Jag (Diablo's Throne MMA Book 2)

by HJ Bellus

  “Poor baby.” I squeeze his throbbing shaft. “Pick me up in your big fighter arms and take care of it.”

  Jag doesn’t come back with a witty comment. I’m up in his arms and pressed into the shower wall as he thrusts inside me, hard and deep. His body shields me from the evil of the world. When his skin is pressed into mine, I come alive with the drive to fight through what I need to. He’s my shelter and gives me hope.

  With each thrust, Jag bites down on my neck. The vibration rumbling from his chest sends me over the edge. His thick, hard dick continues to rock in and out of me. Jag throws his head back and roars. His Adam’s apple throbs in his throat. It’s as hot as the time he won his fight and went all barbaric. His hot seed fills me, coating and fueling the remnants of my release.

  “Jag.”

  He hums his answer.

  “Never leave me.” I dig my nails into the flesh over his shoulder blades. “Please, whatever happens, believe in me and don’t leave me.”

  “Sunni.” He drops his head to my forehead. “Talk to me.”

  Damn tears sting my eyes and win the war. They spill over with no apology. “I can’t right now, but just promise me that you’ll never leave me and believe in us.”

  “I got you.” His fingers dig into my ass. “I love you. So damn much.”

  I tighten my arms around his neck, wanting more than anything to pull him into my flesh until we are one. “I love you madly. I love you wildly. You are my heartbeat.”

  Chapter 15

  Jag

  “Jesus woman!” I leap back.

  There’s a crashing sound, then Sunni pops her naked body in the doorway. “What?”

  “Woman, this!” I point to the hot demon on the counter.

  “What?” She strides in, confident in her naked form, her hair still damp from our wild shower. After I blew my load inside of her, I had to taste her, which led her to sinking to her knees as if I was her altar and sucking me off. The sight of her licking my cum off her lips will always be my favorite.

  “Dick and a hot curling iron equals fried flesh.” I grab my junk, cringing at the thought.

  “Jag, stop.”

  “I’m serious. That’s the shit that makes up nightmares.” I wave a hand in the air, allowing one nut to fall free and quickly protect the loyal soldier. “I don’t want my pecker resembling fried chicken.”

  Sunni bursts out in laughter as she clutches her midsection. The little vixen steps in front of me. I relax with her as my shield but don’t let go of my dick and balls. She grabs her blow dryer and finishes drying her hair. Once she’s finished, she hands the dryer back to me, knowing damn well my inner diva needs to look dashing tonight.

  Thoughts of dick frying leave as my naked woman leans over the counter and begins applying makeup. She never wears much. Just the perfect amount. Fuck, I’m a damn pussy, because there’s not one thing I could pick at besides her reluctance to open up to me.

  After my hair is dry, I flip off the switch and lean over Sunni, tossing the hair dryer in the sink. She turns to me, wiping her palms together.

  “Here.” She raises her hands to my hair. “Let me.”

  I remain silent, watching her hands work magic in the mirror with her perfect naked plump ass staring right back at me. Fuck me. Her hands are magic. I knew this from the way she’s worked me over, but it’s more than that. It’s as if her hands were made to style hair. It’s as natural as it comes.

  “You like?” She steps back, tilting her head and admiring her work.

  I waggle my eyebrows and look from each side, giving my hair a stern review. “I like it, but it’s the face that makes.”

  Sunni slaps my chest. “Get out of here, so I don’t fry your weenie!”

  I dart from the bathroom, cupping my junk and squealing until I bounce on the end of the bed.

  “You are an idiot!” Sunni gets out between giggles.

  “A naked idiot you love. Get it right, woman.” I cross my ankles on the bed and prop up my head. I watch as she runs her hands through her long locks and seamlessly runs the hot iron through it. Everything hits me.

  “You’re a hair stylist.” It comes out as a question and answer.

  Sunni freezes. Her chest rises sharply then falls. It takes her long moments until she cranes her head to look at me. The space between the bathroom and the opening of our room expands into endless miles. I watch her response play out on her face as she decides whether to tell me the truth or to run again.

  The pounding sound of silence has always haunted me. The ringing of nothingness drives my circuited brain wild. This is no exception. I keep my mouth snapped shut and don’t say a word. It’s a struggle and one that I owe this woman.

  Sunni looks away from me, finishing off her hair. The curls are perfect as she lets them fall down her back. A fine mist of sweet-smelling spray showers her head. It’s then she faces me and walks toward me. Her first step is confident but followed up by hesitant ones. I watch all her insecurities play out as she nears me.

  Sunni ducks her chin, hiding her bright eyes from me. “I love doing hair. It was my passion. I owned a salon in Iowa before I had to leave.”

  I snag her wrist, pulling her down to me. I don’t say a word, relishing what she just gave me. Sunni has gifted me with her heart and soul. But this is so much more. She’s cracking open her sealed crate of demons and is fighting to share them with me as well. It’s the missing puzzle piece to us.

  Our lips crash together. Sunni’s done talking and shows me as much as she devours my mouth. I clutch her hips and feel her wince. I can’t help myself. I need her to know I’m here for her no matter what. I lift her gently until she’s lined up over me.

  Our lips pop apart. Sunni plants her hands on my chest, digging her fingers into my flesh. “This is my foundation. You.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip as she sinks down and takes charge. Tears stream down her face. It guts and twists me up and forces pride through my veins. It’s a fucking storm I’ve never felt and one I never want to seek shelter from.

  Sunni’s nails pierce my flesh as she grinds down further, seeking more. I give her all I have, bucking from underneath her. There’s no way I could go again. It seems he has another plan.

  I sit up, taking a nipple in my mouth. My teeth sink into the fleshy heaven. Sunni’s hands go to the shaven sides of my head. I pay her other nipple as much attention. My arms are wrapped around Sunni, keeping her close to me as she continues to roll her hips.

  We both cry out at the same time, falling once again together. The only sound is our hearts thumping in unison. The minty scent of our bath wash and raw sex lingers in the air. I keep a tight grip on her, the center of my world planted deep in my chest.

  “We are going to be so late,” Sunni mumbles.

  “Gotta make an entrance, baby girl.” I flex my arms around her. “Ain’t in a rush to leave this moment.”

  “Me either.”

  And we don’t. It’s not until my phone rings not one or three times, but five that we even think about moving. Our torsos relax back with our hands still clinging to each other. The worry of the world is back on Sunni’s chest. It’s evident in the way she inhales and exhales. Frustration as I’ve never felt settles in. Patience has never been my strong suit.

  I open my mouth to crack a joke then snap it shut. Silence. The dreaded soundlessness once again creeps in. The chills that race up my spine go ignored until Sunni makes the next move. She grazes her lips up and down the length of my jaw, stopping at my ear. She swirls patterns over my earlobe with her tongue.

  “Love you. The best gift you’ve given me is time.” She kisses my cheek one last time before disappearing into the bathroom.

  I grab my phone to see missed calls from Boss and Layla coupled with texts warning me not to be late. They’re already pissed I refused the sponsored limo. Ain’t no way in hell I’m showing up in that shit. I’ll always stick to my roots and my damn truck.

  I’d do anything to
remain naked on the bed waiting for Sunni to return but force myself to get up. I slip into a pair of black boxers and check out my hair in a mirror. Damn, held up nice. I also refused a fucking monkey suit. I wasn’t alone in this protest. Boss, Cruz, and Trick were right by my side. Layla gave it her best efforts but knew they were useless.

  I slide into black dress pants, slip on socks, and black combat boots before grabbing the white button-up shirt. The material is stiff against my skin and bugs the shit out of me as soon as I flick it on. I do up the bottom buttons, leaving a majority of the top ones down. I roll up the sleeves, exposing my thick forearms, and call it fucking good.

  This shit is the part I don’t truly care for. Give me a gym, the octagon, or an opponent, and that’s my poison. The fuel that keeps me going. The shitty part is all the other crap that goes along with it. In the past, it was never me in the spotlight. I’d attend the event and drink the free alcohol knowing I could work it off and find a piece of ass to take home.

  “Hun, can you help me?” The bathroom door creaks open as Sunni takes a step into the bedroom, her right arm up and behind her back, holding the neck of her dress together.

  My jaw slackens, and my dick comes to life. Down boy, we are late. I take a moment to soak in the sight in front of me. Smooth, tan legs exposed for days. Sunni’s breasts pushed up just enough to tease anyone.

  “Jesus, babe.” The two words ghost from my lips.

  “You like?” She steps up in front of me and turns her back to me.

  I lean down, growling into her neck and giving her my answer.

  “Can you latch this dress? My arm is going numb.”

  The dainty metal clasp shines out from the black raven material. My fingers fumble a few moments getting it latched. I plant my palms on the top of her shoulders and run them down the length of her arms.

  “I’ve never seen anything so fucking perfect in my life.” I kiss the side of her neck.

  Sunni steps away from me. Her black dress fits her top half like a glove, hugging her perfect curves. It flares at the waist, hitting high above her knee. It’s as simple as a dress comes. No patterns or lacy shit. On Sunni, it’s stunning. A guttural growl rumbles from my chest.

  Sunni cranes her neck to look at me in her bent-over state. The globes of her ass taunt me underneath her dress as she slips on sexy as fuck black heels.

  “Are you trying to get me killed tonight?” I roll up my sleeves a bit more. The tight opening bites into my thick arms. “I’m going to knock any fool out that checks you out.”

  “No, you’re not!” She plucks a little purse thing from the bed and loops her arm in mine. “You, Jag, are going to be the perfect gentleman.”

  We walk toward the door. I shoot her a downward stare. We both erupt in laughter, knowing damn well I’m the furthest thing from a gentleman. By the time we make it out to the sidewalk, Layla’s ringtone chirps in Sunni’s purse thing under her arm.

  “Layla?” I ask, pulling open my truck door for her.

  Sunni shrugs. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, she and I are the only ones with your number.” I snag her by the waist and toss her up on the bench seat.

  Sunni’s surprised squeal floats up and down the abandoned street framed by the sunset. I flip the skirt of her dress up and dash under it. My spine stiffens when I come into view with a tiny as hell black thong. I tug it aside, swipe my tongue through her folds, then flip her dress down.

  Sunni throws a hand up, grabbing my shoulder. She sits up, still laughing. I’m not. My jaw ticks with anger.

  “We are stopping by the gym, and you’re going to put on a pair of my spandex under this dress.” I palm her exposed kneecaps.

  “You are ridiculous. We are not.”

  “You expect me to hold business conversations when I know there’s a piece of damn floss between your sweet pussy and this dress?”

  She shoves off my chest, manages to swing her legs in the cab, and shuts the door, efficiently denying me. Her laughter echoes around the cab, seeping into the outside air. I round the front of my black truck, shaking my head. Sunni thinks I’m kidding. Part of me is…the very tiniest part.

  Sunni slides over to the middle once I settle behind the wheel. We’ve only been in my truck a handful of times since everything is within walking distance. I fall even deeper in love with her dress as I shift and glide my hand up and down her leg.

  A sea of red taillights forms blocks ahead of us. The towering skyscraper where the event is being held is visible, but it looks like we’ll be waiting a bit. Sunni’s hand trails over my crotch every few seconds. The first time, I chalk it up to an accident. It’s when it happens the fifth time, I peer over to her, licking my lips.

  “Behave, baby girl.”

  Chapter 16

  Sunni

  We do everything backward. Jag forced me to move in before we’d even officially started dating. He showed me his peen before he kissed me and claimed me before he knew he wanted me.

  Tonight is no exception. We devoured and sexed each other up well and good before the event. I didn’t think I had anything left inside of me once Jag tossed me up into his truck. Boy, was I wrong. I’d never been so thankful for a traffic jam.

  I slump into the thick cushioned seat at the table with Jag’s name. I run my palm over the expensive royal blue satin tablecloth while admiring the delicate centerpieces. Thick chunky glass vases filled with water and floating candles. The sponsors pull off a luxurious feel combined with a masculine touch. I’ve never seen such beauty poured into decorating an event. It’s seriously straight from a magazine. The amount of money it took to put this together is staggering.

  My body is exhausted, and so is my mind after today’s events. I brush back my loose curls, enjoying the seat at the table by myself. I’m close enough to the crowd but far enough away to stay out of the attention. There are cameras everywhere. Jag has spent most of his time in front of a massive photo drop with brands plastered all over.

  He winks at me when he finds me watching him. I smile back, letting him know I’m doing fine. He has a bottle of water clutched in one hand while his other is thrown around the shoulder of an older man in a suit. They both smile wide for the camera.

  The sparkling wine glass in front of me sends a sweet smell my way. I’ve noticed Jag has declined every whiskey or beer offered to him. He hasn’t drunk any alcohol since that night at the bar. He’s a machine focused on his career.

  I sip on the crisp white wine, feeling even more relaxed watching the chaos of the party. It’s very entertaining sitting back and people watching. Between the sex exhaustion and wine, I’m completely relaxed.

  Cruz swings Layla out on the dance floor. They keep up to the music with perfection until Layla steps on Cruz’s giant foot, and they both laugh then continue. Boss hasn’t sat down one time; he’s too busy talking to everyone he can. I overheard a few of the conversations. Boss was promoting and pushing Jag to everyone he spoke to. It wasn’t a hard job since Jag seemed to be the center of the chatter.

  I tip back the glass, finishing off the wine. A server is at my side offering me a new full glass and taking away the empty one.

  “Thank you.” I fiddle with the dainty silver chain around my neck.

  “Yes, ma’am. Anything else I can get you?” the gray-haired gentleman asks.

  “No, thank you.” I smile warmly. “This should be the last glass of wine as well.”

  “I’ve been instructed to take good care of you. Just let me know.”

  I smile again, watching the older man’s retreating form. I glance around and notice not one other server is hovering over Jag or any of the men from Diablo’s Throne. I also see the man who is paying considerable attention to me is the eldest of all the servers, the majority of them being young and attractive men.

  I glance toward Jag to see him looking back at me. I raise an eyebrow and narrow my eyes. He shrugs and smiles wide. I continue to sip on the wine, feeling my eyelids grow heavy and the a
che in my chest subside. Wine has always been a weakness of mine, and I rarely indulge in it anymore. The sweet nectar had become my coping mechanism for several months.

  Jag separates himself from the crowd fawning over him. With each step he nears, my belly tightens. The scent of sex and leather strikes me hard when he’s standing in front of me holding out a hand.

  “Fancy a dance, me lady?”

  A giggle escapes my lips. The wine seems to make everything funny. “Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?”

  He shrugs, tugging me to my feet. “Some say I’m hard-headed. Never learn and all that other shit.”

  “I’d agree with them.” Jag whirls me around until I’m pressed up against his chest.

  “Just follow my lead. Always follow my lead and you’ll be just fine.”

  “I know,” I whisper.

  Jag wraps his arms low around my waist. He grazes his fingers along the top of my ass as he sways us to a slow P!NK song. The words and emotion wrapped up in the song talk right to my soul in its native tongue. It’s the outpouring of warmth and love from the man holding me that makes me not give two shits about my dancing abilities.

  As one song fades into the next, Jag makes me feel like the queen of the world. His body moves so easily with the beat of the song, pulling mine along with him for the ride. His muscular chest and arms framing me are a stark contrast to the way he elegantly dances.

  “Are you having a good night?” I ask, with my cheek pressed into the shoulder of his dress shirt.

  “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. The executives are eager to sponsor me on my way to Vegas.”

  “All I know is you’re the sexiest man in the room.” I lean up and kiss his exposed neck.

  “That’s always a fucking given.” He looks down at me and winks.

  Damn smartass. We are broken apart when he’s pulled away by someone in a suit. I kiss him and tell him to go, because honestly, my spot at the table is perfect for me. It’s the ideal perch to observe the action in the room. And watching Jag in his prime is a significant perk.