Blake: A Bad Boy Romance

by Day, Laura

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ivy had to wake up early for work. Her alarm went off at six-thirty. She hit snooze and Blake turned over on his side to wrap his arms around her. She snuggled back into him and he kissed the back of her neck. It was still dark outside and he fell back asleep almost instantly. Her alarm went off again and this time she roused herself from bed. Blake felt her lean over and press her lips against his cheek.

  “I’m gonna shower and get ready for work,” Blake nodded. He filtered in and out of sleep as Ivy moved quietly around him. Finally, he sat up and looked at her.

  She was just wearing a robe and she slipped it off her shoulders and fell to the floor.

  “I’m glad I woke up,” Blake said, rubbing his eyes.

  Ivy smiled at him and slipped into a pair of black panties. Her eyes on Blake, she bent over and began to pull her stockings up her legs and over her knees.

  “Don’t start the engine if you're not going to drive the car,” Blake said. His morning wood was only growing as he gazed at her.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ivy teased as she stood up and put on a bra. “I’m just getting dressed.”

  “Yeah, but now I want you to be undressed,” Blake said with a yawn.

  “Sorry, I have to go to work,” Ivy said. She was fully dressed and made up and she walked towards Blake who grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

  “See you tonight?” Blake asked.

  “Yes,” Ivy answered with a crooked smile as she grabbed her phone and headed out the door.

  He had almost forgotten about the stuffed elephant left the other day. He wanted to remind Ivy to be careful, but then he remembered she didn’t need to be reminded. She knew how to be safe.

  He followed with his own morning routine and was happy to see that, so far, things with Ivy were fine. In fact, coffee was already brewed so, right now, having her living with him was better than him living alone.

  He drove to his gym and parked his car in the lot. His gym in Seattle was nothing like Paulie’s gym. He trained at Boxing World. It was a large, modern gym with a juice bar, weight room, indoor track, pool, and a staff masseuse and physical therapist. Paulie’s was a boxing gym, but after high school Blake had expanded his repertoire beyond boxing. He had started training for MMA fights at this gym in the city. This gym had more of what Blake needed, but he would always be loyal to Paulie.

  He swung open the door and swiped his ID card, letting himself in. He walked through the bright and pristine weight lifting room and through and past a large group of cardio machines. He jogged up a set of stairs and opened the door to the fighting training center. His other coach, Jamal, was waiting for him at the ring.

  “There you are, welcome back to town, Blake,” Jamal said. “You train with Paulie when you were back home? How is that ancient son of a bitch?”

  “He’s good. Just don’t let him hear you calling him old. He sucker punched me for it.”

  “So, we gonna talk about that last fight?” Jamal asked. His arms were crossed and he did not look happy.

  “I won, didn’t I?” Blake said. He was getting tired of everyone’s comments on the last fight. No one knew what it was like to be in the cage. Blake was the one who had to actually do the fight. He was the one with all the pressure. Things couldn’t always be perfect.

  “You almost didn’t win,” Jamal said.

  “Something was on my mind, but it’s sorted out now,” Blake said, shrugging his shoulders. His knuckles were taped and he stretched quickly to warm up. He hopped onto the treadmill and Jamal sped it up to six miles an hour. Blake quickly began to jog, feeling his heart begin to pump harder.

  “So we need to work on your mental game?” Jamal asked, speeding the treadmill up.

  “My mental game is fine. I’m fine,” Blake said. But he wasn’t sure. It was a random woman’s shout that had set him off at the last match. He still didn’t know why it affected him so strongly. He was used to fans yelling at him and people who weren’t his fans screaming horrible words at him. It didn’t bother him, but pumped him up. He liked to hear his fans scream and to hear when his opponent’s fans realized they were about to lose. He lived for it.

  “So what happened?” Jamal asked.

  Blake stopped the treadmill and turned to Jamal and said. “This woman shouted out, I love you, Blake and it threw me for some reason,” Blake said quietly. “I’ve heard a lot of yelling and screaming, but never that before.”

  “So why did it throw you off?” Jamal asked.

  “Because it reminded me of the last girl who said that,” Blake said, turning the treadmill back on and beginning to run. “That had never happened before. But I’m ready for it if it happened again.”

  “Let’s find out,” Jamal said.

  He trained for hours. Cardio followed by weights and then sparring sessions. He focused on his kicks and staying on his feet and on staying focused. It was easier now. Anytime he needed to think about Ivy he knew he would see her back at home in just a few hours. He didn’t need to worry about her.

  He felt back in the zone. Anytime he felt himself lagging he thought about that stuffed elephant nailed to the door, black paint dripping down onto Ivy’s floor and he would redouble his efforts. He would get all of his anger for Darryl out here. And he would be ready if Darryl ever tried to start something with him.

  This was another big fight coming up. All of his fights were big now. Everyone he went up against was the best. There would be no more easy wins or assured victories. He was at the steepest point of his climb. He was within grasping distance of first place, but getting there would take everything he had.

  ***

  Blake draped a cool towel over his neck. He and Jamal were sitting in the sauna, letting the warm air relax and sooth his tight muscles. He had worked hard all day and he knew he would sleep well that night.

  “So, the last girl who told you she loved you, where is she now.”

  “At work,” Blake answered. “But in two hours she’ll be back at my place.” He couldn’t stop the smirk that came across his face. Ivy would be back at his place, relaxing on the couch, a vision of perfection.

  “Nice,” Jamal said with a nod.

  “Yeah, we weren’t together in the last fight,” Blake admitted. “It was getting to me. But things are good now.”

  “Careful now,” Jamal said. “Don’t let that girl take root in your head. Your success is on you alone. It’s not tied to anything or any relationship, including her.”

  “I know,” Blake said. “It’s not like that with her. She’s good for me. There’s just one thing: she’s got a crazy ex.”

  “They always do,” Jamal said with a shake of his head.

  “I mean, legit crazy,” Blake said. “He called her thirty-eight times the other night and every voicemail was just some creepy kid laughing or heavy breathing.”

  “Whoa, that’s weird.”

  “The other day we found a stuffed animal covered in black paint with spiders for eyes nailed to the front door.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “I know. It’s this spoiled little rich boy. He’s untouchable. He never gets caught and when he does he just buys his way out of it. I need to get rid of him but I don’t know how.”

  “You can’t do anything like that. You get arrested and your career is over. They could suspend you,” Jamal warned. “I know it’s hard, but you just have to bring all the rage you have for this guy and channel it into the ring. Take it out on your opponent. Remember the best revenge is a life well lived. The best thing you and your girl can do is be happy together while you bring in endorsement deals and land magazine covers.”

  “It’s easier said than done. It’s hard to sit back and do nothing while some guy terrorizes your girl.”

  “Guys like that,” Jamal shook his head as if he couldn’t finish the sentence. “I’ve met a few of them in my time. There’s nothing worse than people who start problems and then
cry foul when people bring it back to them. This guy has a pounding coming to him, but it can’t come from you, Blake. It’ll ruin your career. You’ll be no good to your girl broke and out of work. Focus on the fight, focus on winning. That’s how you get back at this creep. By winning.”

  Blake nodded. He knew Jamal was right. He needed to focus on himself and his relationship with Ivy. That was what mattered. Darryl was just a distraction and Blake was not going to let this guy get to him.

  He got a massage and took a shower and he felt tired but good as he drove home. He pulled into the driveway and rode the elevator up to his floor. He opened to door to a delicious smelling apartment. The lights were on, but low and there was music playing quietly in the background.

  “I’m home,” Blake called out.

  Ivy, wearing a very short pair of shorts and a strappy tank top, stepped out into the kitchen with a glass of wine in hand. “Welcome home,” she said with a smile, taking a sip of her drink.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ivy liked to cook. Blake only had a minimal amount of food in his pantry, but she had stopped on the way home to pick up ingredients for dinner: tortellini with a red sauce, Caesar salad and a nice bottle of red wine.

  “Pajamas already?” he asked, smiling down at her as she began putting the ingredients for the salad in a big bowl.

  “The first thing I do when I get home is change out of work clothes,” she said with a smile.

  “Well, my work clothes are gym shorts and sneakers, so comfort isn’t something I have to worry about.”

  Ivy raised a wooden spoon with pasta sauce to Blake’s lip and he tasted it. It was salty and robust and much better than whatever take-out he would have normally ordered. One of the benefits of training as hard as he did was the fact that Blake could eat anything and, in fact, needed to eat more than regular people to make up for all the calories he expended.

  He reached over Ivy and grabbed plates and cups from the cabinets before stacking them on the counter. It was really just an excuse to stand near her. He put his hands on her hips and nuzzled her neck. She turned her head and kissed him lightly. They plated their food and ate at the kitchen table, a place Blake normally used to store his gym bag.

  “This is good,” Blake said.

  “Thanks,” Ivy answered. Their food was done quickly and Ivy opened a second bottle of wine as they sat in his darkened apartment, the skyline of Seattle lit up the room with a pale glow.

  “So, what do you normally do on your nights?” Ivy asked him as she sipped her dark red wine.

  “Normally, I just watch TV and chill out. But you’re here, so it’s not a normal night,” Blake answered.

  “So what should we do?” Ivy asked.

  “Want to play a game?” Blake offered. He reached behind him and opened a drawer on his side table. He reached in and pulled out a deck of cards. He pulled them out of their container and shuffled them quickly. “Do you know how to play blackjack?”

  “Is that the game that goes to twenty-one?” She asked.

  “Yes,” he answered barely managing to stifle a scoff.

  “Let me guess,” Ivy said. “You’re good at blackjack?”

  “I’m not too bad,” Blake answered. In fact, playing cards was a bit of a hobby of his. He frequented tables in Vegas with five hundred dollar buy ins. He liked playing the tables. He liked the thrill of big pots; he was good at cards and good at reading the table. He was also good at recognizing when he was on a losing streak and he always got out before he got in over his head.

  He put one card face down in front of Ivy and one in front of himself. He dealt another card to Ivy, a three. He dealt a card to himself, an eight.

  “Hit me,” Ivy said, as he unfolded a king in front of her.

  He dealt a card to himself, a nine. “You know what makes this more fun?” Blake asked. “Strip blackjack.”

  “Really? And how does that work?” Ivy asked. The wine was causing her cheeks to flush and he knew they would be warm to the touch.

  “Loser has to lose an article of clothes, first person naked loses.”

  “Hit me,” Ivy said, looking him in the eye.

  He laid a six down on her cards. “I’ll stay,” he said and she stayed, as well. Blake flipped over Ivy’s card first. She had a king, a three, and a nine. “Bust,” Blake said, smiling at her. He flipped over his own cards, a nine, eight, and a two: nineteen. “I win,” he said, smiling as he gathered his cards.

  Ivy gave him a crooked smile and slipped her hands under her shirt. Using some bit of secret female magic, she removed her bra without taking off her shirt, holding it at arm’s length so Blake got a long look in as she finally dropped it onto his floor.

  He won the next round and she wiggled out of her short shorts. But then she beat him with an exact hand of twenty-one. He slipped his shirt over his hand threw it to the side. He lost the next round and his gym shorts paid the price. Then he won with seventeen and Ivy took her shirt off and she sat topless on the other side of the table.

  Her breasts were perky and her nipples were hard. Blake couldn’t resist and he reached over and stroked her breast with his hand running his thumb over her nipple. They were down to their underwear. Each one only had one piece of clothing left. It all came down to this.

  Blake dealt the hands and Ivy stopped when she had sixteen showing and Blake stopped at eighteen. Finally, he flipped over Ivy’s card showing she had a four: twenty. He dealt flipped over his hidden card, he had a ten.

  “I win,” Ivy said leaning back in her chair. “So strip,” she said. She settled back and sipped her wine as Blake stood up in front of her and dropped his boxer-briefs exposing his hard penis to the apartment. “Looks good,” Ivy said.

  Blake walked over to her and he tilted her head up and he placed a deep kiss on her wine-stained mouth.

  She kissed him back eagerly and desperately and he grabbed her arms and pulled her into a standing position and then lifted her up and set her down on the kitchen table. He spread her knees apart and settled between them. Ivy reached around Blake and felt the strong muscles of his back, going farther south to grab his firm ass.

  He pushed against her and she could feel the head of his erection pushing against the wet crotch of her panties. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he grabbed a handful of her hair and he pushed her head back to look down into her eyes before he began to kiss her again. His tongue slipped into her mouth and Ivy sighed as Blake's firm hands held her close.

  He stopped their kiss and, with a hand to the center of her chest, pushed her onto the table. He leaned down, hovering over her and kissed her breasts and the delicate skin between them. He licked and kissed her nipples while she gasped with an arched back under his attentions.

  Ivy wanted him. She wanted him all of time. His strong body and his confident hands were driving her wild. Why had she denied her feelings to Blake? Why had she been fighting this. She wanted to spend the rest of her life splayed out on this table, with Blake kissing her collarbone and making her writhe as he licked the nape of her neck.

  His fingers slid over her panties. She was already wet and she almost felt self-conscious about it, but then he was rubbing her through the fabric of her panties and she moved her hips and pressed herself harder against his hand and she forgot to be worried.

  “Blake,” Ivy moaned. She reached up and ran her hand down his firm chest. “I want you,” she whispered. Blake groaned and pushed himself against her and she could feel the heft of his erection against her. She wanted him so badly. She wanted to please him and be pleased by him. She was desperate for his touch. Her body ached for him. She raked his skin with her nails and she tried to pull him even closer to her. She never wanted to be separated from him again.

  Blake slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of her panties and slipped them easily between her wet folds. Ivy moaned and arched her back as his finger slid over her clit, slowly teasing her. “Do you like that?” Blake asked.

&nb
sp; “Yes,” Ivy cried out, balling up her fists. He was teasing her, building her to an orgasm more intense than anything she had ever experienced. She was breathing deeply and her body was writhing underneath him, but, to her dismay, his touch was getting lighter and slower. “Why?” was the only word she could say as his fingers finally stopped, pressing gently on her clit.

  “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispered. With that he swept up Ivy in his arms and she gave out a quiet squeal as she wrapped her arm around his neck. A man before had never held her like this; she simultaneously felt safe and strong in his arms. He could have done anything to her and she wouldn’t have stopped him. She trusted him and knew he would never hurt her.