“That’s just it, Roxy,” Travis breathed. “The fight’s not in Vegas.” He held up the notes he’d been scribbling, and I read the word even as he said it: “The fight’s in London.”
There was silence for a moment.
“What?” Walt injected finally. “Like, London, England?”
“Y-yeah,” Travis nodded. “They’re holding their first fight night in London, and one of the heavyweights got injured. They want me to fill in for him.”
“Well, that’s great,” Walt flashed his teeth. “Shit, son. You get to go to London. Fish and chips, jolly good show. All that shit.”
“Yeah, but Mr. Oates,” I told him, because I knew what he didn’t. “That’s the thing. The MMA event in London is this week.”
Walt’s smile faded.
“W-what?”
“Saturday night,” Travis explained, looking just as stunned as his father did. “They want me in London to fight on Saturday.”
“B-but… That’s, like, three days from now.”
“Exactly,” Travis nodded. “That’s the fuckin’ problem.”
And I knew it was a problem. Travis hadn’t been in an octagon in months. He still looked great – and, shit, his fight with Roy showed he still had it where it counted. But to suddenly be asked to fill in at a professional-level heavyweight bout?
With three day’s notice?
“Well, son,” Walt asked dryly. “What are you gonna do?”
And Travis looked up at us both, and raised his hands.
“I’m gonna do what I born to do, dad.” He allowed the corner of his lips to curl. “I’m gonna fucking fight.”
Chapter Thirty Four
Travis
“Glad to hear it, son.” Dan Blanc’s gravelly voice purred down the line. “Thanks for taking this fight at such short notice.”
And then there was a click, and the phone went dead.
It was mid-afternoon, and I was sitting at the front desk of X-AMERICA. Dad didn’t have a computer, so Roxy had offered to let me use hers while she taught the afternoon classes.
Truth be told, it was nice to get out of the trailer – and away from all those questions dad kept asking, which I didn’t have an answer for.
Who are you fighting? How much are you getting paid? How are you getting to London?
So many questions. So little information.
“Hey – you alright, handsome?”
I looked up at the sound of Roxy’s voice, and found her leaning in the doorway to the dojo – a cute smile on her beautiful face.
“I’m fine,” I shrugged. “I guess. This all just seems…”
Too good to be true? The longer I sat here, the less I believed that.
“So, fill me in, cowboy,”
Roxy sauntered over to the front desk, and leaned on it. The last of her mid-afternoon classes had ended, and the place was deserted until that evening’s Juijitsu and Krav Maga students came in.
I leaned back in the creaking seat, and explained what I knew.
“It’s the first MMA League event in London,” I told her. “Got a whole slew of British fighters lined up. James MacDonald’s even doing the commentary.”
James ‘Bulldog’ MacDonald was the interim heavyweight champion at the moment – holding the title after his rival, ‘Baller’ Alexander, got suspended for brawling in a hotel lobby.
“One of the early fights was between Frankie ‘Fury’ Slater and Andy ‘The Hammer’ Mackey.”
“Never heard of either of ‘em,” Roxy shrugged.
“Neither had I,” I admitted, “but they’re big on the London fight scene.” I took a deep breath. “Anyway – Andy dropped out.”
‘Dropped out’ wasn’t quite accurate.
Two nights earlier, somebody had run ‘The Hammer’ down in a London street, in an incident nobody suspected was accidental. He’d apparently been wrapped up with the London mob; and they were rumored to operate in a manner even Red Callahan might disapprove of.
“So, they needed a new fighter,” I explained, “and Dan said he thought of me immediately.”
He’d said that, sure – but I wasn’t convinced. There were a lot of other eager, young MMA fighters out there; and getting this chance was a big deal.
I didn’t want to fuck it up.
“So, what’s deal?” Roxy demanded. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow night.” I showed Roxy the computer screen, where Dan was helping me book tickets from Houston Intercontinental. “Shit, it’s all moving so fast.”
Too fast, as it happened. I still hadn’t been able to reach my trainer, up in Brooklyn. Not that he’d be likely to answer my call, since my last check to him had bounced.
Roxy leaned across the desk, and grabbed the keyboard of her computer.
“Hey!”
She batted my hand away, and flipped the windows onscreen.
“They’re payin’ for you and your trainer, right?” It was a rhetorical question – the email from Dan Blanc was right there on the screen. “You even still have a trainer?”
“Yeah, of course,” I lied. The truth was, I hadn’t had a session with Nick, from my Brighton Beach gym, in weeks. “I’m just tryin’ to get him on the phone.”
And, to demonstrate that, I reached for the old Cisco handset sitting on Roxy’s desk.
She grabbed it, and hung up the receiver.
“Don’t bother,” Roxy snarled. “I’m your trainer now.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I’m serious,” Roxy repeated, looking me in the eye. “I know your trainer gets a piece of that purse money, and you know how bad X-AMERICA is hurting right now.”
Roxy had an expression on her face I’d learned not to argue with.
“Shit, Travis – I’m not even sure I can make rent next month – so you fucking owe me.”
“Roxy…” I started.
“Don’t ‘Roxy’ me,” she snapped, cutting me off. “You fucking owe me, Travis. You walked out on this place when we all needed you the most – so it’s time to make right on that.”
I blinked, looking up at her with a mixture of annoyance, and admiration.
Fuck, but Roxy was sexy when she was angry. Those big, blue eyes burned, and it made my pants tight.
But shit… She knew I couldn’t agree to this, right?
“Roxy… Honey.” I raised my hands. “You can’t come as my trainer. You’re a girl.”
“Ha!” Roxy’s eyes flashed. “You’re damn right I am. But I’m also the best goddamn martial artist within fifty miles, and as I said before – you fucking owe me.”
“You can’t be serious. I can’t show up in London with a female trainer. I’d be a laughing stock.”
“Are you for real right now?”
“Roxy, it’s not that you’re not a good trainer, but…”
Roxy narrowed her big, beautiful eyes.
“I’m not a good trainer, Travis,” she growled. “I’m a fucking great trainer. And don’t be such a sexist asshole. What, you can’t have a female trainer? Since when?”
I blinked.
I mean, it’s not like there was a rule against it. And many of the female fighters had female trainers.
But for me to show up in London with a girl?
“Tell you what,” Roxy growled. “We’ve got a couple of hours until the next class is due. Why don’t you and I head onto the mats and I’ll fucking show you.”
I blinked. That was a good one.
“I mean it, Travis,” Roxy snarled. “You get that perky little ass of yours into the dojo, and I’ll fucking show you.”
I snorted.
I mean, shit. What was there to lose? If I tried to talk her out of this, Roxy would just go on at me all day.
I couldn’t take a female trainer to London. But if I proved that to her on the mats, what could she say?
“Sure,” I pushed the chair back, and clambered to my feet. I towered over Roxy, and felt huge and powerful as I stared
down at her. “Let’s do this.”
She just snorted at me, and headed for the door to the dojo.
I kicked off my shoes and pulled my t-shirt over my head. A moment later, I was padding across the vinyl mats into the center of the studio, watching my old girlfriend pull on her gloves.
She tossed me a pair.
“If I take you down,” she growled, circling me menacingly, “you take me to London as your trainer. And I get my share of your purse money - and the winnings. You dig?”
I pulled the gloves on, and punched the knuckles of one hand into the palm of the other for a snug fit.
“Sure, Roxy,” I humored her. “You take me down, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
And before those words had even left my mouth, Roxy Rockatansky dropped to her hands on the mats, swung her powerful legs out like pile drivers, and whipped me right off my feet.
Chapter Thirty Five
Roxy
“Holy shit!”
Travis Oates came crashing down onto the vinyl mats like a felled oak tree – and the next twenty words out of his mouth would have been bleeped on TV.
“Jesus Christ, Roxy,” when he finally got his shit together, Travis clambered unsteadily to his feet, and snarled at me: “That wasn’t fair! I wasn’t ready!”
I laughed at him, and circled my ex-boyfriend eagerly.
“Technically, I think I just won this bet,” I told him, punching my gloves together as I circled him. “The deal was if I take you down…”
“That’s cheating!” Travis wheeled around to face me. With his shirt off, he looked magnificent – like a towering wild animal, all rippled muscle and sinew. “I wasn’t ready.”
“Okay, fine,” I spat back. “How about two out of three?” And as I continued circling him, I noticed Travis lower his center of gravity, and stretch out his hands.
He was ready, now – in a classic fighter’s stance.
“That was cute, Roxy,” Travis growled at me, as he turned to follow my circling. “But it was cheating.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “Well, what about this?”
And that’s when I struck again. Lowering my head, I charged at the towering Texan like a bull – and slammed my head right into his stomach.
I could hear the wind leave his lungs as I crushed Travis’ sternum – and that gave me the opportunity to reach down, and hook my arms under his thighs.
With a grunt, I yanked Travis clean off his feet – and I almost had him on the mats a second time in as many minutes.
In fact, it was only my catching himself on his hands that Travis managed to save himself. He wriggled out of my grip, and staggered back across the mats – somehow still retaining his footing.
“Damn, girl,” within seconds he was back on form – this time, circling me the same way I’d circled him just moments before. “You nearly had me there.”
It’d been four years since Travis left, but I still saw right through him. He’d tried to play it off as joking – but I’d wounded his pride.
The big, bad, MMA fighter – brought crashing down to the mats by a tiny young woman.
But that was what I loved about martial arts. Even a smaller, lighter opponent stood a chance if she knew what she was doing.
And Travis might be the MMA league heavyweight, but I’d dedicated nearly 25 years to knowing what I was doing.
“Come on, then,” Travis mocked, continuing to circle me warily. “I thought you said you were going to…”
He never finished that sentence.
I darted toward, and grabbed one of Travis’ long, lean arms. And then I pulled back – pulling him with me.
The corner of Travis’ lips curled, as his heavy feet stood firm. He thought he’d got this – especially since, as I yanked his arm out fully, he remained rooted like a tree on the vinyl mats.
If I’d been 100lbs heavier, that move might have worked. But the good thing? I didn’t need it to.
As Travis leaned forward, slightly off balance, I reversed my retreat and rammed back into him.
And, this time, I curled my knee around his calf.
Sliding down his leg like it was a stripper pole, I pressed my ankle flat against the floor, and pushed.
“Fuck!”
He hadn’t been expecting that.
Travis tried to stay upright, but my center of gravity was too low, and my grip on his ankle was too tight.
Like a falling tree, he crashed to the mats.
And this time, I didn’t let him pick himself up, and dust himself off. I was on top of him like an attack dog – knees either side of his torso, and my hands curling around his wrists.
I had Travis pinned to the floor – helpless.
“There,” I snarled, looking down into his stunned face. “were you ready that time? ‘Cos I can do this all day.”
Travis looked up at me, and his stunned expression turned to a wry grin.
“Damn, Roxy,” he purred. “I underestimated you.”
“You always underestimated me,” I growled. “That’s part of the problem.”
Travis laughed again – but slightly more nervously. He made a move to get up, but I kept him where he was with the weight of my body.
In fact, I didn’t let up on my grip even slightly. I was enjoying having this big, handsome man between my thighs.
“So, are you going to make good?” I demanded, staring down into Travis’ beautiful blue eyes. “I knocked you down, just like we agreed.”
Travis’ smile faded.
“Roxy,” he began, and I knew I wasn’t going to like what I heard next.
“Listen,” he told me. “I’d love to, honey. Shit, are you kidding me? You and me in London together?” He tried to flash a grin. “It’d be wild.”
There was a ‘but’ coming.
“But,” Travis confirmed it, “I can’t turn up with a female trainer. Shit, what’ll they think?”
I tightened my grip on Travis’ wrists.
“What does it matter what they think?” I growled. “Especially if you win. Fuck, if you beat that guy – Slater, or whatever his name is – they’ll love that you have a female trainer.”
And that’s when I saw it. A flicker of understanding in Travis’ handsome face.
But it was nearly smothered by doubt.
“I-I dunno, Roxy.”
I squirmed on top of him – wriggling my butt down his body.
“Seriously,” Travis repeated, as my ass landed on his crotch, and my breasts pressed against his sternum. “Everybody’s gonna think its…”
He gasped, never getting to the end of that sentence.
“W-what are you doing, Roxy?”
I was squirming in his lap – my curvy ass grinding against his crotch. And from the bulge I was feeling against my thigh, I could tell it was having an effect.
“I’m just in mount,” I purred, referring to the position in jujitsu when you’re straddling an opponent. “I’m not done with you, yet.”
Travis struggled, a little more seriously this time.
“Roxy, c’mon…”
I knew Travis could easily toss me off him. I might have had twenty-five years of martial arts training, but so had he – and he outweighed me by a hundred pounds.
But as I wriggled my ass in his lap, I knew it wasn’t my weight or grip that was holding him there.
“We had a deal, Travis,” I growled, grinding myself against the hard-on in his pants. “Am I your trainer, or what?”
“Roxy,” Travis groaned. “C’mon…”
But he wasn’t trying to get up any more.
“I’ll tell you what,” I bent my head, and kissed Travis’ throat. He groaned at the wet sensation of my lips on his skin. “How about another challenge?”
And when I pulled my head up, I could see that he was intrigued.
“W-what did you have in mind, Roxy?”
I bit my lip, and continued to grind myself in his lap.
“We’ve got an hour before my o
ther students turn up,” I purred. “So here’s the deal. If I make you cum before I do…?”
And, by now, Travis’ hard cock was straining in his pants.
“…then you take me to London as your trainer.”
Travis groaned, and half closed his eyes as I squirmed my ass against his cock. I could tell he was losing control.
“Well?” I demanded.
And that’s when he finally made his move.
Arching his back, Travis tossed me off him easily – and then suddenly I was the one on the mats, and he was on top of me, pinning me beneath him.
My Brazillian Jujitsu training kicked in, and I wrapped my legs around his hips. That had the unintended consequence of trapping him between my thighs – and making sure his hard, throbbing cock was pressed against my crotch.
Just two layers of material separated his beautiful dick from my now eager pussy.
“I’ll tell you what,” Travis purred, looking deep into my eyes as he pinned me to the floor. “You’re on. Challenge accepted.”
And then he bent his head, and kissed me hard on the lips.
And as I opened my mouth to accept his tongue, I realized now I had the fight of a lifetime on my hands.
Chapter Thirty Six
Travis
God, what a little minx Roxy Rockatansky was.
As she lay pinned beneath me on the mats, I knew my beautiful ex-girlfriend was going to pull out all the stops – and I couldn’t let her win.
I kissed her furiously – pinning her wrists above her head as I lay pinned between her thighs.
“I mean it, Travis,” Roxy purred, grinding her hips against mine. “You cum first? You take me to London.”
I snorted.
Who the fuck did she think I was?
In the four years since I’d left Freeport, I hadn’t exactly been a boy scout. There’d been models, and actresses, and strippers and groupies. Shit, my buddy Nico and I had even spent a year tag-teaming a sexy reporter called Lyssa, up until Nico got engaged and she ran off with a super-heavyweight from Spain.
So if this little minx thought I was the same sweet and innocent boy who’d spurt from a handjob in the back of her dad’s truck, she was in for a surprise.
A pleasant surprise.
Trigger: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance Page 11
