Fighting For Your Touch (The Fighting Series Book 3)

by Nikki Ash

  Fighting For Your Touch

  Nikki Ash

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © self-published by Nikki Ash

  Cover design by Teal Minx Designs

  Edited by Lisa McKay

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at NikkiAsh519@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Dedication

  To my mom, who spent hours upon hours fostering my love for reading.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Fighting For a Second Chance

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Caleb

  Seven years ago…

  “What the fuck is going on?” My dad yells at me, red faced, fists tight at his side like it’s taking everything he has inside of him from punching me in my face. He’s not even questioning her. He’s already made up his mind that I am to blame. Of course I am to blame. There’s no way his precious wife could be.

  I am standing face-to-face with him in my bedroom with my pants and boxers down around my ankles. My dick is flaccid but let’s be honest, it usually is when I am around her. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with my dick. I know it works properly since I have spent most of my teenage years fucking women I wish I could forget about. You don’t know how many times I have jacked off hoping it wouldn’t get back up again for them. If it can’t get up what good am I to her or any of them for that matter? Maybe if it stopped working she and all those other fucking women would leave me the hell alone. Unfortunately my dick doesn’t work that way; it doesn’t just shut off. After awhile it goes hard again whether I want it to or not, and trust me, I definitely don’t want it to.

  Before attempting to answer his clearly rhetorical question, I reach down and pull my pants up so my dick is no longer hanging out. The conversation is already awkward as fuck as it is, no need to add to the awkwardness of my father coming home early from a business trip to find his slutty wife with her mouth wrapped tight around my cock. I shoot a glare at the woman who is the reason behind all this hoping she will for once do the right thing and admit the truth. I know it’s not going to happen but I can hope. I have learned two things about women, they are gold digging bitches and they can’t be fucking trusted. Every time I think I can trust a woman she proves me wrong. She raises her eyebrows in defiance at me and I know I am on my own here. I wouldn’t expect anything less from that cunt.

  Closing my eyes I take a deep breath in and then exhale slowly attempting to calm myself before I try to persuade my dad of something I already know he isn’t going to believe. My hands are shaking and I have a horrible feeling this is going to end badly for me. It’s just the way my life goes.

  “Dad, please listen to me. It’s not what it looks like. This is all her.” There is so much more I want to say; there’s so much more to this whole fucked up ordeal but my dad is under enough stress as it is. I don’t want to add to it. Sure, he has made mistakes. He’s definitely not perfect but he’s been through a lot these past few years and I don’t want to be the reason he goes through even more.

  Tears of anger and frustration are clogging my tear ducts; the lump in my throat is making it hard to breathe. The most frustrating thing in the world is trying to prove to someone you aren’t lying without having any proof, especially without being able to explain the entire story. Because of the secrets I have been forced to keep, my dad has caught me in too many lies to count that I couldn’t explain. I don’t blame him for not believing me now. Trust is hard to earn and easy to lose. Shit, if I were him, I wouldn’t believe me.

  Even if I was a complete saint the evidence stacked up against me looks bad, and judging by the look on my dad’s face he doesn’t believe a damn word I am saying. I want to tell him the truth. I don’t want to keep these secrets from him but once the truth is out there, I can never take it back, and I don’t know how she will react. What if she makes good on her threats? Then every nasty, fucked up thing I have endured from all these women will be for nothing. My dad has lost so much. He deserves more than to have his entire life destroyed.

  “He is lying, Adam. He came on to me. I was scared,” she says through the crocodile tears streaming down her face. Her cheeks are stained black from the overdone mascara her fake-ass wears. The truth is her cheeks aren’t stained from crying; it’s from her taking my cock so deep down her fucking throat it choked her to the point of tears. Just thinking about her mouth on my dick makes me want to throw up.

  When he turns to me, she shoots me a glare making it clear to keep my mouth shut. If he only knew the truth about his precious wife, he would run the other way and never look back. The problem is, she is a smart manipulative bitch and he has no idea the person she really is, not like I do.

  He looks at me with longing in his eyes then looks back at her with what looks like disappointment, and for a second I think maybe he is going to believe me over her, that he can see through all her bullshit and lies. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gloria tense up. She is thinking the same thing I am.

  “I didn’t want this,” I blurt out as a last chance praying he believes me. Praying he chooses me. Maybe he will kick her out and she will be out of our lives for good. I’m not sure if she will make good on her threats if he kicks her out but we can deal with it all together. I will do whatever it takes to help my dad, which is precisely how I got in this fucked up position to begin with.

  My dad looks back at Gloria one more time and her face goes stoic. She gives nothing away at first but then with a small lift of her one eyebrow she silently tells him something causing him to visually stiffen. They appear to be having a silent conversation of some sort. I wish I knew what the fuck they were saying.

  Instantly my dad’s demeanor changes from sad to pissed. He cocks his fist and punches the wall I am standing in front of, his fist going through it, dry wall crumbling everywhere. Gloria screeches like she is afraid. Give me a fucking break. That woman eats up and spits out grown men on a daily basis.

  He walks up to me until we are only inches apart, his face right in mine. I am tall at six-foot-two and while he isn’t quite as tall as me he is still a big guy. He looks slightly up into my eyes and with an eerily calm voice says, “I don’t know why you would do this but I am not going to have you destroying this family with your lies. I am going to give you one chance to change your story or you are out of here.”

  My shoulders sag in defeat and my head drops down shaking back and forth knowing this was coming but still shocked. I look back up into his
eyes and see a glimpse of something… it’s almost like he is begging me to change my story but I can’t do that. I might not be able to tell him the entire truth but I am not going to take responsibility for choosing to fuck that money-hungry, lying, blackmailing cunt. He thinks I am trying to destroy this family with my lies… If he only knew I am actually trying to save this family… No, fuck that! I am trying to save him. We don’t have a family; they are all dead.

  I swallow back the hurt and stand straight up. I lift my chin and with the little bit of respect I have left for myself, I say the only thing I can say. “I’m out of here.”

  I turn my back on him and grab a backpack to pack my shit. I know he is watching me but I can’t look at him; the only family I have left just chose that piece-of-shit woman over his own son. I hear the door close behind them and a few seconds later my phone dings indicating I have a text.

  Nasty Bitch: Don’t fuck with me.

  I don’t bother replying. I completely understand her text. If I try to tell my dad the entire truth she will destroy everything he has worked for.

  I open the drawer of my nightstand and grab the two pictures that are tucked away under my boxers. The first is of my older sister and me. It was taken the same day Colette went missing, a few days before she died. Running my fingers over her smiling face I remember how happy she was that day. It was my twelfth birthday and our parents took us skiing. Colette loved to ski and she was damn good. She would drag me up and down those slopes for hours.

  My throat chokes up remembering how amazing the day was until we got home. Colette was four years older than me. The entire ride home she was texting with someone. I saw her smiling and asked if it was a guy. She lied to me. When we got home she asked to go to her friends house. She lied to our parents. Three days later she was found in the woods with no clothes on, bruises covering her body. The autopsy said she was raped and then strangled to death. After investigating, the police said she was chatting with an older guy in an online chat room. She met up with him when she said she was going with her friends. The cops were able to locate him. He was tried for her murder, and found guilty, sentenced to life in prison. But that doesn’t change the fact that she lied and because of her lies she’s dead.

  The day my parents’ found out Colette died I lost a piece of them as well. They began arguing all the time blaming each other. Nothing tears a family apart quicker than the death of a child. My mom cried for months after, saying a parent should never have to bury her own child. My dad turned to work. He went from working the standard forty hours a week to barely ever coming home. Instead of being on my best behavior I lashed out: getting into fights, skipping school, and causing trouble, that was until I found out about the next lie. This one told by my mother.

  I bring the second picture to the front. It is of my mom and me a few weeks before she died from cancer. We are both smiling but my smile isn’t real. I was thirteen at the time; almost a year after Colette died, and we knew my mom only had a short time left. I was homeschooled those last couple months so I could spend my days with her. As much as she tried to keep me away, not wanting me to see her body quickly deteriorating, I refused to stay away. I didn’t want to miss a moment with my mom, with the little time she had left. She knew she was sick for a long time but didn’t tell me. Another lie… More lies.

  Pointing fingers at my sister and mom won’t change anything but it still hurts knowing they both lied to me. I trusted them completely and yet they didn’t trust me with the truth.

  I try so hard not to let those be the last memories I have of them, I try to remember the good times. The times my sister would let me tag along to the local ice cream shop or hang out with her and her friends at the mall or the movies. I try to remember all the times my mom would take me to breakfast just the two of us, or when her and I would play cards until late at night talking about nothing yet everything. My mom and my sister were good people, they were my entire world, and I get they aren’t anything like my stepmom, but a lie is a lie, right? Lies destroy and hurt people, and I am so sick of all the damn lies.

  The pictures used to be on top of my nightstand for me to see, to try to remember all the good times over the bad but Gloria made me put them away. I guess she didn’t want to see my mom and sister’s smiling faces while she was forcing herself on me.

  I shove the pictures into my bag and finish packing some clothes, money I have stashed away, my toothbrush, deodorant, and an extra pair of shoes. I take one last look at my bedroom and head out knowing I will never be back.

  I throw my bag into the backseat of my car and head to Cooper’s Gym. It’s a UFC training facility I work out at as much as I can. I came across the place a few years ago while walking home from school. In exchange for cleaning the gym a few nights a week after it closes, the gym owner, Marc Cooper, agreed to let me workout here for free. I hear he is an asshole but luckily he lives in Las Vegas and runs the gym there. The gym manager here, Diego, is really cool and let’s me train after hours.

  While my dream is to be a UFC fighter one day, I am also going to college full-time. After I graduated from high school last year I agreed to go to college because my mom left me a college fund when she passed away. She wanted to make sure no matter what happened I would have the money to go. I don’t want to let her down so I am majoring in business and finance. My dad is an investment banker so it made him happy to see me major in something similar. While I can’t see myself ever using my degree to do anything like what he does, I am determined to finish it.

  I am pounding away on the bag for god knows how long when Diego walks over to me.

  “What’s going on, kid? It looks like you are trying to kill the bag. You know it’s an inanimate object, right?”

  I can’t help but laugh. He is such a smartass.

  “Just a bad day. I am apparently homeless as of a couple hours ago.”

  I am not sure why I let that slip out. I usually keep to myself. Nobody knows the shit I have endured the last few years and it needs to stay that way, especially if I want to make sure my dad stays out of prison.

  My phone vibrates letting me know I have a text so I check it quickly.

  Nasty Bitch: You have an appointment at 8 pm. Don’t be late.

  She can’t be fucking serious right now. Does she seriously think I am still going to be her fuck boy? Diego goes to say something and I put up one finger signaling for him to give me a minute and text her back.

  Me: I am done.

  Her response is almost immediate.

  Nasty Bitch: What are you going to do for money? Did you forget our deal?

  Me: I would rather live on the streets broke. I am done.

  I am hoping she won’t turn my dad in if I walk away quietly. I am not her only source of income and if she turns him in, she will lose her main source of income as well. She might be a poor excuse for a human but she isn’t stupid.

  Nasty Bitch: You need to go to your appointment tonight. You know who it’s with. I will let her know it’s the last time.

  I do know who it’s with and it’s a woman I don’t want to piss off. She has the power to fuck my life up. The first time I met her at the hotel I didn’t know who she was. How would I? I was a seventeen-year-old senior in high school. After I started college I learned she is the dean of admissions. When I barely made it through high school and needed to get into college I was shocked to learn I actually got in. Little did I know she pulled strings and got me accepted. As much as I would like to blow her world apart by outing her ass for fucking a teenager, it would also fuck up mine for a few reasons. One, it would out my stepmom and ultimately fuck up my dad’s life. And two, it would destroy the last two years I have spent in a college I don’t belong in. I only have two more to go to graduate and honor my mom.

  Me: Fine! Last time, though.

  Nasty Bitch: That’s what I thought, and remember you say a word to anybody about our arrangement I will destroy you and your father. You will be visiting him in pri
son.

  While I don’t give a shit about her threats to me, I know I will never say a word to anybody. I wouldn’t do that to my dad. He has lost enough. His one mistake shouldn’t cost him everything.

  Putting my phone back in my pocket, I look up and see Diego still staring at me. I completely forgot he was there.

  “Homeless?”

  “Yeah, I had to move out of my dad’s place.”

  He thinks for a minute. “Look, I got an available room at my place…”

  Before he can continue I cut him off.

  “How much is the rent? I have some money but I need to find a job. My school is paid for but I don’t have a steady income anymore.”

  While I despise Gloria for what she has put me through the last four years, she did pay me. I think she justified her sick actions by paying me for my services. Like if I am receiving money, it isn’t statutory rape and blackmail. If I am accepting money from her, I must be willing, right? Fucking wrong!!

  “Like I was saying, I have an extra room at my place and it’s empty. It is actually an old mother-in-law’s suite. It’s separate from my house, back behind the pool. I will start paying you to clean the gym instead of you doing it for free, and that way you can afford food, and still keep training and go to school.”

  I would be a fool to say no to his offer. I definitely don’t have a better one, and if I want to keep training and graduate in two years, getting a full time minimum wage job is only going to get in the way.

  “Alright, I’m going to take you up on your offer. Thanks, man.”

  “No problem. Come by later and I will get you settled in. It’s completely furnished so you don’t need anything.”

  I shake his hand. “I appreciate it.”

  I look at the clock and see it’s almost seven. I’ve got to shower and get ready for my last appointment. Suddenly it feels like I can breathe again. Knowing I will never have to fuck another woman unwillingly makes me feel like a hundred pounds has been lifted off my chest.