Fighting Attraction

by Sarah Castille

  “You’re rocking. I’m normal.” Well, sort of normal. I’m wearing a dove-gray, curve-hugging dress with a naughty heart-shaped cutout in the front that exposes the crescents of my breasts. Cora convinced me to ditch the girly frills, pastels, and flowers tonight, but she couldn’t get me to wear black. Gray is as far outside my color spectrum as I get.

  One of three sports bars in Chinatown and the go-to place for MMA fighters in town, Score is packed tonight with pumped, cut, testosterone-filled fighters all ready to shout at the game on the televisions and battle it out in drunken arm-wrestling matches that often devolve into alley fights. From rank amateurs to seasoned pros, everyone comes to Score, not just for its fabulous sports-themed drinks and vast selection of international beer, but for the gossip, the ring girls, and the chance to see and be seen.

  A DJ spins music from a small stage, and fight posters are plastered all over the walls. I head over to the Redemption corner where Doctor Death, Torment, Makayla, and Blade Saw have snagged a couple of highboy tables and an entire tray of vodka shots that are disappearing at lightning speed.

  Blade Saw nods at Cora but doesn’t go over to greet her. She grabs a drink from the tray, and we join Doctor Death and Makayla.

  If Torment hadn’t told us Makayla was three months pregnant, I never would have guessed. Even dressed up in a tight black dress and heels, she looks exactly the same: small and curvy with fantastic, thick auburn hair and big hazel eyes.

  “Cora, what’s going on with you and Blade Saw?” she whispers.

  “Nothing.” Cora downs her shot and leans across Doctor Death to get another, her breasts brushing over his arm, which appears to be on purpose. I catch Blade Saw watching them from another table, his face cold and hard.

  “You sure you want to play this game?” I say softly. “Blade Saw’s a pretty chill guy. It takes a lot to rile him, but once he’s there, he’s really there. I’ve seen him punch holes in walls and break the windshield of a car.”

  “I’m tired of the whole ‘let’s just see where it takes us’ thing,” she says. “Maybe he just needs a little kick, and if that doesn’t work, I’m up for a no-strings night of fun with someone who gets all my geek jokes but doesn’t play the geek game.”

  Doctor Death whispers something to Cora, and she laughs. I have to admit he seems to be a better match for her than Blade Saw. They are both easygoing, slightly quirky, and academically inclined. But Blade Saw is a good guy, fiercely loyal, totally honest and up-front. Mashed potatoes to Doctor Death’s couscous.

  What about Jack and me? Do we go together? Aside from our kinks and the fact we both work out at Redemption, we don’t have much in common. He’s from a high-society family in Tennessee, and I’m from a working-class family in Leeds. He’s on his way to becoming a big MMA star, and I’m a legal assistant. He doesn’t do relationships, and I still secretly dream of finding someone to love me who makes me feel safe. He’s breathtakingly gorgeous, and I’m…well, me. But he did stay over last night, and I still feel warm fuzzies when I think about him coming to Ambleside.

  Torment joins our table, and I frown at the green froth in his glass. “What is that?”

  “Spinach shake.” He holds it up like he’s won a prize. “Makayla isn’t drinking while she’s pregnant, so I asked the bartender to whip up something healthy for her.”

  “I asked for something yummy,” she says, her voice sharp with warning.

  “You need vitamins.” Torment offers the glass and Makayla shakes her head.

  “That doesn’t even look close to being edible. I need one of their creamy chocolate ice cream cocktails but without the booze, and a big plate of fries or I might collapse from starvation.”

  Torment’s lips press into a thin line. “If you’d just stayed at home like I told you—”

  Makayla cuts him off with a glare. “I’m pregnant. I don’t have a fatal disease. Pregnant women lead normal lives. They go to work, they go out with their friends, they exercise, occasionally eat junk food, go to the bar to have a good time, drink creamy drinks, and eat fried food. So get over your overprotective self and go get me something unhealthy to eat.”

  We all hold our breaths, waiting for the inevitable explosion. No one tells Torment what to do.

  “You want ketchup with that?” he asks.

  Makayla’s lips quiver with a smile. “Lots of ketchup.” She leans over to kiss Torment on the cheek, but he cups her neck, turning her toward him as he pulls her in for a real kiss, hard and hungry, full of love and passion.

  Cora and I sigh.

  “Ah. True love.” Doctor Death moves to the side as Torment brushes past. “I gave up on that concept a long time ago. Too many women want me, and it would be inconsiderate not to share myself around. It’s all about public service and sacrificing for womankind.” He holds out a hand to Cora and then one to me. “Ladies. Care for a drink and a dance? Afterward, maybe we can go back to my place and I’ll bathe you in chocolate and show you what a good licker I am.”

  Laughter bubbles up in my chest, but since Jack isn’t here yet, we’re out of vodka shots, and the DJ is pretty good, I follow him and Cora to the bar.

  “What are you having?” He waves to the bartender, and she drops what she’s doing and makes her way toward us. Doctor Death has that effect on women.

  “Long Island iced teas,” Cora offers. “To start.”

  I shoot her a worried glance. Cora started two shots ago, and she can get drunk on half a glass of wine. She doesn’t hold her liquor well.

  Fifteen minutes and another round of drinks later, we are up on the raised dance floor, dancing to the Kongos’ “Come with Me Now.” I keep my distance from Doctor Death’s octopus hands because I know Jack is on his way, but Cora succumbs to his charms. They gyrate to the music as he whispers in her ear. I dance beside them, and yet all I can think about is Jack—his hands on my body, his lips in my ear, his shadowy figure at the bar beside Blade Saw, watching me.

  Wait. Jack?

  Our eyes meet, and his gaze heats every inch of my skin, blazing a trail straight down to my core. He lifts his beer, takes a slow sip. Blade Saw says something to him, but Jack’s eyes never leave mine. A thrill of excitement shoots down my spine, and I let myself go, dancing just for him.

  “Blade Saw and Jack are watching,” I warn Cora.

  “I know.” She reaches behind her and puts her arms around Doctor Death’s neck. He gives a delighted rumble, and they sway to the music. His hands run up and down her curves. His lips press into her hair. Blade Saw grows more agitated over by the bar, shifting his weight, his hand clenching around his glass.

  “Cora…” But it’s too late. Blade Saw breaks away from the bar and steamrolls through the crowd, pushing people aside as he hurtles toward the dance floor. In one smooth move, he leaps up on the riser, grabs Doctor Death, and throws him to the floor. Doctor Death hits a table on his way down. Drinks spill. Angry customers jump up. One goes after Doctor Death, and the other goes after Blade Saw. Redemption fighters swarm in to protect them. I grab Cora’s hand and pull her away.

  “Down here.” I pull her down the back hallway, past the restrooms, and out into the alley. As the door swings closed behind us, I hear shouts and yells, the crack of tables, and the sound of breaking glass. Looks like the Redemption team will have to find a new watering hole. Again.

  “What the hell were you doing?” I dig around in my purse for my phone, breathing through my mouth when the first scent of stale piss hits me. “I warned you about him. And it was clear from the moment we walked in that he’s into you in a big way.”

  “He just nodded.” She wipes away a tear. “He didn’t even say hi. I’m not desperate. I’m smart and fairly attractive, although maybe lacking in a few social skills. I’m worth more than a guy who says he just wants to see how things go, who kisses me one day after a run, fools around with me for a bit,
and then tells me the next day we should just be friends and hang out.”

  “I think he cares about you so much that it scares him.” I send a quick text to Jack to let him know we’re okay and then one to Makayla to make sure she got out. “I told you he’s had a rough time with women. Everyone he cares about leaves him. After that much heartbreak, it’s not easy for him to dive in again.”

  Maybe it’s the same for Jack, but he was burned in a worse way—outed and shamed for who he was by someone he cared deeply about. Despite what he might think, what we have when we’re together isn’t just friendship, and it’s not just play like he does at the club. At least not for me.

  “Pen!” Jack jogs down the alley toward us. He has a cut across his cheek, and his left eye is swollen. Without slowing his stride, he wraps his arms around me and his momentum carries us into the side of the building with a thud.

  “I didn’t know where the fuck you were.” He holds me tight, his chest heaving. “Cora, Torment is waiting out front with Makayla. They can give you a ride home.”

  “What about the fight?” I say into his chest. He smells of whiskey and the faintest trace of cologne.

  “Torment stopped it and paid off the bar owner so he didn’t call the police, but we had to agree to leave.”

  “Is Blade Saw okay?” Cora straightens her dress. “Maybe I should go find him instead.”

  Jack frowns. “Probably better if you go with Torment and Makayla. Blade Saw needs a bit of time to cool off, and Makayla needs someone to run interference. Torment has decided she’s never going to leave the house again.”

  After Cora is safely out of the alley, Jack’s eyes harden. “What the fuck were you doing?”

  Puzzled, I shrug. “Dancing.”

  “Yeah, I saw how you were dancing,” he growls.

  It takes me a minute to get my head around what he’s saying, and when I do, my anger flares. “Seriously? I don’t play those kinds of games. I wasn’t trying to make you jealous, and I wasn’t trying to pick up other guys, although I should have since you keep telling everyone we’re just friends. I like you, Jack. I like spending time with you. I know you had a rough time, but I had a rough time, too, and it’s doing my head in trying to understand what we have together, because frankly, I don’t have sex with my friends. I trust you in a way I haven’t trusted anyone else before. I thought you trusted me, too. I want to be more than just your friend, and more than just a play partner, but if—”

  He pushes me against the cold brick wall and cuts me off with a kiss that I feel deep in my soul.

  “I thought I’d lose my fucking mind when the fight broke out,” he murmurs against my lips. “I beat on half a dozen guys looking for you. You are more than just a friend to me. It just took me a long time to see it.”

  Warm shivers run down my spine. I press my hand against his chest, feel his heart beat steady beneath my palm. His T-shirt is soft over hard muscle, cool over his heated body. His jeans ride low on his hips. He makes me feel bold, beautiful, and just a little bit wild. “I like that you came looking for me.”

  “I went a bit crazy.” He pulls me close, his arm around my waist. “Got wound up when I saw you dancing with Doctor Death, and then when I couldn’t find you…”

  “How wound up?” I slide my hand down to the belt he used to whip me in the office and then lower to the bulge in his jeans.

  “Fuck.” He groans. “Don’t—”

  I cup his groin and grind my palm over his erection, rock hard beneath his jeans. I’ve never been sexually aggressive, always letting my partner take the lead, but knowing Jack wants me gives me a sense of power I’ve never felt before—a power that sets my wild side free.

  “Is this for me?” I whisper. “Did you like watching me dance?”

  “Every fucking dude in the entire bar liked watching you dance,” he growls. “They were all watching you, wanting you, wanting what’s mine.” His hand slides down my thigh, and he teases the edge of my dress, slowly lifting.

  “And yet here I am. Outside. With you.” I lean up, press a kiss to his firm, hard lips.

  “Damn right you’re with me.” He returns my kiss, soft at first, then hungrier, his tongue delving into my mouth, leaving no inch untouched. He feathers kisses along my jaw, nibbles my ear, sucks at the pulse hammering wildly at the base of my neck.

  I part my legs, rock against his thigh. “I want you. Here. Now.”

  “So fucking sexy, my girl wanting me so bad.” He pushes up my dress and slides one finger along the lacy edge of my knickers. “You sure about this? Someone might come down the alley looking for us.”

  “I know.” I wrap my arms around his neck, arch my back so my taut nipples rub against his chest.

  Jack slides my knickers off, helping me balance as I step out of them. He shoves them in the purse I unwittingly dropped on the ground when he first found me and slicks a thick finger along my slit. “You’re so wet, so hot.”

  “For you,” I murmur. “I thought about you fucking me when I danced. I thought about the sexy bruises on my wrists, your cock driving into my pussy, your head between my legs.”

  “Christ. My girl talking dirty with her fancy accent. Drives me fucking wild.” Jack lets out a low groan and pushes a finger inside me. “You’d better have been thinking about me on that dance floor. You’re fucking mine.”

  “Yours.” The word is sweet on my lips.

  He twists a hand through my hair, tugs my hair back. “No one touches you. No one except me.” His cock, rock hard beneath his jeans, presses into the side of my hip. His finger pumps in and out, and I draw in a deep breath, inhaling the fetid scent of the alley. Dirty and dangerous. The kind of place a girl who wears kitten heels, floaty florals, and pearls shouldn’t go with the kind of man she shouldn’t be with—a man who can make her deepest, darkest fantasies come true.

  Unable to wait another minute, I undo Jack’s belt and rip open his fly. He jerks back and slides his finger away as I shove his boxers down and free his cock from its restraint.

  “Be gentle with me, Pen.”

  “Says the sadist.” I wrap my hand around his erection, squeeze him tight, rub my thumb over the bead of moisture at the tip. His cock throbs in my hand, huge and heavy, a promise of what is to come.

  His eyes darken with sensual pleasure. “Fuck, that feels good.”

  I hold his gaze as I stroke him. Seeing the desire in his eyes only makes the thought of sexing it up in the alley all the more appealing. “I like that you’re hard for me.”

  “I’m always fucking hard for you.” He rocks his hips, thrusting into my hand. “I wake up hard for you. I’m hard for you in the shower. And when I walked into the bar—” His breath hitches, and he lifts my leg, spreading me in front of him. Bracing myself against the wall, I hook my knee around his hip and rub the head of his cock through my soaking slit. He is hot, his soft skin a contrast to the hardness underneath.

  His hands tighten on my hips, digging into my flesh so hard my eyes water. “You keep that up,” he growls, “and this will be over before it begins.”

  “Please tell me you have protection.” I tilt my hips and rock against the length of his cock.

  Jack reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a condom. I stroke him hard, base to tip as he tears the package open, ripping a groan from his throat.

  “Touch yourself while I put it on.” His voice drops to a low, husky rasp. “Fingers on either side of your clit, but not on top.”

  After releasing him, I slide two fingers along either side of my swollen clit, spreading my wetness around, aching for the touch that will set me free. “You’re mean.”

  “Like you can’t believe.” He rolls the condom on and lifts my other leg, securing me against the wall. I wrap my legs around his hips, but before I can put my arms around his shoulders, he grabs my wrists and slams my hands up over my he
ad. The rough brick scrapes my skin, but I can endure the pain.

  “Fuck me, Jack. Fuck me like you wanted to fuck me when I was dancing. Hurt me if you need to.”

  “Christ. Nothing as sexy as those words coming from your sweet lips.” He pushes in with one long, deep thrust that takes my breath away. A feral light burns in his eyes, and my world narrows to the filthy, dirty alley, the dark, dangerous man who sets me on fire, and the burning, almost-desperate need to come.

  With each wild pump of his hips, he slams me against the brick wall. I give myself over to the power of his thrusts, the delicious slide of his huge, hard cock inside me, the ferocity with which he seeks to claim me, the intensity of his gaze, and his strong arms holding me safe. This is Jack—the fighter, the man, the sadist—all in one.

  “Scream for me, darlin’.”

  My climax comes in a rush of white-hot heat. I scream into his shoulder to muffle the sound. I scream from the pleasure and the pain. But mostly, I scream because he needs to hear me scream.

  “Jesus Christ. Fuck. I’m gonna come.” He yanks me down, pushing in deep, and he climaxes with a low guttural groan.

  Finally, he stills, releases my hands. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him, and draws in a shuddering breath. “What the fuck do you do to me?” he murmurs. His cock pulses inside me, and I squeeze my inner muscles, delighted when he moans. I’ve never had sex outside before, never thought I would enjoy getting down and dirty in an alley, never been so aroused I already want more.

  “Hopefully the same thing you do to me.” I press a soft kiss to his cheek, and he pulls out, setting me on my feet as he rolls off the condom.