makeshift gym.

  Halfway through some 150lb bicep curls, Silas wasn’t in much of a mood to answer – but through gritted teeth, he admitted:

  “N-no. I h-haven’t.”

  Thump!

  Having finished with the set, he dropped the loaded barbell to the mats.

  “Why?” Silas grabbed a towel off the bench, and wiped his dripping brow. “Is it any good?”

  Lyssa sipped from a bottle of water.

  “Rocky has to fight this Russian dude, out in the Soviet Union. So he goes to Russia and trains in a big, old barn. Bench-pressing bales of hay, and running through the snow. That kind of thing.”

  She snorted.

  “It made me think of you, working out in this place. Last time I was in Vegas I got a tour of the new MMA League headquarters. That place is like the Starship Enterprise compared to this.” She grinned mischievously. “I’m half expecting you to start bench-pressing wine barrels instead of weights.”

  Silas laughed sharply.

  “A barrel of our Gran Reserva weighs nearly 700lbs,” he laughed. “That’s a little heavy even for me.”