by Lane Hart
I’m pounding my gloves into the hanging bag as hard as I can when some prissy looking blond asshole wanders inside the gym. It’s obvious he doesn’t belong in this neighborhood, so I have no clue what the fucker wants.
Vaughan goes over to talk to him and shakes his hand, about as giddy as the big man ever gets. Trying to ignore whatever the hell that’s about, I keep throwing punches until Vaughan shouts my name.
Blondie eyes me with fear as I size him up. Before I walk over, Vaughan asks, “Ya up for a round with our fresh meat?”
I grunt in response since I don’t know shit about this kid. And while I’m confident I can take him based on the nervousness in his eyes, I can’t afford to be wrong. This may only be a training exercise, but losing an actual fight now would hurt Gabby even more than before since tonight is her first night waitressing. She doesn’t know it, but I’ll be there the whole time watching her, making sure fuckers keep their hands off of her. Just the idea of one of them touching her has me seeing red. Nothing but red. No one will hurt her or I’ll fucking kill them.
I know my head’s not in the ring with me when I climb over the ropes, so I try to shake off those maddening thoughts to focus on the here and now. Right here, right now, I’ll beat the fuck out of this outsider and send him back to wherever the fuck he came from so I won’t have to face him in an actual fight.
The guy takes his sweet ass time removing his shirt and joining me, making me think he’s considering backing out. He’s smaller than me through his chest and arms, and I have a height advantage, so this should be easy.
Some of the other guys start to wander over to see what’s going on.
“One three-minute round just to show me what you’re made of, newbie. Try not to get your brains knocked out of your skull. I don’t want to have to deal with all the rich pricks at Havoc comin’ down here and causin’ problems,” Vaughan informs us.
So the kid is from a legitimate gym that trains fucking IFC champions.
Did Mario bring him in to fuck with me? Is he trying to find someone to beat me? I wouldn’t doubt it for a goddamn second. The man is ruthless and always gets what he wants. Mario made it clear months ago that he wants Gabby.
Too fucking bad he’s not getting her.
“On my signal,” Vaughan says as the asshole and I wait, bouncing on the balls of our feet in opposite corners, the stench of fear nearly coming off of him in waves. That’s right, motherfucker, you’re about to take a nap.
“Ready, set, fight!” Vaughan yells.
Knowing he won’t be expecting it, I spin around and nail him with a kick to his head, putting him on his ass.
The guys watching all snicker, myself included as the rich prick staggers to his feet again.
“Did I forget to tell ya the rules?” Vaughan calls out from the other side of the rope while I continue to try and find an opening to nail him with a right or a left to the jaw. I dance away before he can get his own shot in. “There are no rules in our big boy fights. Groin shots are generally frowned upon, though, but the crowd loves to see a well-timed headbutt or eye poke.”
For a moment, the kid’s jaw drops in disbelief at the lack of all the pussy rules he’s probably used to, but then he steels his spine and comes at me, swinging his fists at my face while I dodge them.
I fucking know I’m concentrating too hard on his hands when he sweeps my legs out from under me, but by then it’s too late to do anything about it.
When I land on my ass, the dick follows me down. His right fist lights up the left side of my face. That wakes me the hell up.
I push the fucker off of me so hard he flies backward.
By the time he gets to his feet again, I’m up and coming for him, swinging for the fences. There’s no way this prick is gonna beat me. No one can beat me! I will die before I see Gabby taking her clothes off for a room full of men.
Those thoughts temporarily distract me. So, when the asshole throws a left jab, my hands are not up protecting myself. And fuck does it hurt. So much that I can’t stop his punch to my chin. I stagger backward, trying to get my wits about me and push aside the shit with Gabby. The fact that she’s still pissed at me and rightfully so about her wrong assumption with Cass. How much I wish I could say to hell with everything and just be with her…
The fucker lands blow after blow as my arms weaken and I can no longer protect myself. My knees are about to give out as I lean my back against the ropes to keep from going down. Just when I start seeing stars, the hits suddenly stop.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, rich boy,” Vaughan’s says. “Time’s up and I’ve seen enough. Cain, get to the locker room and clean up! You should be ashamed of yourself for lettin’ this lightweight Havoc kid get the best of you.”
Fucking hell. How did this jerk get the best of me?
“I’m a welterweight!” the fucker shouts, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Same difference,” Vaughan mutters.
At least I made him bleed. I just don’t know what the hell happened. My head and heart were somewhere else entirely today.
That was too fucking close. He’s smaller than me, so if he can almost take me down, someone else will too. I sure as fuck can’t let that happen!
Gathering up my strength, I yell, “Give me another round! I’ll murder the bastard!” while Ivan and Knox start dragging me from the ring. Dammit, I can’t let anyone see me this weak.
“Of course ya would!” Vaughan replies. “But when I told Mario about the kid, he said if he’s any good, he wants him to earn him some cash, so I need him alive.”
No, he can’t fight with us. His training is obviously a helluva lot better than ours is if my weight and height advantage doesn’t mean jack shit. I’ve got to get better. I will get better and the next time we fight…
“He’s dead!” I shout before I jerk away from Ivan and Knox’s hold to escape into the locker room.
Chapter Eighteen
Gabby
My first night at Escapades isn’t nearly as bad as I expected. It’s Friday, so the place is packed with horny men. The occasional rude comments about my body are worth the tips I’ve made so far — usually three bucks or more for each beer served. I’ve gotten a couple of requests for private lap dances, but there’s no way in hell that’s gonna happen. No man has ever seen me without clothes on, and the first one is not gonna be some disgusting, random jackass who waves a hundred-dollar bill at me.
For now, until I graduate from high school, I’ll only be waitressing on Friday and Saturday nights. The hours are long and go past two a.m., but at least I’ll have Sundays to sleep in until the middle of December when school is over.
Everything is going great as I make my rounds at the club until a little past midnight. The later the night gets, the drunker the men are. I knew it was bound to happen. And while it felt nasty, I wasn’t all that surprised when a bastard reached under the skirt of my short, black dress. At least not until someone came up and snapped his arm so loudly the whole club went silent except for the music.
Turning around, I come face to face with Cain glaring down at the drunk fool, threatening to break off the arm he’s holding.
How long has he been here? I can’t believe I didn’t see him in the crowd sooner.
“I hope it was worth losing this hand!” Cain yells at the now frightened, middle-aged man with a receding hairline. Cain’s clenching his arm so tightly that his knuckles are white while his other fist is raised as if to punch him in the face.
“It’s not a big deal, Cain. Just let him go!” I tell him.
Going over, I put my hand on Cain’s chest to try and create some space between him and the guy about to get his face pounded into the table.
Thankfully, one of the big bouncers dressed in all black comes over to intervene. When he grabs the front of Cain’s shirt, I worry he may be making things worse. The giant says something to Cain that makes him finally release the drunk. When the bouncer starts pulling
Cain toward the back exit, I follow them outside.
“What is wrong with you!” I yell at Cain as the back door shuts and we’re alone in the dark night underneath a few lamp posts.
“They’re not supposed to fucking touch you!” he shouts back at me, face red with anger, his fists clenched by his sides.
Right, no one is supposed to touch me, not even him. I laid awake all night waiting for Cain to at least hold me, but he refused to do even that. He will break, I know it. I just have to figure out how to do that.
One thing that usually works…
“Maybe I want someone to touch me! Did that thought ever occur to you? I asked you to and you refused, so it’s none of your business when and where a guy puts his hands on me!” I exclaim.
“Like hell it isn’t!” Cain declares.
“I don’t have time for your bullshit right now,” I tell him, still angry at him for getting in bed with a stripper he barely knows but refusing to fuck me when I’m practically begging for it. “It’s my first night and I have to get back to work. Don’t you have a stripper inside to fuck, or is it not a fight night yet?” I ask as I start to walk away. But, like usual, Cain grabs my wrist to stop me.
Faster than lightning, he spins me around, and then I’m looking at the red brick wall, my right arm pinned to the small of my back, still in his grasp and his big body pressing into me from behind. Cain’s other palm smacks against the building in front of my face, next to my own, which is preventing any scrapes and abrasions to my cheek.
“I told you I wouldn’t bring anyone home and that I can’t fuck before a fight, so why do you think I would turn you down but go inside and bang a stripper?” he asks, his deep raspy words and warm breath right against my ear, causing a full body shiver.
“I don’t know!” I reply. “I-I thought you lied because you just don’t want me. For all I know you’ve fucked every slut in this state over the past six months while you were avoiding me.”
“You were the one who wouldn’t talk to me,” he argues. “Every time I stopped by the house you refused to see me. I wasn’t avoiding you.”
“You only came by three times!”
“Because I got tired of you turning me down!” Cain yells back.
“Yeah, well, you weren’t supposed to give up so easily,” I mutter before considering my words. God, they sound so freaking childish.
“What the hell does that mean?” Cain asks, his words calmer, no longer shouting.
“Forget it,” I mutter. “I have to get back to work. This is the shittiest birthday ever.”
“Does it look like I’m letting you leave yet, birthday girl?” he growls, pressing the front of my body more firmly against the unrelenting bricks.
“Let me go,” I tell him, but I don’t buy that, and neither does he.
“I thought you wanted someone to touch you. That you wanted me inside you. Isn’t that what you said last night?” he asks, making my breath stagger and my lower belly clench with liquid heat.
“Yes, but…”
Cain’s hand disappears from the wall, and then I feel it on the outside of my left thigh, moving up until it’s underneath the hem of my short dress and squeezing my ass cheek, making me gasp in surprise and with need. For the three years I’ve known Cain, he’s never touched me in any sexual way.
“Is this where his hand was?” he asks, and I know he’s asking about the customer who just copped a feel.
“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.
When I feel a breeze, I know he’s raised the back of my dress. He lifts my wrist that’s still in his grip and tucks the hem underneath. Before I can even guess what he’s about to do, his palm slaps the shit out of my left ass cheek, leaving it stinging.
“I was supposed to be the first man to touch this ass,” Cain grumbles as my head spins in confusion. What is he talking about, and what’s gotten into him all of a sudden? And why are my panties getting damp from his painful smack to my ass?
“You didn’t even try and grab his hand to stop him,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur since it sounds like he’s waiting for an apology.
Switching my pinned wrist to his left hand, his right cups my other ass cheek before hauling back and swatting it so hard my entire body jerks and a small shriek escapes from my panting lips.
“My handprint is on both cheeks now, marking them as mine. Do you understand?” Cain asks while rubbing the sore spot. “No one else touches your ass. If they try to, you tell them it’s my ass and I’ll break their fucking hands off.”
“It’s not yours,” I tell him in defiance, just because I want to provoke him so he’ll hopefully keep touching me. “You don’t own me, Cain.”
His palm goes still on my ass while I hold my breath waiting for his reaction.
“From where I’m standing, it looks like I’m fucking owning you,” he replies. His fingers slip underneath the back string of my thong and gives it a tug upward. I release an embarrassing whimper when the lacy material tightens over the part of my pussy that feels so wet, swollen, and needy. “Your fine ass is on display for me, and I’ve got you pinned to the wall and moaning. I could do any fucking thing I wanted to you,” he declares. “I. Own. You,” Cain whispers softly while kissing the shell of my left ear. “Let me prove it to you, angel.”
I nod silently, incapable of actual words at the moment.
Cain’s thick fingertips slowly follow the string of my panties lower until he finds my wetness, groaning in my ear. His finger glides gently back and forth over my lower lips before he speaks.
“Say it. Beg me.”
“Please,” I gasp, leaning my forehead and chest on the wall as my knees go weak.
“Please what?” he asks when he finds my clit and starts rubbing it in small circles.
“Please…please prove it,” I say between pants.
When Cain steps closer, I feel his hard, thick cock protruding from the front of his jeans against my pinned hand so I give him a squeeze. That makes him groan and thrust forward, slamming my pelvis into the wall.
His fingers suddenly begin withdrawing from my panties, and I nearly sob in disappointment.
“Both hands flat on the wall,” Cain growls when he releases my wrist.
I do as he orders, planting my palms in front of me. I would do anything if it means he’ll keep going. And thank God, he does. His right hand splays over my stomach before it slips into the front of my thong, and the left starts prodding me again from behind.
“Your pussy is so wet, it’s begging for something to fill it,” he groans. When his blunt finger plunges inside me, the fullness is too much, almost painful. But after he pulls it out, leaving me empty, I need more.
“Please, Cain,” I beg. Removing my hand from the wall, I cover his that’s in the front of my panties, trying to make him penetrate me again.
“Hands on the wall or I’ll stop,” he warns.
As soon as I do as he requires, his fingers shove inside me again from behind while he continues to tease my clit.
“Ohh God!” I cry out as the needy pressure builds in my lower belly and my legs tremble.
The back door of the club suddenly opens, spilling light out into the dark alley. I hold my breath as three shadows step out just a few feet from us. Can they see what we’re doing, or is it too dark?
“Well, don’t stop on my account,” I recognize Mario’s voice saying, answering my question.
Shit. He’s gonna fire me.
When Cain takes a step back from me and starts removing his hands, Mario stops him.
“No. Keep going. She’s so close that it would be rude for you to stop now.”
Cain goes stock still behind me for a long moment as I stand there frozen. I’m certain Cain will decline and tell Mario we’re done. But he doesn’t.
With a grumble of annoyance, Cain steps against me again and shoves his fingers into the front of my panties and inside me even harder than before.
“Cain?” I lo
ok over my shoulder and ask him in concern as he thrusts in and out. There’s no way he’s actually planning to do this in front of an audience.
“Forget them. Close your eyes. Pretend they’re not here if you have to, but you are gonna come for me,” he whispers in my ear. His big, strong hand, which can be soft and sensitive with a pencil in it or angry and unrelenting as he knocks men out, cups me hard and possessively between my legs. “When you want someone to touch you here, it will be me. Only me.”
“Anytime I want it?” I ask as the sound his fingers fucking my wetness grows louder.
“Anytime, angel,” he says with a nip to my earlobe. “Just grab my hand and put it where you need it. I’ll always take care of you.”
“Oh, God,” I moan as I get closer because of his declaration. If he means that, then his hand will stay under my skirt all the time. And right now, it feels like all it will take is a little more pressure to send me over the edge.
I cover Cain’s hand with mine again. This time he doesn’t reprimand me and tell me to put it back on the wall. He lets me press his fingers to my pussy and ride his hand like I need until I throw my head back on his shoulder with a scream of pleasure.
“Who owns you, angel?” Cain asks while my body continues to shake with the waves of pleasure.
“You do,” I easily agree. His mouth moves to my neck and sucks hard enough that I know he’ll leave a mark. That’s probably his intention, and I want him to claim me. Finally!
“I can smell her arousal from here.” Mario’s voice interrupts through the bliss, reminding me of the audience I had somehow temporarily forgotten. “Take her panties off,”
“No,” Cain replies.
“Take off her panties now,” Mario repeats slowly. “Or I’ll do it for you.”
Cursing under his breath, Cain eases my thong down my legs. I lift each of my heels for him to remove them.
“Give them to me,” Mario orders. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Cain balls up my thong in his fist and smacks it against Mario’s chest. When my boss holds them up to his nose and inhales deeply, I nearly die of mortification. Finally finished sniffing them, Mario stuffs the lace down the front of his dress pants.
