Fighting Attraction

by Sarah Castille

  Chests heave, biceps flex. Testosterone laces the air between them. For a moment I think Jack will back down, but then his fist flies up, and he takes a swing at Torment.

  A fighter challenging Torment is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Punch bags slow. Treadmills stop. Weights are racked. Everyone rushes over for the big event. Cora and Homicide Hank help me out of the ring.

  Torment lands a ferocious right hand. Jack tags him back. Torment lands a good uppercut in a clinch and then drives forward, looking for a takedown, but Jack evades, only to take an elbow in the face. He lands a big right punch to the head and goes in for another takedown, just as Renegade arrives with Doctor Death.

  “Enough.” Renegade, Torment’s oldest friend and once his underground fight promoter, is the only man who can get him to back down. Torment and Jack step away from each other, chests heaving, bodies covered in sweat.

  “How are you feeling, Pen?” Doctor Death kneels beside me.

  “Fine. It was just a little bump.”

  Thump. Thump. Thump. I look up just as Jack yanks Doctor Death to his feet. “Don’t touch her. Where’s Doc?”

  Torment’s girlfriend, Makayla, known as Doc at the gym, is the head of first aid at Redemption and is usually around when she’s not working as a paramedic.

  “She’s at home,” Torment says, coming up behind him. “She’s three months pregnant, so I don’t approve of her leaving the house.”

  Someone in the crowd snorts a laugh. Others join in. Doc is about the only person who is not cowed by Torment’s controlling and dominating personality, and she is not the kind of woman who would let anyone tell her what to do.

  “How’s that working out for you?” Shilla says to him.

  “I have a few bruises, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Torment turns his scowl on Jack. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  “Fuck off.” He looks down at me, and a pained expression crosses his face. “I’ll take Pen to the hospital.”

  “Seriously? I don’t need to go to the hospital. My head barely touched the mat.”

  “You shouldn’t move her until I’ve checked her over,” Doctor Death unhelpfully says with a naughty smirk on his face. “She might have a concussion.”

  “A concussion?” Jack spins around. “Shilla! What the fuck?”

  The gym stills, chatter quiets, nobody moves. Except for fights, Jack has never once raised his voice in the gym. He has never lost his temper, never pushed anyone or fought anyone except in the ring, or acted like anything other than a Southern gentleman. He has never lost control, and his behavior tonight is shocking, even to me.

  “Jack.” Although I’m supposed to use his ring name in the gym, I suspect his real name is the only way to get through. “He’s winding you up. I’m okay. Really. And there’s no one to blame. I chose to step into the ring.”

  He squats down beside me and squeezes my hand. “You’re okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m taking you home.” He helps me up and turns me around, inspecting me for injuries as everyone drifts away now that the drama is done.

  “Actually, I have plans tonight with Cora, Blade Saw, and…um…Doctor Death.”

  “Cancel them.”

  I step back, putting some distance between us. “Why? So I can spend the evening with someone who thinks I’m broken?”

  “So you can spend the evening with someone who cares,” he says quietly. “Someone who can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, and lost it when he saw you lying on the mat.” He reaches for me and pulls me close. “Someone who might be lacking in tact.”

  “People are going to get ideas,” I murmur into his chest. “Especially if they hear you grovel like that.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” I look up and study his face.

  “We’re friends, Pen. Nothing wrong with that.”

  * * *

  RAMPAGE

  Penny doesn’t talk on the drive home. At first I figure she’s shaken up after the fight, but every so often I catch her scowling at me, so I figure I’ve done something wrong. Not that she’s about to tell me what it is.

  By the time we arrive at her house, I have twenty messages on my phone. Everyone wants to know what’s going on. What happened to me? Why did I lose it in the gym? Are Penny and I together? Do I have a will? Because Torment will never forgive me.

  Once inside, Penny feeds Clarice and goes to take a shower. I throw myself on the couch and try to figure out what kind of damage control I’m going to have to do to fix things at the gym. I let my mask slip tonight. Now I have to convince everybody that what they saw wasn’t real.

  “I’m knackered, so I’m going to bed,” Penny announces from the hallway. She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt with a “Mind the Gap” logo on the front. Given the girly clothes she wears every day, I would have expected her to wear something frilly and feminine to bed, but the way the T-shirt drapes over her softly rounded breasts and skirts the tops of her thighs is more erotic than the finest lingerie.

  “Come here.” I pat the seat beside me.

  She gives me a wary look. “Why?”

  “So we can talk.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees, my hands dangling down so I am not tempted to push myself up and take her in my arms. Given her cold, stiff demeanor, I’d probably get a slap for my efforts.

  “You made me a promise, darlin’. You said you’d come to me if you felt a need to hurt yourself. You picked that fight with Fuzzy knowing how it would end.”

  Guilt flickers across her face, followed by defensive anger. “So what if I did?”

  “I could have given you what you needed, but without the harm.”

  She bends down and picks up Clarice, holding the cat against her chest. “As a friend?”

  “Yes.”

  Her bottom lip quivers. “A friendship where you spank me and whip me and fuck me but we aren’t together in a way anyone understands?”

  “I can’t give you anything else. I can’t give you normal. I’m not going to change. I’ve been this way as long as I can remember, and there’s nothing I can point to as a trigger, nothing that needs to be cured.”

  “I don’t want normal.” She puts Clarice down and gives her a pat. “I want pain because that’s the only way I can get emotional release. I just never realized there might be other ways of getting that release that involve pleasure, too.”

  And I never realized it would be possible to share my kink with someone who not only wants what I have to give, but needs it, too, although I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to tolerate the kind of pain I give the hard-core masochists at Club Sin.

  “I like who you are,” she says softly. “The real Jack you revealed at the gym tonight; the Jack from the club; and the Jack who’s my friend. I like your kind of normal.”

  I like who she is too, but what happens when she gets the help she needs and realizes there is a life beyond pain—a life I can’t share?

  “What’s going to happen if I leave tonight?”

  She tugs at the hem of her shirt, twists her lips to the side. “I don’t know. I can still feel the need; it’s like an itch under my skin. Maybe you could stay…”

  “I’ll stick around for a bit.”

  I follow her into the bedroom and stretch out on the covers. Her room is decorated in bold primary colors, a decided contrast to the pastels she always wears. Is this the real her? For a man who wears a mask, I am supremely incapable of seeing through hers.

  “You can get under the covers,” she says, lying on the bed beside me. “I promise I won’t attack you. I’m a quiet sleeper. I don’t moan or talk or thrash around. I won’t even steal the covers.”

  I turn on my side, prop my head up on my elbow. “I’ve never slept in a bed with a woman, Pen. Not even Avery. She wanted to wait until we were married. When I
said I don’t do relationships, I meant I don’t do intimacy in any form. I have sex. I scene at the club. But that’s it. I don’t want to lead anyone on. I don’t want anyone to have expectations that I can’t fulfill.” She turns to face me, and I can’t help but smooth my hand over her arm, in and out of the dip of her waist, and over the curve of her hip. Her shirt rides up, exposing the lacy edge of her panties. My cock hardens, and I grit my teeth and roll to my back.

  “You can turn off the light.” She gestures to the light beside me. “I only need it when I’m alone.”

  My stomach clenches at the thought of all the other times she hasn’t been alone, other men who have shared her bed, held her while she slept, made love to her like normal men do.

  I turn out the light. Fold my arms behind my head. Stare at the darkened ceiling. Try not to think about the beautiful woman lying beside me.

  Penny rests her hand against my chest, snuggles against me. I’ve never had a woman snuggle with me before, but then I’ve never let anyone get as close as she is right now. At the club or in the few private encounters I have had, I’ve kept my submissives at arm’s length. We do our scene. I endure the aftercare. I send them home. There are no cuddles, no nights spent in each other’s arms, no lazy weekend mornings in bed. Even that crazy night with Sylvia, when I gave in to my longing for a connection beyond pain, I didn’t stay a minute longer than I had to.

  But this is Penny. And I feel something for her—the kind of emotional connection I never thought I would feel again.

  And it fucking scares me.

  16

  It’s the dirty things you say

  PENNY

  When I open my eyes, I am surrounded in warmth. Jack’s scent fills my head. His arms are around me, his clothed body curled around mine. His warm breath tickles the back of my neck. His chest rises and falls. The room is dark and quiet. Peaceful.

  I stroke his forearm, so strong and thick. He is one of the biggest fighters at Redemption, and one of the strongest. He is scared of nothing and no one. He makes me feel safe.

  Slowly, so as not to wake him, I turn in his arms. My eyes trace the planes and angles of his face and search out the scars barely visible in the darkness. I wonder what it must be like to be so strong, inside and out, to never be afraid.

  Gently, I rest my hand on his chest. I can feel the steady beat of his heart, the heat of his body. I run my hand over his pecs and down, lightly tracing over the ripples of his abs beneath his shirt, stopping just above his belt.

  My pussy clenches at the memory of this belt in his hand. The crack of leather on my ass. The fierce sting that sizzled into pleasure. Even now I am still tender. How many women has he whipped with this belt? How many begged him to make them come?

  “None.”

  I look up. His eyes are open, lids heavy with sleep. “Only use I’ve ever had for this belt is holding up my pants.”

  “How did you know what I was thinking?” I trace my finger along the edge of his belt, my palm brushing over the bulge in his jeans.

  “Your fingers talk.” He reaches for my hand, brings it to his lips, kisses my fingers one by one. “Curious fingers. Naughty fingers.”

  I scoot closer to him, so close our noses almost touch. “How naughty?”

  He growls, a low rumble deep in his chest. “Very naughty. Fingers going where fingers aren’t allowed to go.”

  Cocooned in the darkness, surrounded in his heat, safe in his arms, I feel brave tonight. I ease my free hand down between us and cup the heavy length of his erection through his jeans. He groans, nuzzles my neck, his five-o’clock shadow an erotic burn on my sensitive skin. His fingers dig into my hip so hard I catch my breath. “Do you want to play, naughty girl?”

  Moisture seeps between my thighs, dampening my knickers. “Yes,” I breathe. “I want to play.”

  In one swift move, he pushes himself up and tears the blanket off my body. I shiver as cool air brushes over my heated skin.

  “Hmm.” His sensual gaze rakes over me, and he licks his lips like I’m a tasty treat. “Do you have any toys?”

  My cheeks heat, and I suck in my lips, inexplicably embarrassed at having to reveal something so personal when I’m about to get naked and have rough sex with the man of my dreams. “Nightstand beside the bed.”

  Jack chuckles and pulls open the drawer. “Quite the collection,” he says, rummaging through my assortment of sex toys. “I don’t know which one to use first.”

  “Don’t talk. Just…take something.”

  He assumes an innocent look. “Why can’t I talk? Don’t you think we should discuss your sex toy addiction? Although there are a few classic items missing and nothing for anal play.”

  “Jack!”

  “I love it when you blush. It makes me want to introduce you to all sorts of naughty things.” He pulls out my rabbit and holds it up in the beam of moonlight filtering through the curtains. “We can get up to all sorts of trouble with this.”

  My mouth goes dry when he kneels on the bed in front of me and unbuckles his belt. He yanks it from the loops and doubles it in his palm.

  “Not again,” I whisper.

  His face softens, and he leans over, reaching for my hands. “Not again. You wouldn’t be able to take it. I have something else in mind.” He lifts my hands over my head and binds them together with his belt, twisting it around the wrought iron headboard to hold me fast.

  “What’s your safe word?” he asks as he tests my bonds, tightening the belt so I am stretched to the point of discomfort but not pain.

  “Redemption.”

  “Good girl.” He reaches under my shirt and slides my knickers over my hips. After tossing them on the floor, he grabs the rabbit and flicks the switch. “It lights up,” he says in delight when it glows purple. “Is that in case it gets lost? Or maybe to help me find my way?”

  “You’re killing me,” I groan. “I ordered it online because it was on sale. I didn’t know it glowed until I turned it on the first time. It gave me quite a fright.”

  He’s laughing so hard he has to brace himself on the bed. I like seeing him laugh. It reminds me that he is still Rampage, my friend from the gym, the man who can cheer anyone up.

  “I can imagine,” he says, finally. And then his face smooths, and he turns off the vibrator and holds it to my lips. “I didn’t see any lube. Lick.”

  I wrinkle my nose at the scent of plastic and the disinfectant soap I use for washing up. “Um…actually, I don’t think I need to do that. I’m pretty wet.”

  “I didn’t ask.” His voice carries a low, warning note that makes my core tighten.

  Tentatively, I touch my tongue to the cool, smooth plastic, swallow down the taste of soap.

  With a grunt of disapproval, Jack presses the head of the vibrator between my lips, forcing me to take more into my mouth. “Let’s see a bit more enthusiasm.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, I swirl my tongue over the softly rounded head, lick up and down the plastic shaft. Jack watches me intently, his gaze never leaving my mouth as I work to lubricate the entire surface.

  “Good girl.” He pulls the vibrator away. “Now spread your legs for me.”

  I part my legs, and he frowns. “Wider.”

  “They don’t go wider.”

  “I need you open and available to me, darlin’. Do I need to tie your ankles to the corners of the bed?”

  A moan escapes my lips. Everything he says makes my pussy throb. I never imagined I could get aroused just from words and the tone of a voice.

  Jack leans over and presses his lips to my ear. “Are you moaning because you like the idea of being totally restrained or being open to me? Vulnerable. At my mercy?”

  “It’s the things you say,” I whisper. “They make me so hot I ache inside. Especially when you say darlin’ with that soft Tennessee twang. It makes me we
t.”

  His eyes shoot wide, and a flicker of darkness dances within them. “You shouldn’t have told me that. I’ll never use your real name again.”

  “It’s not just that word. It’s…well, most of them. Your accent makes everything sound sexy. Before I ever saw you at the club, I used to imagine you talking dirty to me with that Southern drawl.”

  “Now, that’s interesting, ’cause I used to imagine you talking dirty to me in that prim and proper British accent.” His warm hands glide over my calves, tickle the back of my knees, caress the inside of my thighs. My legs fall open wider, and desire blooms hot inside me.

  “What did I say when you imagined me?” I ask.

  He gives a satisfied smile and glides the vibrator through my labia. “You begged me to fuck your wet cunt.” With one broad hand across my hips, holding me still, he slides the vibrator inside me, rocking it gently as it pulses against my sensitive tissue. I curl my fingers around the belt, tensing as he presses the vibrator in further, my mouth watering in anticipation of the moment those rabbit ears dance over my clit.

  “Aah!” My cry makes him chuckle, and he turns it down a notch.

  “Beg. Use your dirty words.”

  I drop my head to the pillow as the ache grows inside me. “Please, Jack. Fuck my…cunt.”

  “That’s a start.” He turns up the speed on the vibe and presses the external attachment against my clit. I jerk against the restraints, every muscle taut, and my body on the edge of release.

  He turns it down again, and I let out a guttural groan.

  “I also imagined you swearing at me,” he says. “Let it out. Let me know how you feel when I take you to the edge and don’t let you come. Give me your pain, your frustration. Nothing as sexy as a beautiful girl who talks like the Queen of England giving me her dirty mouth.” He flicks the switch, and the vibrator hums to life again, buzzing against my clit, the unrelenting waves making my muscles clench. My clit engorges, throbs, and I draw in a deep breath as my body coils tight, ready to spring.

  But before I can go over, he moves the vibe, rocking the rabbit ears from side to side over my clit, just enough to keep me on edge but not enough to come. The ache for release slides into pain, and I dig my heels into the bed and rock my hips up for more.