Trigger: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance

by Simone Scarlet MMA

  Shit, I’d known Travis Oates his whole life. I’d held his hand when his momma died. I’d bailed him out of jail when he was caught ‘borrowing’ Walt’s truck at 17. I honestly thought I’d seen this tall, beautiful man at every one of his worst and weakest moments.

  But not like this.

  “C’mon,” I reached up, and placed my palm against his cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We can worry about this later.”

  And then I took Travis’ big hand and I led him to his dad’s truck.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Travis

  “C’mon, Roxy,” I growled, as I sunk into the passenger seat of my dad’s truck. “You should let me drive. I’ve had the same amount to drink as you have.”

  Roxy snorted, as she gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

  “It’s not the liquor I’m worried about, sugar,” she purred. “It’s the blows to the head.”

  And, I had to admit, she wasn’t entirely without reason. The big, bastard Roy had only caught me a couple of times with his sledgehammer-like fists – but my head was still ringing like the Liberty Bell.

  I rubbed my head and looked out of the window of the old Chevy. That was when I noticed we weren’t rolling back towards Quintana, and my dad’s trailer. Instead, we were headed into town.

  As if reading my mind, Roxy explained: “I’ve got a shower, a six pack and a first aid kit back at mine.” She snorted dryly. “I don’t reckon Walt has any of those.”

  And that was true enough. The shower in the old doublewide spat out barely more than a dribble these days, and his fridge was empty apart from the groceries I’d bought that morning.

  “I know you’re worried about stayin’ out past curfew,” Roxy laughed, “but once you get cleaned up, you can drop me off and my truck and sneak back home.”

  I laughed, and settled back into the passenger seat. It had been at least a decade since the last time I’d had a curfew – and as Roxy knew from experience, I’d never been exactly diligent about sticking to it even back then.

  We drove the next couple of miles in companionable silence – through the dark and empty streets of Freeport.

  The place looked dead at this time of night – and perhaps it was. Even as we reached the residential neighborhoods, to the north of town, we drove past a half dozen boarded up houses, or places with ‘For Sale’ signs outside.

  Finally, Roxy turned the truck onto a pot-holed boulevard with an old, faded bungalow at the end of it.

  This was her place. Or, rather, it had been her dad’s when he’d still been alive. The faded flag flying from the porch, and the rusting Mustang on the driveway, were reminders of the man who’d lived there all those years ago; as much a father to me as Walt had been.

  Roxy pulled the truck to a halt on the cracked and crumbling driveway, and cut the engine.

  She turned in her seat: “You okay, sugar?”

  “Sure,” I groaned.

  But, the truth be told, I was starting to feel the punishment now. The whiskey was out of my system, and so was the adrenalin. Roy’s massive fists had left their mark – and as I struggled out of the seat onto the driveway, my back creaked in protest.

  Roxy led the way to the front door, and jangled her keys as she opened it. I limped along behind, one hand on the small of my back.

  Fuck.

  As I stepped into the darkness of the living room, I was suddenly bombarded with a tidal wave of memories. The ratty old couch, on the scuffed up carpet. The black and white photos of the U.S.S. America, and other naval memorabilia, still hanging on the walls.

  Even the smell of the place was the same. Even four years after his death, the whiff of Roxy’s dad’s Parliament cigarettes clung to everything.

  True to character, I said something dumb about it.

  “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

  And, like that, Roxy turned and placed her hands on her ample hips.

  “A guy looking for a drink and a band aid might want to lay off the sarcasm,” she growled. Then, a little less aggressively, she admitted: “What did you expect me to do? Put in hardwood floors and sconces?”

  As she led the way into the kitchen, Roxy admitted: “The realtor doesn’t think anything I could do to this place would up the value. It’s a shitbox ranch, in a shitbox neighborhood, in a shitbox town.”

  She sighed, standing in front of the rattling old GE Admiral fridge. As she hefted open the door, she admitted: “Didn’t seem much point in sprucing up the place.”

  That shut me the fuck up.

  In fact, I stood there in silence as Roxy popped the top of a bottle of Shiner Bock, and handed it to me.

  Four years she’d been here, since her dad had died. Four years looking at the same walls, and the same dated carpet. Shit, the lazy boy in the corner still had her dad’s ass print in the middle of the cushion.

  This place must be like fucking purgatory for her.

  Roxy popped the top of her own bottle, and gulped down three long drafts gratefully. Then, with foam on her top lip, she looked up and me and asked: “Shall I patch you up?”

  Grabbing my wrist, Roxy led me into the old bathroom.

  As far as bathrooms went – especially compared to the closet my dad and our shared at his trailer – this one was pretty big. But it was also pretty dated; with pastel green tiles, terracotta floor tiles and a shower curtain with yellow rubber ducks all over it.

  Roxy opened up the cabinet above the sink, and pulled out a jumbo bottle of Aspirin and a first aid kit.

  I swallowed a fistful of pills, and washed them down with a mouthful of beer. Then, with a groan, I reached over my head for the back of my t-shirt, and yanked the tight material off.

  I heard Roxy gasp as I did so.

  I hadn’t really felt self-concious about it until that point. What with practice, and the fights, and the photoshoots, I seemed to spend half my life with my shirt off.

  But out in public, it’s different.

  In the intimacy of a small bathroom, with two people who’d lost their virginities to each other – a lifetime ago, it seemed – there was suddenly a different vibe to it.

  Roxy stood there, and gulped – and I could tell she was looking me up and down.

  She’d caught a glimpse at the fight earlier, but this is the first time she’d seen me without my shirt on in as long as either of us could remember – and part of me was happy it clearly had an effect on her.

  “S-sit down on the edge of the tub,” she gulped dryly, shaking her head to try and distract herself. “L-let me get a look at you.”

  And she did – and that was when it was my turn to get distracted.

  As I sat on the edge of the old enamel tub, Roxy stepped forward to examine the wound above my eye. One of her legs slid between my knees – and her cleavage was practically level with my face.

  It was my turn to feel my mouth go dry, and my stomach churn. In front of me – covered by nothing more than the thin cotton of her tank-top – were Roxy’s magnificent breasts.

  “It doesn’t look too bad,” Roxy mused, as she obliviously smeared Bactine over the welt above my eye.

  “You should see it from this angle,” I snorted, staring into the cavernous valley of her breasts.

  Roxy looked down, and saw exactly where my eyes were fixated. And she didn’t make any effort to move.

  “It’s not like you haven’t seen them before,” she smirked, twisting the cap back on the ointment. “In fact, you’ve seen a whole lot more of them.”

  “That seems like forever ago,” I admitted, reluctantly switching my gaze from her breasts, towards her eyes. “A lifetime.”

  Roxy looked down at me, and the corner of her mouth lifted.

  “They were here waitin’ the whole time,” she admitted, “if you’d ever really wanted them.”

  Roxy’s mouth opened, as if to say something else scathing – but I preempted her. Grabbing her wrist, I hauled Roxy down and she landed in my lap with
a squeak – her face now level with mine.

  “Why, Travis,” Roxy snarled at me – from anger or excitement, I wasn’t sure. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Somethin’ I’ve been thinking of doing since the moment I first saw you again,” I told her – and leaned in to press my lips against hers.

  They never got that far.

  Suddenly, I found her finger pressed against my lips – more of a yellow light than a red one, but I still listened to the traffic signal.

  “Travis,” Roxy demanded, “are you sure this is smart?”

  I snorted.

  “Honey, I ain’t exactly been batting a thousand when it comes to making smart decisions recently,” I admitted. “But don’t lie. This feels right.”

  “This feels…” Roxy bit her bottom lip. “It feels like you’re only doing this because you’re back in town. That when your dad’s hands are mended, and this shit with Red is finished, you’re just going to up and walk out on me again, and it’ll be another four years before I see your sorry ass again.”

  I paused.

  Clearly Roxy was still bitter about me leaving town all those years ago – and I couldn’t really blame her.

  But the worst part? I didn’t exactly disagree with what she’d just said, either.

  I mean, whatever happened with my fighting career, it wasn’t like I was back here for any reason other than to look after my dad. I had no plans to stick around… even for her.

  And even though I was now hard as a rock inside my pants, I wasn’t exactly going to lie about that.

  “Listen,” I told her, looking Roxy dead in the eye. “When I leave… Why don’t you come with?”

  Roxy blinked.

  “What?”

  “I’m serious,” I told her. “What the fuck reason have you got to stay? The karate school? This house?” I shook my head. “They’re just ghosts, Roxy. Ghosts of your dad – and they ain’t gonna bring him back.”

  Roxy was silent. She stared into my eyes, and I couldn’t read what she was thinking.

  Not until she admitted: “I… I can’t.”

  “Why not?” I demanded. “X-AMERICA is going under. Sellin’ this place probably wouldn’t even pay the taxes you owe on it.” I snorted. “This town hasn’t got anything for you anymore… So why not come with me?”

  Again, Roxy was silent.

  Finally, she gulped, and I saw her eyes welling up.

  “I… I just can’t, Travis,” she murmured, and I felt her body tremble. I realized how much it was tearing her up inside.

  But that didn’t stop me saying what I needed to:

  “Well, if that’s how you feel, Roxy,” I told her, my hands circling waist, “don’t pretend that I’m the one makin’ the decision for us not to be together.”

  Those words hit her like a slap in the face, and I watched as Roxy absorbed what I’d said.

  For a second she was silent, and I was worried I’d gone too far. Me and my big mouth, and all.

  But then she nodded, and pulled her finger away from my lips… The pressure of her fingertip was soon replaced by the wetness of her kiss; as she pressed her mouth fiercely against mine.

  As she moaned into my mouth, I realized that Roxy knew exactly what the score was – and even with both our lives so uncertain, she still wanted this as much as I did.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Roxy

  Jesus, what was I thinking?

  Well, as I pressed my lips hotly against Travis’ mouth, and writhed in his lap, I knew exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking of how long it had been since I’d felt another man’s touch – and how much I’d missed Travis’ lean, hard body.

  But I also knew this wasn’t smart.

  This handsome bastard walked out on my life four years ago – and we both knew he was poised to do it again just as soon as Walt’s hands had mended.

  All I was doing was setting myself up for heartache again.

  But at this point? I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Oh, fuck,” Travis pulled his mouth away from mine, and gasped hotly into my ear. “I’ve missed you, Roxy.”

  I clawed at his broad, bare back and planted kisses on his throat.

  “I’ve missed you too, you asshole,” I growled. “Now take me into the bedroom – before I come to my senses.”

  Travis didn’t disappoint.

  With a grunt, he hefted me up into his arms, and rose to his feet like hauling me weighed nothing. Then he kissed me again, like I was a bride draped in his arms, before staggering across the hallway and through the bedroom door.

  In other circumstances, it might have been romantic – him carrying my ‘across the threshold.’ But as we kissed each other roughly, and he threw me into the creaking old bed, it was clear romance was the furthest thing from both our minds.

  I landed on the old queen-sized bed with a giggle, and the springs creaked in protest. Then I looked up, to see Travis looming above me.

  He looked magnificent, with his shirtless torso ripped and muscled, and the front of his jeans bulging out.

  I reached up to help him with that, but Travis wasn’t having any of it.

  “Lie down,” he demanded, and batted my hands aside.

  And then he was on top of me, crushing me to the bed and kissing me furiously. His hands roamed up and down my body – squeezing my curves through my tank-top and jeans.

  I could feel his hard-on through his jeans, grinding against my hip.

  “Oh, God,” I clawed at Travis’ back. “I need it.”

  “Well, you’re just going to have to wait,” Travis snarled back – and then he pulled his mouth away from mine, and lifted himself to his knees.

  I lay gasping on the bed as he towered over me.

  His long, lean arms reached down, and he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. The buttons popped open effortlessly.

  “Oh, fuck,” I gasped, as Travis wrenched my jeans down – pulling my panties down with them.

  He yanked the tight denim over the curves of my hips, and my thick thighs – and them a moment later he was tossing my pants over his shoulder, and I felt the cool air on my legs.

  I was bare from the waist down – naked except for my tank top and bra.

  God, it was thrilling.

  Back in the day, it seemed like we’d spent half our time together naked. But it had been four years since Travis had seen my like this; and I could see his eyes widen as he drank in my tanned, curvy body.

  And then me pounced on me.

  “Oh, God, Travis,” I gasped, as his strong fingers dug into my thighs, and spread my legs.

  He wrenched my knees apart, and a moment later plunged his head between my legs; breathing in the musky scent of my heat and wetness.

  For a moment, like any girl, I cringed in self-consciousness. But that was before I felt Travis’ hot breath between my legs; and then his warm, rough tongue slather between the lips of my pussy.

  “Fuuuuck!” My back arched, as Travis feasted on my eager cunt. It had been years since I’d experienced lips and tongue between my legs; and I shuddered at the delicious sensation.

  “Oh, Roxy,” Travis’ voice was muffled, as he kissed and licked between my thighs. “You taste just as good as I remember.”

  And then his tongue swirled around my clitoris, and I practically passed out from the intensity of it all.

  “Mmmmgh,” Travis moaned, as he sucked and licked on my throbbing clitoris. “Mmmmph!” I gushed into his mouth, and he just feasted more intently. “Mmmph!”

  Jesus. I was writhing on the bed now, staring up at the ceiling as my whole body sung in twisted pleasure.

  God, Travis’ firm fingers. His hot breath. The way he licked and kissed my pussy – remembering just how I liked it from all those years ago.

  This was almost all too much.

  We’d been apart so long, but he still played my body like a musical instrument.

  “Oh, God,” I couldn’t believ
e it. It seemed like it had been just seconds since he’d started kissing me down there – but already I was feeling a tidal-wave of a pleasure rolling across me. “Oh, God, Travis…. That feels… That feels…”

  I never got to finish that sentence. As Travis continued to relentlessly devour me, my whole body shuddered uncontrollably.

  A wave of pure pleasure suddenly struck me – crashing across my body like a tsunami.

  I arched my back as I climaxed – eyes rolling upwards, and body shuddering in pleasure.

  And Travis didn’t stop licking, or sucking… He continued to devour me relentlessly, until a second detonation of pleasure washed over me, and then a third…

  “Oh God,” I gasped, as he threatened to continue. “T-too much, baby…. Too much….”

  And then Travis lifted his mouth from between my legs, and I flopped to the covers panting, and gasping.

  God, my whole body was limp and tingling. I hadn’t experienced a climax like that since… since…

  Well, not since Travis had left, all those years ago. That was for damn sure.

  And then, as I lay there, I watched Travis clamber to his knees.

  I was too limp and weak to move, so I just watched as he unbuckled his belt and wrenched open his jeans.

  Sproing! Freed from the confines of his Levis, Travis’ big, beautiful cock bounced free – long, and thick, and just as I remembered it from all those years ago.

  Unbelievably, my greedy pussy throbbed again, and I spread my legs in eager anticipation.

  Fortunately, I didn’t have long to wait.

  Travis kicked off his jeans, and then – magnificently naked – he clambered onto the bed and between my outstretched thighs.

  I was dripping wet already, but I practically gushed the moment I felt the soft skin of his hard cock graze my inner thighs.

  Travis gripped the root of his big cock, and maneuvered it into position. I shuddered as I felt the swollen head nuzzle between the lips of my still-trembling pussy.

  And then my handsome former lover looked down at me, deep into my eyes.

  And his thrust.

  “Oh, fuuuuck,” I groaned, eyes widening, as I felt Travis sink inside me.