Cruz

by H. J. Bellus

  I blow when I look up to his gorgeous face that’s scrunched up and covered in pleasure. The knowledge that I’m doing this to him sets me on fire. I yell out his name over and over again until I melt back onto the mat.

  “I win round two. You better up your game, baby.” He rolls us over so fast I’m forced to use my one good hand on his chest to stabilize myself.

  “Oh really?” I ask with raised eyebrows.

  “Better get your guard up.”

  “You’re the one that has to burn calories,” I counter.

  His large hands dig into each side of my hips raising me a bit but not breaking our connection. Before I have the chance to ask questions, he begins pumping up into me. I lick my lips, watching his abs flex as he moves in me. The angle is surreal, hitting points inside me that I’m certain have never been touched. And just like that he’s about to set me off again into a screaming mess.

  “Jesus,” I whisper.

  “Winning round two again.” He smirks with a tilted grin.

  I open my mouth to protest, but he pushes into me again, causing me to fall over the edge and lose all common sense. I’d slump down on him, but Cruz has me held up above him. He’s still pumping inside of me causing me to lose my mind.

  “You are something else.” My words are breathy, and it takes all my energy to get them out.

  “I am the champ.” He winks at me.

  I slap his chest and decide if I’m going to win a round then I better get down and get busy. I begin to slowly roll my hips, wondering how in the hell I’ve orgasmed three times and am ready for more. I don’t think my body has it in me for another one, but the feeling of being connected is surreal.

  Cruz surprises me with gentle, sweet pecks on the lips and lies right back down. He repeats the action over and over until he’s probably done at least fifty sit-ups. Each time he kisses me I’m settled deeper in him until I feel that build up again.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” I push him back down on his back. “I’m winning this round.”

  My palms splay out over his pecs. I begin to move faster and harder until Cruz is biting down on his bottom lip. I know he’s close and I won’t stop.

  I change the angle and that’s when I feel him throb inside me. His hands dig into my sides, then he begins a low set of grunts right before he spills into me. Cruz’s entire body molds and melts back into the mat.

  “Unanimous decision.” I wink at him. “Layla the laying terminator wins.”

  Cruz flops his forearm over his eyes, shaking his head.

  “Too soon?” I lean down to kiss the tip of his chin. “Too much cheese factor?”

  He doesn’t move his arm when he speaks but manages to catch my mouth with his when he’s done talking. “You are too much.”

  We spend the rest of the night in the gym. I see a side of Cruz I’ve never witnessed before. I know he’s a champion and what it takes to make one, but this is the first time watching him in his element. After we clean up in the locker room, Cruz suits up in layers of clothes and hits the treadmill then the punching bags.

  I try to work, tying up loose ends for the fight. Tomorrow is the weigh-in, which means the media will swarm the gym, building buzz for fight night. I don’t get much done since Cruz is one fine-ass distraction.

  His body is a machine. My own body is aching in a delicious way from that machine devouring me. I try to focus back on the paperwork, finishing up by printing the ticket count for the fight.

  “Babe.”

  “Yeah.” I look up to an exhausted and very sweaty Cruz.

  “Come here.”

  I go to argue as I would with anyone else, but there’s something about the beads of sweat dribbling off his forehead. When I’m within a few steps of him, he reaches out with stealth, grabbing me by the throat and pinning me to him. My back presses into his damp chest and his hand covers my throat.

  “Now what?” he asks.

  “Grab your dick?” I ask.

  “Wrong.” In a flash, he contains both of my hands in his one large palm, my cast no obstacle for him.

  “Dick grabs always win, though.”

  “Layla, I’m the enemy and ready to hurt you.” He lowers his mouth to my ear. “What the fuck are you going to do?”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Cruz. You have a fight the day after tomorrow.”

  “Do it,” he growls.

  “No.”

  “Fucking do it. I want to see it.”

  “No one is going to hurt me.”

  “Then prove it, Layla.”

  This is about Ash and the upcoming fight. He’s concerned about my safety, having Titan’s Tribe in our gym.

  I pause for a moment, not wanting to go through with this.

  “Can I explain it to you, Cruz?”

  His hand tightens around my throat cutting off my air, and I take that as a no. I drop my head until my chin is rested on my chest then rear back as hard as I can until I connect with his face. I feel his grip loosen and send my elbow back into his ribs, forcing him to step back enough for me to whirl around.

  Cruz hunches over but recovers quickly.

  “I’d kick you in the nuts then run.”

  He covers his crotch then nods to me.

  “Did I pass?” I ask, stepping up to him and rubbing the pads of my fingers over the swollen skin under his eye.

  “Yes.” He pulls me into him. “I still could teach you a few things.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “At least the fucker in the ring won’t get the first shot on me now. I’ll be going in looking like a badass.”

  “A stinky badass.” I wrinkle my nose.

  “Let’s go home and shower.” He squeezes my ass cheeks.

  I flip the light switch while Cruz holds open the door for me, then we walk hand in hand to his apartment.

  Shower, bed, and cuddling up to Cruz is the perfect ending to a perfect day in my new life.

  Chapter 15

  Cruz

  I haven’t slept this well since my dad died. Sleep had become the enemy until I met her. Layla’s long and wild dark hair splays across my chest with her petite body pressed up to mine. I roll over a tick so her tits press into my chest.

  I find myself kissing the top of her head and holding her tight to me. Her power the other night in the gym shocked me. Boss has done a damn fine job training her. Something is brewing with the Titan’s gym. Boss’ one rule is no fighting outside the gym or ring…ever.

  I’d never disrespect the guy after what he’s done to save my ass when my father died. They were old friends. He didn’t blink an eye when I reached out for help. It was almost fucking impossible to not knock Ash on his ass yesterday at the weigh-in. When the fucker went on about dining on Layla’s fine pussy, I had to muster up all new kinds of self-restraint. Of course, Ash would be shit talking me even though we aren’t fighting. I hope to get that motherfucker in Vegas.

  It was Jag who pulled me off before I had the opportunity to strike. It was the warning to stay away from Layla that pissed me off. Those fuckers are up to something. Boss and Layla are my family now. I’ll do anything to protect them. Fucking life has taught me always to protect the ones you love.

  I growl, clutching Layla closer with that one word floating through my mind…love.

  “Mmmmm,” Layla moans, nuzzling closer to me. “Did you just growl?”

  I run my cheek against the top of her head. “Sorry, baby. Go back to sleep.”

  “I’m so tired. Need sleepy time.”

  Holding her tight, I wait until her breathing is steady and even again. I love her. It hits me hard and all at once. I’m in fucking love with this fiery, Spanish, bossy woman.

  My phone vibrates on the nightstand, pulling me from my thoughts. I slide open the home screen and this time I hold back the growl to not wake Layla.

  FUCK.

  The other woman in my life and right now I can’t handle this shit. It needs to be dealt with, and I have no fuc
king clue how to go about it. It’s dark and dangerous, but as I said, loved ones in my life will always be protected no matter if it’s emotional or physical pain. I slide from the bed, pissed at the loss of the skin-to-skin touch with Layla.

  I wait until I’m out in my tiny kitchen and begin to prepare my oats and protein shake for fight day. I relax back on the counter, crossing my ankles, and reply to the text. The other woman in my life is hurting, and I can’t take away the pain no matter how hard I try. Now with current developments, I’m not sure I even have the place to help her.

  The microwave beeps and the blender is done mixing; however, the hollow feeling in my stomach doesn’t crave any food at all. I need the energy for the fight and a clear head, but how in the hell do I do that when she’s in danger and I’m not there to protect her? If he harms a hair on her head, then I’ll kill him because I love her too.

  My fist slams down on the counter realizing I won’t be able to return to her for at least three weeks. I’ll find the time.

  “Hey.”

  I feel arms wrap around me from the back, then her sweet strawberry scent assaults me. Just a simple reminder of another woman I have to protect.

  “You okay?” she asks, nuzzling her cheek into my back.

  It’s not until then I realize I’m tense with fear and fucking anger. I’m sick of this life and all the damn secrets haunting me. Layla stormed into my life making it feel a bit normal, but then all the secrets build up to destroy it.

  “I’m good,” I finally admit.

  I hate lying to her. Of all people, I’m forced to lie to the woman I’m in love with. She’s been through hell and is halfway back. There’s no way in hell I’ll put her through more. She doesn’t need to know any of this shit. It’s wrong and makes me a shitty person, but I don’t fucking care.

  “Breakfast of champions.” I turn in her arms, wiggling my chocolate shake in front of her.

  Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Good luck with that, champ.”

  I tease her by putting the cup to the edge of her lips, and just like when I tested out her self-defense skills, she’s quick to evade danger.

  “Pop-Tarts?” she asks, gripping the edge of her shirt.

  “You’re evil.”

  “I’ll show you boobies for Pop-Tarts.” She inches her shirt up her torso.

  Her tan skin comes into view. Her belly button taunts me, then the underswell of her tits comes into view. I grip the cup so tight it could shatter any second now.

  “I’ll let you lick them for a strawberry Pop-Tart.” She pulls my gym t-shirt up above her tits, exposing them to me.

  I point to the cupboard that hoards all my junk food. I visit it rarely but never eat out of it. In fact, I prided myself on my strict diet until this little vixen came into my life.

  Layla queues up a song on my iPod that’s docked on a small speaker before she bounds over to the cupboard, letting the door fly open. “Pop-Tarts, Oreos, and Swedish Fish, oh my!”

  “Fuck,” I growl when her lacy pink thong comes into view hugging her juicy ass.

  Suddenly, my appetite is back full force. My cock hardens to a painful point. It hurts, and it hurts so fucking good. I study her ass as she remains bent over analyzing the contents of the junk cabinet.

  Layla shakes her ass side to side as she makes her choice. The little shit is taunting me with her amazing body.

  “I’m supposed to relax today,” I grunt out.

  “Oh.” She doesn’t turn around to see me but keeps her hips swaying back and forth.

  I’m moving toward her before I know it. My hands grip the sides of her hips, steadying her. I rub my hard dick on her ass. She purrs automatically then pushes back, making me nearly blow my load like a teenage asshole.

  The thin material of my boxers does nothing to hide my need for her. I continue to roll my hips into her ass, wanting like fuck to take her right here like this. Then “No Diggity” by Blackstreet and Dr. Dre begins streaming through the kitchen.

  I find the beat easy with my hips, rolling them into Layla’s perfect ass. My grip tightens, needing more of her.

  “Found it.” Layla stands up.

  I pull her back to my chest, grinding on her to the song. My hands snake around to her front until they’re sneaking under her sexy as fuck thong.

  “Mmmm.” I bite down on her earlobe. “My girl is wet.”

  “It’s the Pop-Tart,” she whispers. “So good.”

  “Liar.” I lick the lobe of her ear then let two fingers sink into her.

  As soon as they seep in her wetness, I pull them out.

  “Hey.” She whirls around in my arms mid-bite. “Why did you stop?”

  I shrug. “Thought I’d let you enjoy that orgasmic Pop-Tart.”

  “Cruz,” she whines, sticking out her bottom lip.

  Godddamit, she’s fucking gorgeous and irresistible. I swear she fixes everything in my fucked-up world. Layla makes me want to forget everything and drown in her. It’s not healthy, but it’s what I want. I can’t stop the vortex I’m being pulled down into.

  The smile on my face is shattering when I grab her by the waist and lift her up on the counter. Layla squeals and continues to eat her Pop-Tart, crumbs toppling down onto her chest.

  “Titties,” I demand.

  She responds by sneaking up her shirt until her perked nipples come into view. I watch in amazement when she lets crumbs fall down onto her.

  “Pop-Tart for a lick?” she asks, cocking her to the side as she widens her bare legs.

  I raise both eyebrows and continue to dance for a little bit, inching my way to her. I sneak a hand down the front of my boxers, gripping my dick. This gets a light moan from Layla. She’s enjoying this little show I’m putting on, so I continue to grind the air while stroking my dick under my boxers.

  “So good,” she moans while trailing a hand down her abdomen then down to her covered center all the while still enjoying her breakfast.

  “No touching, Layla.” I advance forward still swaying to the song.

  I take one nipple into my mouth, devouring it while playing with the other one. I swirl my tongue around and around enjoying her sweet taste. Layla bucks up into me fighting to get traction, but I lean back each time she tries to grind into my abdomen.

  I switch to the other nipple, licking, biting, and sucking until Layla has both of her hands in my hair pulling and tugging on it. The nearly finished Pop-Tart tumbles down her stomach and smashes between us.

  “Fuck me, Cruz.” She pulls my head up to look at her. “Fuck me now.”

  “Please?” I quirk a brow.

  “Fuck me now, please.” She brings her face to mine and kisses me quickly. “Fuck me to the song you come out to.”

  “Jesus, you’re going to make me blow my load.”

  “Is that song on your iPod? Put it on and fuck me,” she continues to beg.

  “It’s fight day, babe. I should be laid out on my back while you take care of me.”

  “Now, Cruz!” Her nails bite into the top of my shoulders.

  A deep chuckle escapes me before I turn back to the iPod and find the song. When I face Layla again, she’s wiggled out of her thong and is spread for me.

  “I need a taste.” I leap forward.

  “Dammit, when that song begins you better fuck me.”

  I have a few moments left before it plays next and I damn well plan to make good use of it. I don’t need sugar or any sweets the rest of my days with this in my life. I swirl my tongue around her clit, lapping up all her juices until Layla is screaming and tugging on my hair.

  There’s a slight moment of silence as the songs change, then I smile across her folds when I hear the first beat of the song that fuels me to fight.

  “Fucking sexy,” she whispers.

  I rise, grabbing her ass, pulling her to me. Her fingers slide down my boxers, and I step out of them the rest of the way. My dick is eager, finding her opening easily. Layla pushes down on me.

  “This
is a favorite song of mine.”

  “Nice.” I bite the nape of her neck.

  “And now I’m about to get fucked by a champion to it.”

  “First thing first.” I squeeze her ass cheeks, singing the opening line to “Believer” by Imagine Dragons.

  I stand up with her legs wrapped around my waist and her pussy gripping my dick like a vise. Layla bounces up and down on my dick, matching each of my thrusts. The energy in the kitchen is overwhelming. This girl and my song are filling me like I never knew possible.

  “Are you close?” I grit out between clenched teeth.

  “Almost. God, so close,” she says between breaths. “Help me. God, so close.”

  The song isn’t even halfway done, and we’re both unraveling together, our appetites for one another voracious.

  I lean down, following her instructions while keeping our rhythm and find one of her nipples. My teeth sink down hard on the sensitive part. It does the trick. Layla tightens around me like a vise, milking my dick.

  My vision begins to blur with the bone-chilling tingle racing up my spine.

  “Condom,” I rasp out.

  “Shit.” The one word breathy and still full of need.

  Carefully, I place Layla back on the counter, missing the feeling of her riding my dick. I grip the base with my hand, stroking it. Fuck, I’ll come all over the kitchen floor right now because I’m too far gone. She’s quick, hopping off the counter and sinking to her knees. Her lips wrap around my cock. I swear she’s mid-bob and I explode. My hands wrap in her hair, tugging on it and forcing her to go deeper as my seed coats the back of her throat.

  Once I can think straight, I pull Layla up into my arms and set her back on the counter. I slump over her fighting to catch my breath. The song ends and another one starts, but I focus on Layla who’s clutched to me, trying to control her breathing as well.

  “That was a first,” I whisper into her neck.

  “Shit.” Her arms wrap tighter around me. “Those were good Pop-Tarts.”

  I pinch her side and feel her squirm under me. “You’re an asshole.”

  Layla sits up and leans back until we are face to face. I feel her legs wrap around me, hooking right above my bare ass. The warmth of her palms cupping my face makes my fucking world perfect. I drop my forehead to hers and let my eyes shut. I should be freaking the fuck out about forgetting a condom, but the thought doesn’t scare me as it should.