Fatal Knockout (Knockout Series Book 1)

by Bailes, Julie

  “Whoa there, killer, slow it down,” Mom screeches as the grocery bags she was carrying fall to the floor.

  “Sorry, just headin' out for a run,” I announce, helping her pick up the bags.

  “A run, huh, in your bra and panties?” she gives me a once over. “I mean, you might as well not wear anything at all; that doesn't cover much.”

  Bless her heart, she's so old school. “Well, I've never been one to streak, but if you insist,” I say, shimming out of my shorts playfully.

  “Aw, put your clothes back on and get going, but hurry back. I want to make you some dinner. It's been a while since we've had some girl time, and I miss you, love.” Wow. Depend on Mom to bring down the mood; damn Debbie Downer.

  “I'll make it quick,” I reply, giving her a swift kiss on the cheek. Turning away from her, I exit the door, and as soon as my feet hit the porch, I take off like a bat out of hell.

  After I finish my run, I'm famished and thankful Mom is making dinner. As I enter the house, the delicious smell of seasoned grilled chicken causes my mouth to water. If I were to stick out my tongue, it would drip faster than Niagara Falls. Slipping my shoes off, I head straight for the kitchen.

  “Just in time, love, made your favorite,” she says, smiling proudly.

  “Good, it's about time you cooked, woman!” She's made us a scrumptious grilled chicken salad with vegetables from our garden. I grab the tongs and place a large pile of leafy greens into my bowl, dash some dressing onto it, grab a breadstick, and dig in; it's exquisite.

  The juices from the chicken leak in my mouth as I bite down, and the seasonings have my taste buds erupting like fireworks on the fourth of July. After I scoff down the salad and basically lick my bowl clean, I stand to take my dishes to the sink when suddenly, mom takes my hand and urges me to face her.

  “Allie, I want to ask you something. I don't want you to flip out or feel obligated, but as you know, Kyle's birthday's next week, and well, the church is holding a service in remembrance of him and I-”

  Immediately, I cut her off. “No. Mom, no, I can't; I won't.” She releases my hand and all hope disappears from her face “I can't look at his pictures, let alone visit his gravesite. I keep telling myself that if I don't see it, it isn't real. I can't go back there and re-live his burial. It hurts too much,” I explain. If I can convince my brain that he's overseas on tour, then maybe my heart will believe it too, eventually.

  I head upstairs to take a quick shower and erase the sweaty grime from my body, and as I make my way to the bathroom my phone vibrates; I have several texts from Blake and three missed calls from Sophie.

  Blake: Hey, hotness, what's up?

  Blake: U ignoring me now?

  Blake: At least let me know you're okay, dammit!

  Blake: Fuck it! I'm on my way!

  Immediately, I text him to let him know that I'm fine; informing him that I went for a run and left my phone behind. I assure him that I'll call later. He doesn't respond so I assume he's satisfied with my reply; either that or he's on his way over. I set the phone down and it vibrates again,

  Sophie: Why aren't u answering ur fuckin phone?

  Sophie: Please, don't make me come over and go all bat-shit crazy on ur ass!

  Aw hell, not again. Texting her the same as Blake, I turn my phone off and head for the shower. After I finish washing myself, I stand under the water, letting it run over me until it turns cold. After I finish drying off, I open the door to exit the bathroom and enter my room.

  “Holy fuck!” I scream, as my heart falls straight through my vagina and crashes against the floor. There's a little, hot Italian woman sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning back with her legs crossed and her red stiletto's bouncing. “Soph, what the hell? How did you even get in here?” I ask, motioning to my door that was clearly locked, but is now open wide.

  “Picked it,” she replies nonchalantly, shrugging as if it's no big deal.

  “That shit's illegal. You know that, right?” I await her answer, but she's silent. I'm becoming uneasy. She's staring like she wants to bite me. “Why are you staring at me like that?” I ask, raising my brows.

  “You, my dear, have one hell of a body. Makes me wanna bat for my own team, again." Slutty Sophie say what? Again? What the hell does that mean? We've never discussed her sexual orientation, but with all the plumbers leaving her apartment, I'd just assumed she loved dick.

  “Again?” I ask, curiously.

  “Oh yeah, girl, but that's a story for another day,” she replies, walking over and rummaging through my closet.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Well in case you forgot, which I assume you have, it's Friday and you promised to join us at Willie's,” she reminds me, holding my clothes up to her as if she's going to wear them. I don't have a problem with her wearing my clothes, because we usually share anyway; however, she already looks hot as fuck.

  She's wearing black skinny jeans along with a tight red low-cut top, showing off her tan midriff, and exposing her cleavage. Her long silky-black hair flows down her back and her red peek-a-boo streaks stick out, matching her outfit perfectly. I hate to love her beautifulness.

  “Here, witch, go put this on and hurry the hell up,” she demands, handing me a pair of dark-denim skinny jeans with a pink and black striped halter. I throw on the clothes and head to the bathroom. Thankfully, my skin's blemish free and I don't require much make-up. Ha! Make-up, making up for the looks your ass don't have.

  I put on a little face powder, make my eyelids smoky, elongate my lashes with black mascara, and trace my lips with light pink gloss. Curling my hair, I pull it back into a loose ponytail so that the curls drape perfectly around my shoulders. Spraying myself with perfume, I head out to my room, and as I open the door, Soph shoves a pair of pink strappy pumps into my arms. “Here, strap these ladies on and let’s get goin'. Damn, woman!” She's so bossy.

  “Zip it, bitch; you can't rush perfection,” I inform her, strapping on the pumps. Reaching behind her, I grab my clutch and exit the door, but Sophie doesn't follow. “Comin'?” I motion out the door.

  “Can't,” she replies.

  “Why? Ohmygod, if you tell me I need to change, I will kick you in the vagina so hard your granny will scream in pain,” I hiss. She doesn't want to test me, not tonight; I'll do it!

  “Hell no, woman! I'm dumbfounded. Your sexiness paralyzed my mind for a minute, I forgot how to walk,” she stumbles playfully as she walks past me, slapping me on the ass. God, I love this woman. If you don't have a Sophie, you better start taking applications now. She's a total bad ass, and no one should have to spend their life without someone like her in it.

  We arrive at Willie's around ten fifteen, and for a Friday night, it's not too packed. Willie's is a small local bar with a great dance floor. The bar is L-shaped, the walls are wood paneled, and it reeks of sex and booze. As I wiggle my way through the dance floor, my eyes clash with the most handsome man in the room. He stands at six foot three, has lean muscles that go on for days, shuffled light brown hair, a gorgeous smile, and hypnotic hazel eyes. He's friggin' gorgeous, like Calvin Klein underwear-model sexy.

  Blake stands and waves me over to him. Running full force, I jump into him and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. “Hey, beautiful, I've missed you,” he whispers in my ear.

  “You have no idea how much I've missed you,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder. Blake is my security blanket. I know that I'm safe with him, and as much as I wish I wasn't, I'm dangerously attracted to him. I know we don't stand a chance, but it's nice to pretend.

  “Drink?” He kisses my temple and waves his arm, calling the bartender over. “What can I get you pretty ladies?” Ladies? Ladies is plural, meaning more than one, and I'm the only lady with Blake; unless he's referring to Blake as a woman. If that's the case, things are about to get real ugly.

  “We'll have two eight liquor ass kickers,” Sophie shouts, squeezing between Blake and I.

  Eight liquo
r ass kicker? I don't know a damn thing about alcohol, but this shit sounds lethal. “Soph, what's an eight liquor ass kicker?”

  “Eight liquor's, one drink, dangerously delicious,” she explains, taking her drink from the server.

  “Maybe I shouldn't.” I push my drink towards her.

  “No? What happened to 'I'm twenty-one and I'm gonna start living like it'?” she asks, using those damn air quotes I hate. “News flash, Al, this is what you're supposed to do when you're twenty-one; drink, dance, party, have lots of sex, and lose yourself in the moment.” She's holding her arms out, spinning in a circle like she's in heaven.

  Calling the bartender back over, I consider asking him to change my drink to coke on the rocks, then I look at how much fun everyone's having, and I think, to hell with it - I'm living it up tonight.

  The bartender delivers us a third round of these ass-kicker things, and I'm taking 'em down like a woman - nose holding and all.

  “Whoa! Al, be careful with that shit. It's been known to kick a few asses in its time,” Blake informs, playfully nudging my shoulder.

  “Yeah? Well, let it kick away,” I insist, tipping it back. Holding up the empty tube, I alert the bartender I want another round. Soph mimics my action and the bartender delivers us another drink. Soph takes hers back and heads for the dance floor.

  “Girl, I'm goin' to find me some candy,” she announces, dancing her way across the bar.

  Holding my tube up, I clink it against Blake's beer. “Bottom’s up, baby," Blake smiles, shakes his head, and releases soft chuckles. Bringing the tube to my lips, I suck the liquid down, and the alcohol burns as it slides down my throat; however, it doesn't burn enough to stop me from wanting another one. Signaling the bartender to bring me my fifth round, Blake reaches up and pulls my arm down onto the bar. “Damn, babe, slow down! Give those a chance to kick in. The effects from alcohol don't kick in immediately. That shit will hit you as soon as your feet touch this the floor.”

  I can't help but laugh out loud at the irony; ass kickers, kicking my ass. Who would've ever thought that they would live up to their name? “Well, if I get sick, you're taking care of me. I'm goin' home with you; keep that in mind, hot stuff.”

  He reaches over and swipes the curls away from my shoulder. His fingertips graze my skin; his touch causes every hair on my neck to rise. “Wouldn't have it any other way, babe,” he whispers into my ear.

  Ohmygod! The heat from his breath sends chills down my spine, and a delicious warmth pools inside of my sex. “This is the last one, and I mean it, dammit! What am I going to do with you?” he asks.

  Oh, believe me Blake, I've got plenty of ideas of things you can do to me, with me.

  My fifth drink is set before me and I take it down like the others, slamming the glass to the table as my head begins to throb. “Shit!” I place my hands on my forehead trying to stop the pain.

  “Brain freeze?” Blake laughs. Oh, he thinks this shit is funny? Maybe I should punch him in the throat, would I be funny then?

  “Not funny,” I say, shoving his chest. As I sit here and wait for the brain-throbbing misery to subside, Bruno Mars' “Treasure” begins to play in the background, and before I know it, Blake picks me up and slings me over his shoulder. “Hey! Put me down!”

  He gives me a slap to the ass and continues toward the dance floor. “This is my shit, Allie Grace! I will not put you down. We're dancin', babe.” When we make it to the dance floor, he slides the front of my body down his, causing my legs to feel weak.

  Blake takes my hand and pulls me to him, swaying us side to side. He spins me out and back into him again. His mom's a dance instructor, and she's taught the boy well. He brings my arms up around his neck, and then his hands grind their way up and down the sides of my body. He begins to sing the lyrics, “Treasure, that is what you are, girl you're my golden star”. His eyes devour me; it sends sparks throughout my body.

  Wow, just wow!

  Wrapping his arms around my waist, Blake pulls me into him and his erection rests against my stomach. Lord, help me. I'm losing control. Then, he grabs my hand and starts to repeat more lyrics. “You are my treasure, you are my treasure.” He's looking at me like a leprechaun who's just discovered its missing pot of gold.

  Bruno's voice begins to fade. I bring my arms around Blake's waist pulling him back towards the bar. “I want another drink,” I say.

  “Dammit, Allie, I already told you no more,” he says sternly.

  Well, I've got news for him; what Allie wants, Allie gets. Turning to face him, my tongue licks from his clavicle up to his ear. I take his lobe between my teeth and give it a gentle tug. “Last one, promise,” I whisper, rubbing my palm along the length of his cock.

  “Okay, but just one more. I mean it. You can't get drunk, because if for some reason you happen to give us a chance, I want you at least semi-sober.” He walks past me to the bar, but I'm unable to follow him. My legs are stiff. He's teasing right? I mean, he's been extremely flirty lately, but he's never mentioned giving “us” a chance.

  Our relationship can’t be categorized; we aren’t necessarily friends, but we aren’t a couple either. We’re flirtatious people afraid of commitment; well, at least I am. Basically we’re friends with minimum benefits giving playful touches here, and a sexual comment there every so often. His touch brings my body to life. I remember when I first met him in chemistry class a little over three years ago. His hand brushed against mine as we reached for the same beaker; that slight graze made every hair on my body stand, and it sent chills down my spine. He still has that effect one me, but neither one of us will act on our emotions. Commitment scares the living shit outta me.

  Oh. Shit.... Is that a heart in my throat? There's throbbing in my neck, pounding in my ears, and all of a sudden, I can't breathe. I need air.

  I turn and make my way to the exit sign hoping to expand my lungs. “Um, where you goin?” Sophie asks from behind me.

  “Well, see, I um…I-I need air,” I pant, fanning my face and gasping for air.

  “Holy shit, you're pale.” She grabs my hand and drags me outside the bar. “Breathe, girl, damn. What happened?” she asks concerned.

  It takes me a few moments to gather my thoughts. “Too. Much. Too. Soon,” I reply between gasps. I hope she can't tell I'm lying. It's not too much too soon; it's me comparing every man on Earth to Wyatt. Fuck! I hate him. I can't give myself to a man I know would give me the moon if I asked for it, all because of an inconsiderate asshole who took what he wanted and then just disappeared. If we ever cross paths again, I swear I'll turn his balls into a permanent bow tie.

  “Hey Soph, Al, you okay?” Blake peeks from behind the steel door that leads back inside to Willie's.

  “Great,” I say, plastering a smile onto my face. Walking to him, I take him by the hand and pull him back inside the bar with me. We make our way back to the bar and I order my final ass kicker. After I finish the drink, I'm feeling pretty damn good, minus the fuzziness my brain's experiencing.

  I watch Blake take down what's left of his beer when Maroon Five's “Love Somebody” begins to play. Blake slams his long neck to the bar and gets off his stool. Grabbing my hand, he urges me off my stool. “Dance with me.”

  I take his hand and he leads us through the crowd into the middle of the dance floor. He spins me around so that my back's to his front, but he doesn't move his body. His stillness is my cue. I know what he's waiting for, so I give it to him. As the soft melody flows, I sway my hips from side to side against his erection, and he rests his hands on my hips. Bringing my right hand down to cover his, I bring my left hand up behind me to stroke his face. Blake sings the lyrics beside my ear, and I soak them in; they hit me hard.

  Every word within that song describes how I feel when I'm with Blake. I really want to love somebody. I want to love Blake, but I can't. If I fall for him and he crushes me like Wyatt did, I'll never recover. Hell, I haven't recovered from four years ago. As I bring my hand down from Blake
's face, I snake my hips down his legs and back up again, feeling his erection against my back. Turning around, I wrap my arms around his neck and grind against him.

  A deep moan rolls up from his throat. “Fuck, Allie, you're driving me insane,” he growls.

  I slide my hands up the back of his neck and tangle my fists into his hair. I bring my lips to the hollow of his neck to kiss and taste him. He bends down and grips under my thighs, lifting me up and urging my legs around his waist. “You can't keep doing this to me, babe. You're teasing me. I'll have to rest my balls on ice for a week to relieve their pain,” he expresses, scraping his teeth over his bottom lip.

  I know I should stop, but it feels so right being wrapped around him; his body warming mine. I can't stop. I won't. I tighten my hands in his hair and pull his mouth to mine, crashing our lips. My tongue invades his mouth, silencing him.

  He walks us across the dance floor and pushes my back against the wall. I loosen my legs from his waist and he sets me to the floor. He places one hand on either side of my head and pins me against the wall with his hips. He stands slightly bent with his forehead resting against mine, and he's biting his lip hard. Pushing him back slightly, I reach in front of me and stroke his hardness. Blake throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. His nostrils flare as he inhales and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard several times.

  “Stop...Allie, stop.” He reaches down and removes my hand from him. I'm embarrassed.

  “I'm sorry, Blake, I thought you-”

  He places his finger over my mouth. “Shhh, don't, Al. I know what you're thinking, and I definitely want you. Hell, it's taking everything within me not to bend your pretty little ass over that bar and have my way with you - audience or not.” He brings his hand to cup my face. “But I can't,” he breathes. His thumb's trace my lips. “I need you to be mine, only mine.” He's staring deep into my eyes. “I don't want part of you, Al. I want all of you. Can you give yourself to me?”