by Kar, Alla
“Come on, Taylor,” the announcer says from the opposite side of the ring. I’m not listening. I’m searching, searching … Brett jumps and I see everyone sitting in a corner toward the back. Thank, God.
The announcer yanks the mic from me and tosses his scrawny arm over my shoulder. “We want to see you fight, Jacks. You got a fight in you tonight?”
I shake my head. “Nope, I’m on vacation. You guys finish your fight.” I give a slight wave and start toward the door.
“I should have known he’d be chicken shit.”
Hell, no. Turning, I look over at Scarface. He’s bouncing around the cage jabbing at the air. His eyes are locked on mine as he juts his arm out in front of him. He snarls and spits onto the cage floor.
The announcer laughs. “It looks like we have ourselves a fight tonight, people! Come on, Taylor. You gonna let him talk to you like that?”
All the heat in my body has rushed to my neck. I’m shaking erratically and I can’t control the hunger to beat the fuck out of him. Fisting my shirt, I pull it over my head and toss it to the side. The crowd starts screaming.
I don’t look at Layla as I bounce in place. I can’t. I know this is stupid, but I won’t let someone punk me. It’s not in me. Scarface starts pacing across the floor, like a damn lion. I’ve never seen him fight so I have no idea what to expect. All I know is that I better whoop his ass while I have the chance.
The announcer starts banging his mic on the fence and laughing. “We have ourselves a fight. Let’s get this started, shall we? The rules are that there aren’t any rules. It’s a dog eat dog match. Let’s fight, baby!” Picking up the whistle, he holds it at his mouth for a second, smiling, before blowing it, loudly.
Scarface is running toward me before the announcer has time to get out of the way. His fist is held high above his head. He jumps, but I duck and stagger out of the way. I’m guessing country boys don’t mind some blood, obviously. Good.
The weak lighting above us hangs low and close to the top of the cage. It swings in the chilly breeze which makes the lights flicker. Despite the cold, sweat is dripping from my head. Seth turns on his heel and his eyes widen. A glimpse of anger flashes on his face but then he’s smiling again.
“Come on, Taylor. That all you got?” He wipes at his head with the back of his hand.
He has no idea …
Stepping forward, I swing a right uppercut and hit his jaw, on the same side as earlier. A spray of blood squirts from his mouth and he spits a puddle of it onto the floor. He watches the blood drip from his lips for a few seconds before meeting my glare. His chest is falling uneasily. He’s losing it. I’ve seen that look way too many times. On my dad’s face, on my opponent’s face and on my own.
Yelling, he runs toward me swinging and jabbing into the air in front of him. His fist grazes my cheek and the friction burns. I’m not used to getting hit. I haven’t been hit in a while, it stings but nothing like he’s going to be feeling. It sends my adrenaline into a whirlwind inside of me.
He takes another swing, and I jerk my head to the side, and slam his head onto my knee. The crack is loud and I hear it over the sound of the crowd. Blood runs down the length of my jeans toward my shoes, soaking into the fabric. Scarface falls over and catches himself with his arms. Red is splattered over his face and dripping to the floor along with his sweat.
I stay a few feet back as he crawls to his feet. When he turns my breath catches in my throat. His nose is fucking broken. Not that I expected less, but the look in his eyes is scary as fuck. They are dark, and his lip is pulled up into a sneer. “You’re going to die, Jacks,” he mouths to me.
Gesturing for him to come close, I curl my two middle fingers toward myself. He spits out blood before bouncing toward me. His swings have increased speed, and I feel the power behind each swing as they come an inch in front of my face. He’s going mad.
A growl is coming from his throat and he is madly punching the air in front of me. Christ. I’ve got to end this. Twisting to the side, I kick his back until he falls to the floor in front of me. He twists around and stares up at me. He grins and shows me his blood covered teeth. Straddling him, he stares up at me. “You gonna finish me off, big boy? Or are you scared?”
“What do you think?” I ask. Smirking, I give him one good, hard punch and he’s out.
The announcer is screaming my name along with everyone in the building. Everything is a blur in front of me. Seth is still passed out on the floor, his limbs outstretched beside him.
The announcer places a wad of cash into my fist. Grabbing my shirt from the floor I rush through the screaming girls toward the corner where Layla is hiding behind Brett. Her eyes are wide, tears coating them.
“Are you okay?” I ask, not recognizing my rough voice.
She nods. “Something is wrong with him,” she says, pointing toward the cage. “I’ve seen him before. I’ve seen him somewhere before, I just can’t remember … ”
Sliding into my shirt, I help Layla into my hoodie. “Probably on the damn ID channel. He’s nuts. Let’s get out of here.”
We all start toward the car, but before I can get into the truck, I see Seth standing at the gate. He’s bleeding profusely but keeps his eyes on me.
There is something wrong with him.
Chapter Three
Layla
I’ve never been so comfortable in my entire life. Warmth is wrapped around me, and I relax into the comfort. I’m contemplating stealing this bed when we leave. Stretching, I feel a heaviness pressed against me. I’d recognize that feeling anywhere. Taylor.
I move my ass closer to his front and he grumbles before wrapping a large arm around me. His hand falls to my side and I examine it. A light bruise covers his knuckles. This is something I suppose I’ve gotten used to. But, I don’t want my grandparents to see it. They’ll probably have a heart attack. They didn’t even realize when my mother married my dad that he had a bad reputation. When they found out they did whatever it took to keep my mom from my dad. Especially my grandpa. Obviously, it didn’t work.
Taylor’s breath tickles my ear. “I’m sorry about last night.”
He’s been apologizing since we got back last night. I don’t answer at first. I trail my fingertips along his bruised knuckles. “You did say no. I told you I’m not mad, Taylor.”
“I know. I just want you to know how sorry I am.” He nips at my earlobe and the scruff of his jaw scratches my neck. “He was asking for it.”
It’s true. I just don’t understand why. He seems so familiar, I just can’t place him. His face when he was fighting. I’ve seen it before. Somewhere. But, where? “Why don’t we stop overthinking it and take a shower … together. We have a long drive ahead of us today. We can cool each other down. Relax before we hit the road.”
God, that sounds good. Nodding, I pull the covers off of me and stalk toward the bathroom. Cindy and Brett are sound asleep, and I see Damon’s hand hanging off of the pull out bed in the living room.
The bathroom door clicks and locks behind Taylor. Even though I know what to expect and I know Taylor will please me, and we’ve had each other too many times to count, butterflies start to flutter in my stomach.
Taylor’s gaze travels down the length of my legs and to the tips of my toes like he’s never seen me before now. Taking me in with one solid, long look. “Goddamn, Layla. How did I get so lucky?”
I shrug and hold back my smile. “You’re hot.”
He lifts a pierced eyebrow and takes a step closer to me. “Really? So that’s why you’re with me, huh?” Another step.
“What can I say? You’re ‘The Taylor Jacks.’ I mean … I would be stupid not to jump on the Badass wagon before you’re a rich and famous fighter.”
He’s giving me a full-blown teeth showing smile. I love those the best. It melts my bones into goop. “Really? You sure it doesn’t have to do with my incredible sex? I’ve been told I can really lay it down. Of course, that’s hearsay.” He presses me
back up against the bathroom counter and stares down at me.
“That sex definitely makes it easier since I’m only with you for the money.”
“Yeah?” he asks, trailing his fingers along the edge of my thigh length shirt. “Let me see if I can make it even better?” Lifting the edge of my shirt, he pulls it over my head and tosses it onto the tile bathroom floor. He groans underneath his breath as he takes me in. I’m only wearing a pair of lacey, yellow panties. “You can’t wear something like that, baby, and expect me to ever be able to control myself.” Slowly he bends down and takes my nipple in his hot mouth.
Hot damn.
His fingers wrap around the curve in my side and squeeze as he flicks my nipple with his tongue ring. I cry out softly, desperately hoping no one wakes up and interrupts us. But, at this rate, I’m sure neither one of us would give a damn. It wouldn’t be the first time Taylor’s let someone bang on the door while he took care of me. Never stopping. Never even flinching from the thumps against the door. His gray eyes locked with mine, not letting anything disturb us.
He drops his right hand from my side and slips it between the fabric of my underwear and my wet folds. “Fuck, baby. It doesn’t get any better than this. Do you know that?” he whispers into my ear. He groans before covering my mouth with his. Each thrust of his finger makes my knees weak. I reach and fist his shirt into my hand and help him remove it. I trail my hand down his shoulder tracing the tattoos covering his torso. Each muscle tightens as my hands run over them.
“Umm, hustler,” he says, voice rough. “You’ve got about two more seconds of exploring before I rip those panties off of you and take you like I’m wanting to right now.”
“You’re so romantic,” I whisper, a smile riding on my face. He laughs while I unzip his jeans and push his boxers down to his ankles. He steps out and his laughing has stopped.
“Times up, Layla,” he breathes into my ear. I feel his erection poking into my stomach before he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. He caresses my ear with his tongue while I reach over and turn the shower on. He drops his head to the curve of my neck, repositions me on his waist and reaches under me to slide his fingers in and out of me.
“Oh, fuck,” I pant. I move against the pressure, my body taking over. Growling, he presses me against him and walks into the shower. The flow of warm water rains down on us but we don’t stop. My back is against the shower wall, water streaming down on us, as he continues to move his fingers in and out of me.
“That’s right, baby,” he whispers. “I want to feel you come against my hand.” Christ. Just his voice sends me over the edge. I yell his name, but he presses his mouth against me to drown out my cries. “God,” he whispers against my mouth.
Taylor presses his forehead against mine and watches me before reaching down between us. I feel his erection at my entrance. He screws his eyes shut and continues to rub against me. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles.
I pant. “I’m going to be so mad if you don’t get inside of me, Taylor.”
“Bossy,” he grumbles, nibbling on my ear.
“Tease.”
Taylor presses his teeth into his bottom lip and closes his eyes tightly. “Tell me to fuck you, Layla. Tell me you want me inside of you.”
Even though he knows I want him, there would be no denying it, I say it. “I want you inside me, Taylor. Fuck me.”
“Hmm.” He smiles and lowers his lips to my nipples. “Not … just … yet.”
Torture. I want to tie him up so he’ll never let go. Taylor lowers me to the shower floor, the water dripping down his body. It reminds me of the time we fucked in his shower at home. My hands had been tied and he was punishing me. It was painfully delicious. He kisses down my stomach and when his mouth reaches my thigh, I know where he’s going. And I can’t wait to feel his tongue ring on me. At the first flick of Taylor’s tongue on my clit, I have to bite the inside of my lip to keep from screaming his name. If Taylor Jacks can do anything right … it’s pleasure me. In any way possible. I intertwine my fingers into his dark hair and pull tightly. He reaches under me and cups my butt with his huge palms. My body is trembling now. I’m so close, again.
As soon as I’m about to soar over that edge, Taylor pulls back and locks eyes with me. My juices are on his thick, lips. Slowly, he runs his tongue over each lip, savoring the taste of me. He winks. I want to slap the shit out of him but then he sits up on his knees, water rolling down his body, and I want that more than anything.
Taylor hovers over me, hands on each side of my head, watching my face so intensely. Then he enters me. “God. So fucking tight. Fuck,” he whispers.
Taylor finally starts to move. I lift my hips giving him better access. Each thrust is heavenly. He bends down and takes my bottom lip with his teeth and pulls. It sends adrenaline pumping through my body. “Baby, you feel so right,” he says against my lips. The water mixes with our mouths, but I couldn’t care less. Just as an orgasm hits me, Taylor grabs my lower hips and thrusts into me harder, pushing me over the damn edge.
I’ll never get enough of this.
***
Taylor watches as I slip on a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie. My hair is in a high ponytail and I have a little bit of makeup on. Since we have another ten hour drive, I’m not getting too fancy.
Thump. Thump. Thump. “What in the hell are you two doing in there? Building a fucking house! Get the hell out. I need to wash my ass,” Cindy yells.
Taylor wraps his arms around my waist. “I guess our heaven was short lived. The beast from the black lagoon is ruining it.”
“I heard that, Taylor Jacks. Put your dick back in your pants and come on out, bastard,” she yells.
Taylor smirks and dodges Cindy’s fists as we walk out. “About freaking time,” she says. She looks like she’s been in a tornado with her hair all over her head. She sneers at us before shutting the door behind her.
Brett grumbles from the living room and tosses Taylor a bag of chips. “I’m sure you’re hungry after that long ass shower you guys took. Damn, were you having a sex marathon in there?”
Heat rushes to my neck and envelopes my entire head. We had taken a long time to shower after our second time. Taylor went for a third but the water was starting to get cold. “Shut up,” I say.
Damon walks over from his suitcase in the corner and sits on the couch beside Brett. He glances over at me and his eyes rake down my body. I squirm underneath his gaze. A look of pure lust is in his eyes, I can see it. “You look happy this morning, Layla.” He smiles. “I’m guessing it was good, huh?”
What. The. Hell.
“Hell yeah it was good,” Taylor says. “Not that you will ever have to worry about it.”
Damon lifts an eyebrow and grabs a cup of coffee from the table. “I’m sure that’s up to Layla, not you. Plus, how do you know if there is anything better if you don’t give it a try.”
Taylor steps forward but Brett shoots up and holds an arm in front of his chest. “Damon,” Brett warns. “I can only hold him back for so long. So, I suggest you shut the hell up, because the next time I’m going to let him whoop your ass. You’re asking for it.”
Damon rolls his eyes and nonchalantly sips his coffee like Taylor isn’t hovering over him with clinched fists.
“Can we talk about anything else,” I ask, “except for my sex life? God … grow up.”
Brett smiles over at me and wiggles his brows. “Look she’s turning red,” Brett says, pointing at my head.
I flip all of them off and walk back into the bedroom to hide in embarrassment.
***
The trip to Dallas is long. We had a ten hour drive ahead of us and I’m surprised we haven’t killed each other by now. Damon and Taylor have been down each other’s throats the entire time. Taylor has even pulled over twice, and Brett had to keep Damon in the backseat to prevent a fight. Bastards. The Dallas sign comes into view and my heart beat starts to increase. We don’t live in Dallas, it’s more
on the outskirts and hidden behind a forest, but this is my home. My home I’ve been running away from for three years. Taylor hasn’t said anything in the last ten minutes, but I notice his thumbs tapping against the steering wheel.
He’s nervous. It’s terribly cute.
I hide my smile but reach over and grab his hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”
He nods and keeps his eyes on the road. Thirty minutes later we’re pulling into the dirt road that takes us back to my grandparent’s farm. The oak trees on the side are leafless and everything looks dry and cold. It doesn’t get really cold in Texas, not compared to Ohio, but it’s still cold.
The dirt road ends and my grandparent’s old white house is sitting in front of us. It’s nine at night, but the porch lights are bright enough for us to see. Cinnamon, our basset hound, is wobbling toward Taylor’s Hummer as soon as we park, barking like a lunatic.
Cindy lets out a whistle. “You weren’t joking. This is in the middle of nowhere.”
I swallow. “I warned you,” I say, grabbing the door handle. Mittens meows underneath my arm and I scratch her head. I turn to Taylor. His eyes are a little wide but he doesn’t say anything. “Let’s get our bags and get inside. My grandma is waiting up on us.”
Everyone grabs their bags and we start toward the house. Cinnamon comes and paws at my feet. I bend and scratch her floppy ears. She barks up at Mittens, but she just paws the dog’s head. “Hey, Momma. Did you miss me?” She stomps her foot on the ground in time with my scratching.
The screen door of the house opens with a squeak and my grandma steps out onto the porch. Her gray hair has gotten longer, and she has it back in a low ponytail on her neck. Her long nightgown is fluttering in the cool wind. She reminds me of the old woman on Titanic.
“Baby,” she whispers. Her voice brings tears to my eyes. Dropping my suitcase on the porch, I take her in a hug. She rocks us back and forth. I’ve missed the lavender smell of her. Her soft skin that always soothed me with hugs. “I’ve missed you so much, Layla girl.”
