by Scott, Ada
Each and every time the shame returned, though. I was bad, bad, bad, for having those thoughts, an evil, selfish, shameless little bitch.
Sometimes he’d call or text, wanting to see me, and I always found a way to turn him down. When he wasn’t right there, I managed to find the willpower.
Today, though, was going to be tough. As part of the promotion for the next NHBFC event in Las Vegas, where Austin was going to be fighting Ernesto Sanchez, we were going to be filming a short segment of the two of us walking along the lakeshore next to the New Ashby Event Center and announcing our relationship and impending marriage.
Robbie had told me about half an hour ago, a make-up lady had come and spent ten minutes with me, and now I had a few minutes left to go over the notes before I met Austin and the crew outside. Apparently the two of us met when he saved me from a mugger. Well, that was less embarrassing than the truth, at least.
Somebody knocked on the door a fraction of a second before it opened. I looked up and froze like a deer in the headlights. Austin was here. And I was all alone.
His eyes quickly found me, and a satisfied smirk took hold on his face as he closed the door slowly, but firmly, behind him. I gulped when it clicked loudly.
“They said you’d be here.”
“Um… yeah, but I guess we need to get going to the lake-” I said.
“No. We’ve got enough time.”
Austin slowly stalked in my direction, and my sense of being a deer frozen in surprise as an alpha predator bore down on me was more powerful with every moment. I stood and half-tripped over my own chair as I unconsciously began backing away from him.
“T-time for what?”
My ass hit the wall and I braced my hands against it as he came closer, gradually looming over me. With all that size and strength, he should have been a lumbering giant, but I’d seen him move lightning fast too.
That’s what made this slow advance feel even more like he was toying with me. His eyes dropped down, then slowly worked their way back up, drinking me in with such intensity I almost thought my clothes must have disappeared.
I waited for the surge of shame that always followed any interest from a man, and again it didn’t seem to be able to rise over how hot he made me feel. My stomach fluttered, and I felt a jolt of unexpected sensation from between my legs that made me gasp quietly.
Untouched though I was, having Austin’s eyes on me felt like an itch being gently scratched in my belly. The satisfaction spread all over my body, but concentrated on my clit. Why couldn’t life be simpler?
“Time to practice our kissing scene.”
“W-what?”
He was right in front of me now, and I couldn’t back away any further. His biceps strained at the sleeves of his shirt, even though he was as relaxed and cool as could be, and that intoxicating aroma of his that haunted my dreams made me ravenous for something other than food.
“Page three,” he chuckled. “Guess you haven’t read that far yet.”
“Oh, I… well…”
Austin put his finger to my chin and guided my face up to look at him. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
I blushed. “No, I… it’s-”
He shook his head, cutting me off. “You’re fighting hard, but I know you want it. You’ve got the most innocent fuck-me-eyes I’ve ever seen… but they’re still fuck-me-eyes.”
The way he emphasized “fuck,” I could tell that if he had his way, that’s exactly what would happen. There’d be no sweet lovemaking, no candles, just endless lust. Images of it flashed through my mind, shouting over my inhibitions for attention.
Austin’s finger trailed down from my chin to my neck, leaving a trail of dull fire, until he gripped my throat with that one huge hand. I could breathe, but found it difficult when I gulped again.
He could crush the life out of me with that hand if he wanted to. All that power, all that raw danger, pinning me against the wall, was barely held in check. He was totally in control of me.
The powerful fighter leaned down and, as his face came closer to mine, it dawned on me that I was about to have my first kiss, and it was nothing like the romance movies I’d seen. He never said he loved me, never gave me any flowers, he just held me against the wall and utterly dominated my will to resist him.
My heart was beating so hard, I wondered if he could feel my fear and excitement pulsing in my neck. He must have been reading me like a book, sure of himself as he was, and when his lips touched mine, I absolutely melted in the moment.
Austin kissed me deeper and deeper, forcing my mouth ajar further with each motion of his jaws until it was wide open and I felt his tongue touching mine. His hand curled around to grasp the back of my neck, pulling me into the kiss even harder.
My whole body was tingling with exhilaration, nowhere more so than my nipples, which were diamond-hard and aching with a need that I’d never experienced before. Somehow, I knew, that ache could only be satisfied by the sucking, the pinching, the kneading of my breasts by a strong male hand.
He was so close, I wanted to push against him and feel his strength along the entire length of my body. I realized I was standing on the tips of my toes, straining up to let him continue to steal my breath away and only barely keeping my balance. I needed him. Needed him.
I felt his knee push between my legs and roughly shove them to either side, which brought me down from the tips of my toes, and I felt my rear end slide a couple of inches down the wall as our lips parted. With his spare hand, Austin reached under my skirt, and I felt his fingers trailing up my inner thighs, towards the most carefully guarded treasure I had.
A sudden flash of, not quite shame, but definitely self-doubt struck me. If he touched me through those panties, I might or might not explode, but he would definitely feel how wet I was, and my last veil of deniability would be gone.
Weakly, I reached down and tried to push his hand away, but I might as well have been trying to stop the tide coming in. Only a few seconds later, he was cupping my sex through my sopping wet panties with a look of smug triumph on his face.
“You are so fucking hot for me, I’m surprised you’re not begging for my cock yet.”
I shut my eyes at the mention of his manhood, so he couldn’t read my wild desire for it in them. That only served to make it easier for my imagination run wild, and for a moment I saw with crystal clarity my virgin pussy stretched around his thick rod, and heard my screams of ecstasy.
“So go on,” he continued. “Fucking beg for it. Make me believe it and I might just put you out of your misery.”
“I… I… please…”
A knock followed by the sound of the door opening snapped me back to reality, but I was still powerless to move. I stared into Austin’s eyes as somebody said words in what I thought must have been English.
“Austin? Skylar? We’re ready for you, could you hurry up plea… oh. Sorry. Um… just come on out… uh… please.”
The door shut again in a hurry, and Austin looked like he was weighing up some options.
“Saved by the bell, eh?” He moved his lips close to my ear. “You are a sexy little fuck waiting to happen. Mark my words, you will beg for my cock before this is through.”
With that, he let me go and headed towards the door as I swayed a little to keep my balance. He closed it behind him, leaving me alone in the room again where either it or my head was definitely spinning.
I stumbled to the table, to my handbag, feeling like I’d just jumped off the railway tracks before the train came through, and pulled out a handkerchief. Pausing to make sure the empty room was really empty, as if there was anywhere that anybody could hide, I quickly stroked it up the inside of my left thigh, where a single trickle of my natural lubricants was cutting a tickly trail towards my knee.
This was crazy. I should stop this right now before his prophecy came true. He was going to make me do everything I’d been trying to avoid my whole life if he had his way. And if things kept on going like th
is… I was going to beg him to do it.
Chapter 8
Austin
Holy matrimony blah, blah, blah, cherish forever fucking yadda-yadda-yadda. The second I got Skylar alone in that honeymoon suite, that’s when the real celebrations would begin.
How she managed to avoid me enough to keep that precious virginity intact this long, I was still trying to fathom. The worst part of it was that I couldn’t fuck around with other women in the meantime.
If the press got wind of me going balls-deep in Ariana, for example, well, that would blow my new nice guy image right out of the water, and there went the title shot with it. Tonight though, in that honeymoon suite, I was going to fucking erupt. It was going to be like Mount Cum-more in there.
I hoped Skylar survived until morning, because fucking my virgin bride to death would probably be contrary to the image Robbie Johnson was trying to foster too. Damned if I was going to hold back, though.
I’d never gone for this long without fucking ever since I started, and it was driving me crazy. It wasn’t helping my predicament that Skylar looked like sex on legs.
When I saw her walking down the aisle, a couple of things struck me. First, it was strange that she didn’t have anybody walking with her, giving her away.
Second, I was glad I’d called Robbie a cheap fuck and chipped in some of my own cash so Skylar could get a wedding dress from a different designer than the one who had made her Tier-2 Sports Therapy uniform.
Perhaps it was for the best that she walked down the aisle by herself. She was so fucking hot that anybody walking with her might have withered away like a vampire in the sunshine.
She was so shy that she didn’t meet anybody’s eyes as she walked except mine, and even that was only the most fleeting of glances. It made me rock-hard knowing that under that form-fitting, pristine-white dress was a tight little virgin pussy that I was going to have all to myself after weeks of waiting.
For her part, Skylar looked like she was slowly, agonizingly, letting herself get swept away in the fantasy of it all. When people told her how beautiful she was, she tentatively thanked them, but it seemed like she was always waiting for a backhanded insult to follow the compliments.
That cloud that crossed her face whenever she might be in danger of feeling good gradually cleared, and this smile that could end empires took a hold. I’d never seen anything like that kind of joy before.
The guest list consisted of a few friends of mine, a bunch of people organized by Robbie and the NHBFC, like fighters from other weight divisions that I’d never get to fuck up, and their families, and some star-struck girls from Skylar’s college. Some of those girls were going to be living out some fantasies tonight if I was reading the situation right, and I was.
I gave Skylar her first dance for the mandatory photo opportunities, and then hung back because fuck that shit. Skylar cut some shapes out there on the dancefloor with her friends, but came over to me if another guy danced too close for her comfort, as if for some reassurance about something.
To my surprise, whatever distance was too close for Skylar’s comfort was actually further than mine. Heel-face turn or not, I’d have snapped anybody’s neck if they had the audacity to try and pull anything at my motherfucking wedding, even if it was a fake marriage.
As early as was humanly possible, I bundled Skylar off to the limo and climbed in after her. At last, after I put up the privacy window between us and the driver, I had her alone again.
I saw her wringing her hands in front of her, her purity ring now gone and replaced by my ring. She was wearing that little piece of jewelry that proclaimed to the whole world she was mine, and all that was left to do was for me to claim her.
I shifted closer to her and she shrank a little, her body language betraying all her nerves, but those eyes of hers still begged me to fuck her. That wish was going to be granted.
“You were the sexiest woman ever to walk down the aisle today,” I said.
“Oh. Th-thanks. I got kind of lost in the moment there. Forgot myself. I’ve never had a day anything like that before.”
I reached up and tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. That white gold and diamond bridal tiara of hers caught a few glints of light, but it wasn’t as bright as her smile had been.
Curling my fingers behind her neck, I took control of her like I had in that spare room at the New Ashby Event Center. I could feel her shaking with that same fear and excitement; she was positively humming under my touch.
“Um… so, you’re sleeping in your room, I’m sleeping in mine?” she asked.
One corner of my mouth raised in a smile, and I had a single humorless chuckle as I reached up under her wedding dress. Those wholesome pecks for the TV spot, and the family-friendly kiss after we were proclaimed man and wife, were nowhere near enough.
I wanted to pick up right where I’d left off, with my hand on her soaking wet little pussy as I kissed her so hard her head spun. Because now it was my pussy. All fucking mine.
“You know what I’d rather do?” I asked.
Skylar’s resistance was as token and ineffective as it had been the last time. Wriggle around though she did, grasp at my wrist though she tried, she actually opened her legs further to give me easier access. Her bluff was called.
“You… you want to have sex with me,” she said.
“No.”
The look on her face told me that was the last answer she’d been expecting, and she went still. Her hands halted their resistance in confusion as I closed the distance to the tight opening I was going to fuck bareback as soon as possible.
“You… don’t?”
“No. I want to fuck you until you scream my name, until you scream it so loud that you know you’re mine as much as I do.”
My hand touched the crotch of her panties and I could feel her virgin slit through the thin material, so wet, radiating sexual heat. Mine.
Skylar gasped and I kissed her, hard.
Chapter 9
Skylar
We arrived at our hotel just as I thought I was about to lose consciousness from the intensity of Austin’s kisses. He pulled away, and I panted for air as he opened the rear door. We stepped out to be met with paparazzi taking pictures with strobe-light speed.
It seemed that Robbie’s plan to drum up interest was working, but that was little consolation as a surge of fear hit me. My panties were halfway down my thighs, as Austin had just roughly yanked them down when the limo pulled up to the curb.
With all those cameras taking pictures in the rear of the vehicle, I had no option to pull them back up. I smoothed my dress down and shuffled over to the door, where Austin scooped me up as if he was going to carry me all the way over the threshold from the curb. I offered silent thanks for the length of the gown, and for the fact that I wouldn’t have to do some strange duck-waddle through the media to the hotel entrance.
Austin carried me so easily, it felt like the muscular fighter could have spun me on one finger like a basketball. A pair of girls in the elevator looked so jealous behind their congratulatory smiles.
He did carry me all the way to the door of his room, the honeymoon suite, only taking one hand away from me briefly to drag a key card out of his pocket and swipe it to open the door. Slamming it shut with a backwards kick, he crossed the room and threw me on the bed, where I bounced a couple of times before finding my balance. I sat up with my hands bracing myself on the mattress behind me and my feet facing towards Austin.
My husband shrugged off his jacket. It dropped to the ground before he literally ripped his shirt apart as if it was paper, and I could hear buttons rolling and skittering along the floor as he discarded the shreds of material. He kicked his shoes off. For the first time since that night in the dressing room, I was exposed to that glorious torso of his, the inked skin and masculine lines.
Just as inside the ring, his every movement was artwork. Muscles flexed and rippled as he mounted the bed and walked himself forward
on his knees, distorting his tattoos one after the other.
My mind was racing with thoughts running too fast to properly comprehend. I was on a bed. With a man. And he said he was going to fuck me until I screamed.
That combination of facts had my heart thundering in my ears. I tried to tell myself that it was my wedding night, but the answer always came back, yeah, but it’s fake.
If I’d been willing to give up my chance at escaping my past, I could have put a stop to this. I could have given back the money, lost my job, dropped out of college, and gone home.
The terror, playing a cruel game of tug-o-war with lust in my mind, was telling me maybe that would have been a better idea. Yet, Austin’s washboard abs were right in front of me now, and I seemed to have to drag my eyes up across an endless expanse of masculine perfection before I was looking at his face again, fueling the lust side of the battle.
I’d let my hair down figuratively and literally during the wedding reception, and Austin reached down to take a firm fistful of it at the back of my head. He gave me a short, sharp, shake before stroking my cheek and pushing one finger into my mouth, using the tip to draw a little circle on my tongue.
“You are mine. In this bed, in any bed, you do exactly what I say.”
There was no question, no review of my understanding, just his unbendable will and a few statements of fact. My libido was kicking the hell out of its little cage, telling me to suck that finger like a hard dick and then lean forward and lick those abs, wanting me to give the very core of my being to the bad boy of MMA.
All this pure, unapologetic, man in front of me, I wanted it all. I couldn’t possibly handle it, but I wanted it all.
My skin was tingling in chaotic excitement. Every shift of the bed under me, every movement of my wedding dress, and most importantly the pull of my hair against my scalp and the shallow penetration of his finger in my hot wet mouth, sparked electric shivers that bounced around and fed off one another.
