Dirty Fighter: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

by Roxy Sinclaire

  "Babes, get outta your head."

  "What?" I say and then he kisses me again.

  This time it starts soft but—how can I describe it? How can something be soft but rough at the same time? Slow but demanding. Insistent. Gentle but with a wave of violent longing just underneath the surface?

  It hits me that maybe I'm not just describing Gray.

  Is this how I feel? Is this what's going on inside of me?

  His lips press onto mine, and I can't help but open to him. I part my lips, just slightly—but it's enough. He slides his tongue inside me, just a bit, just a taste.

  I moan. I want more.

  When I make that sound, he growls back. God, we've barely touched and I feel like an animal already. We skipped right over words into growls, sighs, heavy breathing. Maybe this is what he meant by getting out of my head. Because I'm definitely not thinking right now. I'm just feeling, existing. He's warm and big and cradling me. My body is suddenly alive. I kiss him back, fiercely; we're at turns sweet and slow, then violent and hard. Like I can't press enough into him; like he can't touch enough of me.

  I could kiss him forever.

  He's so tall, so broad. I have to lean back like I'm looking up at the sky, just to meet his lips. He moves and one large hand cradles the back of my head, supporting me…and drawing me closer. His other arm wraps around my middle, and I realize he's angling me closer, pulling me into him, pushing deeper into me.

  And he's hard. Oh my God, he's hard everywhere. I can feel his hard-on pushing into my stomach, but instead of recoiling, I like it. I move closer. It's huge and terrifying and also awe-inspiring. Did I cause this? Does he get this way for everyone, or just for me?

  What would he say if he knew I'd never really dated? That I'm more familiar with my vibrator than any man?

  It doesn't matter. I'll never tell him. One month, two tops, and I'm out of here. I'll be the ghost now, just like Gray was for the past seven years… Then he lifts me up in his arms and I wrap my legs around his waist and my words, my thoughts, are gone like smoke. I grasp his shoulders, his arms. The silk of his suit slides under my fingers, but I make a fist and hang on. He must like that, because he growls again, and the sound resonates in my chest, my head, between my legs.

  There are people talking outside, somewhere down on the street. Laughter, shouting, a car horn blaring. But none of it exists, not here.

  In fact, my shitty apartment is disappearing.

  All I can feel is my body moving, writhing, contained in his arms. Trapped, and loving it. His tongue invades my mouth. His large, capable hands are cupping my ass, moving me closer, lifting me up and down so I ride the behemoth I feel between my legs. I press against it, suddenly wanting heat and pressure and friction between my legs. I moan into his mouth when I grind down on his ridiculously hard cock. But it feels so good. I move my hips faster, I bite him like he bit me—

  Gray pulls back suddenly, his chest heaving, his molten eyes staring at me.

  He looks shocked.

  Aroused.

  There's color on his cheeks, and I realize his dark blonde hair looks like he's just been wrestling with a woman between the sheets…

  And that woman is me.

  And then it hits me what we're doing. We're one inch away from my bed and I want him to throw me down on it. I want—if I'm honest with myself—I want everything. I want him to pull my jeans off, part my legs, bury himself inside me like I've imagined it over the years.

  But what happens if I let him in? It won't just be sex. I'm already half in love with him as it is—or, half in love with a ghost.

  I have no idea who this man is. I have no idea what he does, or why he married me.

  All I know is he was forced into it and it's just a sham. I can't let myself lose control, because if we become intimate, if we act like husband and wife, once this ends I'll never get over it.

  "Stop," I gasp. I put my hand over my wildly beating heart.

  Click HERE to continue reading Shotgun Wedding.

  Excerpt from Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  It had been three days since my world started to spin that night in the bar. I kept blaming it on the alcohol but in my heart, I knew it was a lie. Since then, I had done everything in my power to stay busy and avoid Desmond. I didn’t want to become another notch on his belt. Plus, no one would take me seriously for the next few weeks if I slept with my boss.

  I needed to keep my head in the game and steer clear of him and any chance of complications. Each time that I saw him, I repeated to myself, “I’m here for my shop,” over and over again in my head until I was able to calm down my burning desire for him.

  Today was no different, between each press release he would come in to see how the new improvements were coming. Each time he came in, he seemed more determined than the last to pull my attention away from the car.

  I was starting to lose my battle of wills against him. I wanted to spend time with him, but I wouldn’t risk my reputation to do so. As the shop door opened, I braced myself for another round of banter.

  “Can I help you?” I said in a friendly tone when the man who walked in wasn’t Desmond.

  The man grinned, “I bet you can. I just came to meet this famous mechanic Desmond has.”

  I smiled, “You must be looking for someone else then, I’m just doing my job.” I said politely.

  I knew who he was, he was Luke Chambers. I also knew that Desmond despised him above all other racers. He was attractive, but not like Desmond.

  “I don’t think so,” he said politely, “I believe you are more than what I have been looking for.”

  “Boy, you know how to charm a girl, don’t you?” I asked playfully.

  He smiled, “I wouldn’t know a thing about that. I just call it as I see it; beautiful, smart, and talented. Desmond is a lucky man.”

  “I’m just doing my job, but thank you,” I replied.

  “That’s a shame, if I had you on my team, I would treat you like a queen,” he cooed.

  My senses were tingling, “He treats me just fine, thanks. Is there something I can help you with?”

  My temper was starting to show. I didn’t like Luke being in the shop or around the car. He seemed a little too interested in me and my skills for my liking.

  “Oh now, there’s no need to get upset. You never know, after this race there might be a future for us,” he said slyly. “Professionally, of course.”

  I didn’t believe that he meant only professionally, and in any case, I didn’t want anything to do with him in either way.

  “Sorry, but I have my own shop,” I replied as I started working on the car again.

  I could see how interested he was in what I was doing, but I also knew that he wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening for the most part. He didn’t strike me as they type to work on his own cars or even to know how they were running. When the door to the shop opened for the second time, I looked up and let out a sigh of relief. Desmond was back, and he looked angry.

  “What the hell are you doing in here Chambers,” he said, without even looking at me.

  Luke smiled, “Now Desmond, I was just coming to meet the mechanic that I have heard so much about. No harm in that.”

  “With you, there’s always some harm,” replied Desmond, glaring at the man.

  “Now, that’s not very good sportsmanship Desmond, I was just paying a little professional visit, for now,” replied Luke with a wink to me.

  I could see the anger building up inside of Desmond and knew that this wasn’t going to go anywhere good.

  “I don’t think that drivers are allowed to be in the competition’s tents Luke, you should go,” I interjected, hoping to avoid bloodshed.

  He smiled at me again, “You’re right. I should go. Hopefully though, I will see you around after the race Amber. I would love to spend some time with you, professionally, of course.”

  Luke turned and headed for the door before I could reply and tell h
im I wanted nothing to do with him. One look at Desmond though, and I knew that it wouldn’t have done me any good. He was jealous, and it was a little flattering to me.

  I couldn’t stop myself from smiling a little bit. I wondered how often a handsome man like Desmond got jealous over women. No doubt, when he hooked on, they stayed by his side for as long as he wanted.

  “Desmond, he was just saying hello,” I said, hiding my grin.

  “Bullshit, he was up to no good. I didn’t like the way he looked at Theresa,” he muttered.

  “Oh. You didn’t like the way he looked at your car, huh?” I asked him, a little surprised at his response. I knew that there was more to it.

  “Yeah, that among other things,” he replied.

  I could see him starting to get nervous, and I couldn’t help but goad him a little bit. It was too funny not to.

  “Sir, are you getting jealous that another racer was talking to me? I didn’t realize one little old mechanic was so important to you.” I said with a smile.

  He looked at me but then quickly looked away, clearing his throat, “I just know Luke, if he was in here, he was up to no good. He is a dirty racer. I know that he tried to sabotage my car last time and this time he will do it again. He thought that he could get in here and mess something up with José out of the way. I just hope that you are as good at seeing through his crap as José was.”

  I noticed that he didn’t deny being jealous, but I couldn’t help but be a little bit offended by him. “You don’t think I’m smart enough to know he was trying to do something?”

  Desmond looked at me, “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry.”

  I smiled at him, “It’s okay.”

  “It’s just, Luke gets under my skin. He’s just an all-around bad guy,” said Desmond.

  “I sort of got that vibe from you earlier. Do you think he will try to come back? Knowing it’s against the rules?” I asked him.

  Desmond nodded his head, “He doesn’t give up credence to rules. If he does come back, tell him to leave right away. If he even so much as sets foot near you or Theresa, call the race police in here. I won’t have him near anything of mine.”

  I raised an eyebrow. I knew that he was talking about Theresa, but I also got the feeling that he meant more than just the car. I wasn’t sure if I was okay with that or not but I had to admit that his words sent a chill down my spine.

  I couldn’t help but let my mind wander; thinking about what it would feel like to be owned by Desmond Keys. To feel his body, naked, underneath me. I shuddered before shaking my head, bringing myself back to reality.

  “Right,” I said, clearing my throat, “I will make sure he doesn’t come back. I think I should go over the car now. I didn’t pay attention to him while he was in here, he could have done something without me noticing.”

  Desmond looked angry all over again as he spoke, “I think I will stick around and help you. If that’s okay?”

  I smiled, “It’s your car remember?”

  “We are running out of time, the next leg starts in a few hours.” he said.

  “Right,” I replied, now I was in the zone to get started on checking the car over.

  With Desmond at my side, we began to comb over every inch of Theresa. I was surprised when I realized that he had a lot more knowledge about cars than he had originally let on. As we worked, we talked, and he told me about how he and José first met and how much the older man had taught him.

  When I asked about his family and parents though, he shut down on me. After several minutes of awkward silence, they called for the racers to head to the starting line.

  “I haven’t come across anything, have you?” I asked him, hoping the race would pull him out of the bad temper he now seemed consumed by.

  He shook his head, “No. All I can do is hope that he was just in here to hit on you.”

  I flinched, “Listen, Desmond, about your parents.”

  He shook his head, “No, don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. Look, it’s a long story and one that I would love to share with you. Right now, though, I have a race to win. Maybe we could pick this up over dinner later?”

  I gazed into his eyes, unsure of how to answer. I didn’t know if it was a good idea to have dinner with Desmond. For all I knew, it was just a ploy to get me into bed. He had one hell of a reputation to go up against and I wasn’t sure I wanted to gamble like that just to find out. Looking at him, in that moment though, something was different. My heart told me that he didn’t want to hurt me, that maybe I really was different.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  His entire face came to life as he smiled at my answer. They made the final call for all racers, and his celebration was cut short as he jumped behind the wheel of Theresa. Shooting me a smile, he fired her up and headed out of the garage. My heart was pounding in my ears from the thrill of the upcoming race and now the pending date with Desmond. Things seemed like they were looking up.

  My only hope, as I made my way out to the viewing area, was that I hadn’t been wrong about Luke. Maybe he had just run out of time to sabotage the car. Either way, I was grateful that he hadn’t had the chance to ruin anything, yet.

  Next time I would make sure to be more careful when he came into the shop. Something told me that he would try again, I hadn’t seen the last of Luke, and I prayed that next time I would be ready for him. As Glen called out the start of the race, I silently crossed my fingers for another victory.

  Click HERE to continue reading Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  Excerpt from Tempting Me: A Bad Boy Romance

  “I’m a Yoga instructor”

  I didn’t ask her what she did, but I’m glad she shared. I was on the fence about going home with her. But now that I know she spends her days working on her body and training it to stretch in weird and wonderful ways, I am sold.

  Whiskey alone isn’t cutting it after a day like today. An evening of fun with a limber and eager blonde is exactly what I need to get back on my game. I close out the tab and lead her out onto the street. These kinds of after hours’ bars exist for hook-ups.

  “Is your place close?” I ask.

  “Just three blocks from here.”

  “Great; we’ll walk.”

  This hook-up is just what the doctor ordered. Not just because I’m not my usual charming self when I don’t get laid everyday but because I need to get that smoking brunette out of my head, and the best way I know to shake trouble is to have a bout of no holds-barred sex with a hot woman who is ready, willing, and able.

  Yoga girl is all of the above. And it doesn’t matter that I can’t remember her name as long as it isn’t Aria.

  The night air feels good and she’s up for walking, which I’m thankful for. I like a clear head both in myself, and the woman I’m going to have sex with. She lives in a walk-up that is, in fact, exactly three blocks from the bar. She is all over me the moment we enter the stairwell. She strokes my growing erection over my jeans, with almost too much enthusiasm.

  “Whoa there, let’s slow this down,” I tell her.

  The stairwell is damp and smells rank. I can hear the infamous New York rats scurrying across the cement landing we are on. I hope the state of the stairs is not a sign of things to come in her apartment.

  “I don’t want to slow down,” she whines but she does, nonetheless, take her hand off my crotch.

  We arrive at her door and she starts pawing at me again. I resist the urge to push her off of me. I may have been premature in believing this is what I need tonight. But I’m here, and she’s hot for me. It would be a shame to let the whole evening go to waste.

  “Ooh, your muscles are so big,” she coos in my ear.

  If I had a dollar for every time a girl told me that, I wouldn’t need to strip anymore.

  “That’s right baby. Open the door and you can feel them for yourself.”

  I really want to get out of the hallway and into her apartment. This
building is like something from a novel, documenting the plight of immigrants in the 1940s.

  She doesn’t turn any lights on but leads me straight to her bedroom. In one swift movement, her little black dress is off and on the floor. She has nothing on underneath and I am at full attention.

  “What’s taking you so long?” She makes a move for my jeans.

  “Take it easy, baby.” Did she ever tell me her name?

  She crawls up onto the bed and faces me. She crosses her arms under her jutting breasts and props them up high to emphasize her cleavage.

  “Don’t make me wait anymore,” she pouts.

  I want her to stop talking, but I get her point. I don’t want to wait anymore either.

  I join her on the bed and gently push her on to her back. I start at her high perky breasts and slowly explore my way down her flat stomach. She writhes and moans with abandon beneath me.

  “Go down on me, go down on me. I need to come.”

  This girl is ripe for the picking, but I’m not even close to ready to bring her to climax. I slow my route to her slit, and cup her breasts. Her nipples are as hard and peaked as the Himalayas and I pinch them with just enough pressure to make her yelp for more. She flings one of her long toned legs behind her head and rubs her wet pussy against my chest. With such easy access being granted, I have no choice but to go down and give her the release she has been begging for. She moans and yells so loud, I fear a neighbor will call the police. I hold her leg in place behind her head and roll on a condom with one hand and then thrust into her.

  I feel my own release coming and with it, my misgivings over the exchange with Aria begin disappearing. What does it matter in the end? I will never see her again and under no circumstances will I ever open myself up like that to another woman.

  I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding a staccato drumbeat against my ribs. I had that damn recurring dream again. Correct that; I had that damn recurring nightmare again. It’s always the same. I wake up in the dingy small bedroom of my youth; the twin bed, film and band posters on the wall, stained ceiling. My mom and dad’s trailer, the only home I knew for the first seventeen years of my life. In the nightmare, I am right back there and the last five years have all been a fantasy. I’m still pale, skinny, broke, and most of all, clueless about girls.