Inch after delicious inch, stretching and filling me like I hadn’t been in years.
And all the while, he stared into my eyes, and I stared back.
“Jesus, that feels so good,” Travis groaned, as his thick cock finally bottomed out inside of me.
His muscular hips were pressed against mine. Each movement ground his pelvis against my clitoris. I shuddered at the sensation.
And then, staring into my eyes, Travis started to thrust.
The bed springs creaked. My heart pulsed. My pussy throbbed at the sensation of Travis’ big, hard dick sliding in and out of me.
“God, I’ve missed you,” Travis groaned, staring into my eyes.
I turned my head. I didn’t want to hear that right now. I didn’t want to have to deal with it.
I just wanted to feel his beautiful muscular body on mine, and feel that thick, throbbing cock sliding in and out of me.
Already, I was nearing orgasm again – and from the speed of Travis’ thrusts, and the heat of his breath on my neck, I knew he was too.
“Cum for me, baby,” I groaned, curling my legs around his hips, and clawing at his broad back. “Please… cum for me.”
And then he was kissing me – his mouth hot, and wet, and eager against mine.
I squeezed shut my eyes and kissed Travis back. The surge of pleasure was building between my legs, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before…
Before…
“Oh, God, Roxy,” Travis pulled his mouth away. “I can’t…. I can’t hold it any longer…”
And finally I found the courage to look into his eyes.
As Travis hung above me, thrusting deep inside, I stared into his blue eyes, and reached up to stroke his cheek.
“Then don’t hold it any longer,” I murmured. “Cum for me.”
And he did.
With a shuddering groan, Travis thrust as deep inside me as he could, and I felt his cock throb, and swell, and pulse.
He groaned, as he exploded deep within me.
And the truth be told? The sensation of Travis’ warm, hot load filling me was all it took to tip me over the edge, too.
As Travis emptied himself inside of me, I came loudly and hotly, clinging to him like he was a rock in the midst of a storm.
The moment seemed to last forever – our two bodies joined as one. And then suddenly it was over, and we both came crashing back to reality.
Travis flopped across my chest, utterly spent. And I just lay shuddering beneath him, still joined wetly at the crotch.
I stroked Travis’ head, and kissed his cheek gently.
“Four years is a hell of a long time to wait, baby,” I murmured, feeling him grow softer inside of me. “But it was worth it.”
And then I curled my arms around his shoulders, and promised myself I’d cling to this moment for as long as I could.
Chapter Twenty Nine
Travis
If it’s a groupie, or a one-night stand, or a friend-with-benefits, the moments after sex can be super awkward.
But it was never that way with Roxy. Not even after four years.
After our intense, passionate encounter, she curled her arms around my shoulders and clung to me, as we both lay there. And then, finally, she was the one to roll me aside and growl: “It’s nearly 3am. You should get home to your dad.”
I laughed, and rolled off her.
God, it was amazing seeing Roxy again. Feeling her again.
As I looked across the bed at her nearly-naked figure, I was suddenly struck by how much I’d missed her. Missed this.
She looked beautiful, with her tanned, naked curves and her black hair all mussed up and sexy.
I couldn’t believe I’d ever walked away from that.
“I’m serious,” Roxy repeated, groaning as she sat up on the bed. “You should get back to your dad. He can’t even take a whizz by himself right now.”
That wasn’t strictly true – Walt had at least managed to overcome that challenge – but it wasn’t cool to leave an old man with bang-up hands on his own all night.
Reluctantly, I sat up and reached for my jeans.
“So… Now what?” I asked, as I watched Roxy clamber off the bed herself.
In just her tank top – with her delicious, bare ass gyrating as she walked – Roxy crossed the room to the bedside table and grabbed a handful of tissues. She wiped between her legs – where I was still leaking hotly out of her.
“I dunno,” the beautiful martial artist explained, as she looked around for her own pants. With her flushed face and bright eyes, I could tell she’d enjoyed the sex as much as I had – but there was still a sincerity to her voice when she admitted: “Maybe we shouldn’t have done that.”
I clambered off the bed and pulled up my pants. As I tightened my belt, I crossed the room and swept my old girlfriend up into my arms.
Her lips were soft and hot against mine.
“Why shouldn’t we?” I demanded, brushing a waft of hair from her eye. “You’re single. I’m single. What’s the big deal?”
Roxy looked up at me, her blue eyes glistening.
“Because of how it makes me feel,” she admitted. Sniffing, Roxy confessed: “Now I’ve got all sorts of feelings churnin’ around that, frankly, I thought I was done with.”
I looked down at her, and realized that maybe I felt the same way.
I kissed her again.
“So what now?”
Pulling from my arms, Roxy reached for her panties and jeans.
“I dunno,” she shrugged, as she stepped into her panties. “I mean are we… like…?” She snorted bitterly. “Dating again, or something?”
I shrugged, which was probably not the answer Roxy wanted.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “All I do know is this: Out of everything that’s happened to me over the past few weeks, this was the only thing that felt right to me.”
Roxy looked up at me. She was adorable, standing there in her panties and tank top. Part of me wanted to throw her on the bed and give her a second round of lovin’, right then and there.
But I didn’t – because she countered with a warning:
“You said it felt right, Travis,” Roxy warned. “But if you want to make this work, you’ve got to do right.”
And I knew that would be a tough challenge to live up to.
Chapter Thirty One
Roxy
Travis and I drove in silence back to X-AMERICA, where my truck sat in the parking lot – lonely beneath the beam of a solitary streetlight.
Travis pulled the old Chevy alongside, and left the engine rumbling as he opened the door for me.
“Roxy,” he blocked me from getting out of the truck, and wrapped me in his arms when I tried to wriggle past him. “We’re cool, right?”
I snorted, and looked up at him.
My handsome, towering ex-boyfriend. God, I didn’t know whether I loved him, or wanted to murder him. My pussy throbbed at the memory of our lovemaking, less than an hour earlier – but I had butterflies in my stomach just thinking about him leaving again.
“Travis, honey,” I reached up and laid my palm on his cheek. “Nothing about this is cool right now.”
I snorted, and wriggled out of his arms.
“Your dad’s hands are busted up. I’m a month or two away from losin’ my house, and my dad’s business. And then look at you.”
Travis blinked when I said that, and I could tell he didn’t relish the prospect.
“You told me your fight career’s over. And now you’re in hock to that Red asshole, just like your dad is.”
I sniffed, and reached up to squeeze Travis’ arm.
“Honey, from where I’m standin’, you’re in just as much trouble as I am.”
Travis shuddered when I said that, and I saw his eyes narrow. Clearly the reality of all this was hitting him.
It’d been easy to ignore, that night. The drama of confronting Red. That fight in the parking lot. The sex afterward.
<
br /> Tonight had been about blood, and hormones, and action.
And it was only now, almost near sunrise, that reality was creeping back into the picture.
Travis looked down at me, and he squeezed my hand.
“I’m gonna make it right, Roxy,” he promised. “With my dad. With Red. With you.”
His mouth narrowed into a line.
“I’m a lot of things, but I ain’t no quitter. And I know that if I just keep fighting, sometime soon something’s gotta go my way.”
But what? What miracle could get us out of this?
I wish I knew. All I did know was that it was late, and I had my first cardio kickboxing class in just a couple of hours.
“Goodnight, Travis.” I reached over and hugged him – a chaste and loving hug, compared to the passion of earlier. “Call me tomorrow, okay?”
And then I left him, beneath the searing glare of that streetlight, and clambered into Dad’s old truck.
I didn’t think I’d get much sleep between then and sunrise – but I knew lying in that bed, fresh with the scent of our lovemaking, would be like a dream all in itself.
Chapter Thirty Two
Travis
“Jesus, son,” dad barked, the moment he saw me the following morning. “What in the hell happened to you?”
It was a legitimate question. As I stood there frying eggs on the range, I could see my own reflection in the stainless steel hood – and it didn’t look pretty.
Roy had given me one hell of a black eye – swollen up like a damn golf ball.
“I mean it, son,” for one of the first times since I’d been back, my dad actually sounded… well, like a dad. “You okay?”
The concern in his voice was touching.
I slid the eggs onto an old, cracked plate and turned to face my old man.
“I’m fine, pop,” I promised, as I slid the plate onto the table. “In fact, I’m better than fine.” I paused, wondering what his reaction would be. “I saw Red last night.”
My dad froze, and his wrinkled old eyes widened.
“You what?”
“Relax, pop.” I’m not sure if I was trying to reassure him, or me. “I squared off with him. Bought you a week.” I slid behind the other side of the breakfast nook, and reached for the salt. “A week’s plenty of time to figure out how to get that bastard off your back.”
But old Walter Oates didn’t take my suggestion to ‘relax.’
“Are you shittin’ me, son?”
My old man narrowed his eyes across the table.
“Why the hell would you go and do a damn stupid thing like that? Red ain’t the kind of a character you want to be messin’ with.” He held up his bandaged hands. “Take it from me, son. I know.”
“Exactly!”
My angry retort echoed through the trailer.
“I sent his goons runnin’ off yesterday, pop – but how long before he sent ‘em back? To do worse than just bust some bones.”
My dad was silent as he listened to this.
“Shit, I’m not here to judge how you got into hock with old Red,” I wasn’t going to judge, because I felt partially responsible, after losing those two fights like I had. “But I sure as shit aren’t going to sit here and let him hurt you anymore.”
Walt gulped dryly.
After a long pause, he croaked: “I’m just worried about you, son.” He snorted. “I don’t want you makin’ the same dumbass decisions I did.”
Taking a deep breath, Walt sighed: “You’ve got a talent, son. You’re goin’ places. And I’m not about to get in your way.”
“You’re not in my way,” I fired back. “You’re my dad.”
There wasn’t much he could say to that.
“Look, I ain’t gonna lie, pops,” I continued. “You ain’t the Father of the Year. I’m not sure which I hated more – the nights you took your belt to me, or the nights you didn’t come home at all.”
I closed my eyes, blinking away tears.
“…but you always made sure we had a roof over our heads, and food on the table. And you taught me to bust my ass, and to fight.” I reached over, and squeezed his forearm. “I know it wasn’t easy, raisin’ me after momma died. And I just want you to know I appreciate it – and now it’s my turn to look after you.”
Walt wiped one eye. He blinked furiously.
“It’s the damn smoke in here,” he lied, struggling up from the table. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air.”
And I sat there and watched my old man stagger to the door of the trailer, and emerge into the bright, hot Texas sunshine.
I don’t think I’d seen tears in my dad’s eyes except for two occasions – when momma died, and when the Dallas Cowboys won the Superbowl back in ’95.
I was touched.
Blinking back tears of my own, I finished my eggs, and threw the plates into the sink.
Then I headed out myself, into the blinding Texas sunshine.
Dad was out in the front lawn, smoking a Parliament he’d cleverly wedged into the bandages of his right hand. I wondered how clever it would be when the butt burned down, and set fire to his dressings.
But that wasn’t my problem.
I strode out to the back yard, where the dew was glistening on my rusty old weights, and the Wavemaster I’d borrowed from Roxy.
I pulled my gloves off the top of dad’s old barbecue, and pulled them on. A moment later, I was wailin’ on that Wavemaster like it owed me money.
Damn, but it felt good to get my fists flying. Throwing punches was what I was born to do – and even if the old punching stand didn’t put up much of a fight, I got a lot of satisfaction from burying my fists into the vinyl padding, and listening to the stand rock back and forth.
My body ached from lack of sleep and the punishment of last night’s fight, but getting the blood pumping and my fists flying was all the medicine I needed.
Soon, sweat was dripping down my back and my lungs were comfortably burning – and as I kept on punching, I turned my attention to the problems I had to deal with.
Firstly? Getting Red off our backs. Last night had bought me a thousand dollars and a week. But I still didn’t know how I’d ever find the money to pay that crooked bastard back.
Secondly, there was my career to think about. Or, my lack of one. Shit, I didn’t even have enough money to pay for my flight back to New York – so maybe I was going to do just what I’d promised myself I wouldn’t; and wind up trapped in this shithole town, like the washed up loser I was worried I’d become.
And finally?
There was Roxy.
Fuck, but the memory of her lips and body was fresh in my mind. Last night had been amazing.
But what now?
She might have slept with me, but I knew she still hated me. Hated me for walking out on her and her old man. For turning my back on everything we’d had together.
And I didn’t know if there was any way I’d ever make it right.
With a snarl, I started punching the Wavemaster harder – really laying into it. Shit, I threw some swings so hard that my fingers hurt when they impacted the tough padding.
I was fucked.
Whichever way you looked at it, I was screwed. And what was worse than that was how my old man was screwed, too – and Roxy. We were all on the brink of losing everything; and for all my success on the fight circuit, there was nothing I could do to help any of us.
I felt powerless. Me, a 6’ 4” MMA heavyweight – totally helpless in the face of cold, hard reality.
It would take a miracle to make things right; and miracles were in short supply in Freehold, Texas. It wasn’t like the phone was just gonna ring, and all my prayers were magically going to be answered.
“Yo! Travis!”
I paused, looking up as I heard my name.
Breath ragged in my lungs, and sweat dripping down my brow, I saw my father standing at the corner of the trailer – the phone squished between his bandaged hands.
“It
’s the phone, son,” my dad barked, striding on over. “Some guy called ‘Dan Blanc’ asking for you.”
I froze when I heard that name.
“Yeah,” Dad nodded, seeing my reaction. “That’s what I thought. He’s the head of the MMA League, right?”
I nodded wordlessly.
“Well, speak to him, goddammit. He says he’s got a fight for you.”
Chapter Thirty Three
Roxy
The tires squealed as I slewed the old truck to a halt outside Walt’s trailer. The engine hadn’t even died before my boots hit the asphalt, and I ran up the path.
Walt was waiting at the trailer door, and he ushered me inside.
“Is it true?” I demanded, as I barreled into the cramped little trailer.
Travis was sitting at the breakfast nook, head practically brushing the ceiling. He had the phone in one hand, and a pen in the other. A notepad in front of him was covered in notes.
“Well?” I snapped.
Travis looked up at me. His handsome face was like a mask – his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
“Fuck, Roxy,” he muttered, putting the phone down. “I-It is true.” He knew his dad had called me as soon as he’d heard. “That was the MMA League. They’ve actually got a fight for me.”
My cheeks hurt as my smile widened. Crossing the old trailer, I flung my arms around Travis and squeezed his beautifully muscled frame as hard as I could.
“I knew it,” I breathed hotly into his ear, kissing my old boyfriend’s cheek. “I knew they’d find a fight for you.”
This was a big deal. A final shot to salvage his fight career.
“When is it?” I demanded, finally letting Travis breath. “Who are you fighting? Do I know them? How long do you have to wait? They’re not fighting in Vegas again until the fall.”
Shit, this could be the miracle he’d been waiting for. Purse money. Media attention. The chance to cling onto his MMA stardom.
But, even as I rattled off my questions, I could see that Travis wasn’t feeling it.
He looked up at me, his face still mask-like.
Trigger: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance Page 10
