Chapter Forty One
James
He let Hannibal swing first.
It was an easy call to make. James lifted his elbow and effortlessly deflected the big black man’s punch. He’d seen it coming and – more importantly – everybody in the crowd had seen it too.
That meant, when the police came, he could legitimately defend himself with the claim that: “He swung first.”
But now the fight was on for real.
James backed off, and lifted his fists. Hannibal started circling him, making experimental jabs with his bare fists.
This was going to be ugly, James thought.
Hannibal made the first attack – coming in strong, with a one-two combo that James barely defended against. Then Hannibal kept on coming, and a glancing blow on the side of James’ face sent the Scotsman staggering back, his ears ringing.
“Ain’t no referee gonna break things up this time,” Hannibal grinned, raising his fists. “The only thing that’s gonna get broken is you.”
And then he came in swinging again, first with blows that James easily blocked. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Hannibal threw a haymaker that James didn’t see coming.
Clob!
With a sickening crunch, the full force of Hannibal’s fist landed in the side of James’ head, and sent the taller man staggering back.
He skittered across the lobby, and collided with a coffee table. A lamp spilled over, and an ashtray shattered on the floor.
For a second, James fell to his knees, stars exploding in front of his eyes, and he thought it was all over. But with sheer force of will, he hauled himself up and wheeled himself around just as Hannibal came in for the kill.
Placing both hands in the big man’s chest – a move Hannibal hadn’t anticipated – James shoved hard, and sent the black fighter staggering backwards across the room.
That gave James the valuable seconds he needed to shake his head, and clear the ringing in his ears.
Hannibal was already back on his feet, dancing left and right.
James shook his head again. Damn – that bastard could hit.
All it would take would be a couple more blows like that, and it would be all over. The only condolence, James mused, was that hitting him that hard must have hurt Hannibal’s hand. Maybe even broken it.
Not that he was acting like it.
“Oooh. I got you good with that one, motherfucker,” Hannibal leered. Then he reached up and patted his own cheek. “Why don’t you try and land one on me, you pussy.”
James narrowed his eyes, and tried to do exactly that.
His footwork was textbook. His swing was powerful. With a hard one-two, James swung first his right fist, and when Hannibal blocked that blow – exactly as expected – he came in with his left.
As a left-handed hitter – a ‘southpaw’ – James was used to that maneuver giving him a clean hit.
But not today.
Thump! James’ fist met uselessly with the muscle of Hannibal’s arm, as he protected his head with his elbow. Then: Pow!
Like a cobra striking, Hannibal jabbed James right in the nose.
James staggered back, blinded. His head rang. His nose throbbed. Hot blood gushed down his chin. Hannibal had just jabbed him with the power and precision of a hammer blow.
As always, the bigger fighter moved in for the kill, but this time instinct took over.
James blocked the punches that followed, and then managed to make a blind swing that caught Hannibal on the corner of his eye – knocking the big man back.
That gave James enough time to stagger back, wiping the blood pouring from his nose with the back of his hand. A moment later, he was back in the game; albeit no longer winning.
Eye to eye – fist to fist – the two fighters circled each other, and Hannibal grinned as he started to taste victory.
“I’m coming for you, motherfucker.”
Chapter Forty Two
James
So this was how it ended, James mused.
Dancing left and right, eyes ready for Hannibal’s next strike, the Scotsman realized it was over.
He was hurting, bad. His head was ringing, and hot drops of blood were staining the front of his shirt. The next hit would be a knockout – and James might be leaving this hotel lobby in an ambulance.
He was furious. Furious with Hannibal, for cornering him like this. Furious with himself, for leaving himself open for those two hits.
But mostly, he was furious for letting himself be humiliated in front of Toni.
Again.
This was like a replay of yesterday’s fight. Hannibal was faster, and more agile, and hit like a fucking meteor. There was no way James could compete punch-to-punch.
And, as if to prove that, Hannibal launched himself towards him.
This time James was ready. Hannibal’s punches collided with his forearms and fists as James protected his face. But, nevertheless, Hannibal’s final hit got through, and James took a glancing blow to the temple that hurt his pride more than his head.
Swinging back, James missed his opportunity – but did buy himself a few seconds as Hannibal retreated and regrouped.
“Oh, you’re gonna go down,” the black man roared.
James narrowed his eyes.
At this point, maybe he should. Feigning a knockout might be the only way to end this. Surely it would be better to go down quickly than draw the fight out any longer.
But the Scotsman growled as he considered that option.
Dammit, he was from the nation of Rob Roy and William Wallace. You didn’t see them taking a fall when the going got rough. They fought to the end. Always to the end.
Narrowing his eyes, and balling his hands into fists, James decided then and there that he’d do the same.
And that’s when he heard it.
Until now, he’d drowned out the crowd. The roars of ‘fight, fight, fight!’ and people catcalling them.
But he suddenly heard Toni’s voice, calling to him as loud and clear as if she was the only person in the room.
Looking up, James locked eyes with the beautiful black girl, who was screaming at him from behind Taffy’s shoulder.
“Take him down!” She was screaming. “Take him down!”
And that’s when James remembered their conversation from the night before.
He wheeled around, and relaxed his balled-up fists. And then he grinned. A smile crossing his bloody face, James MacDonald looked Hannibal Alexander in the eye and winked at him.
And that was the first time he saw a flash of fear in the black fighter’s eyes.
James braced himself. He raised his fists. He put one foot behind the other, to become as solid and stationary as a building.
And then he waited.
Chapter Forty Three
James
And James didn’t have to wait long.
With a snarl, Hannibal launched himself at him, with a series of punches that would have knocked James to the floor – if he’d been boxing.
But, instead, James actually threw himself into the punches.
Hannibal’s right fist glanced off the side of James’ head, and just kept going. James used that momentum as a trap; opening his arms and letting Hannibal practically fall into his grasp.
The Scotsman whipped one arm over Hannibal’s shoulder. The other he curled around his arm. Then, finally, James hooked his ankle behind Hannibal’s left knee, and pulled.
“Fuuuuck!”
Hannibal lost balance instantly. As James leaned his weight into him, the off-kilter fighter went crashing down onto the carpeted floor.
James landed on Hannibal with a thump – knocking the wind from the bigger fighter. As he did that, the Scotsman kicked open Hannibal’s legs, and dug his knee into the pressure point of his inner thigh.
Hannibal screamed in anguish.
The big fighter went limp, and James couldn’t blame him. The Scotsman’s entire 210lb weight was focused into the point of his knee, a
nd that was digging into a particularly painful pressure point in the Hannibal’s thigh.
But the fight wasn’t over.
With the cold precision of a surgeon, James methodically wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s right arm, and sunk his weight into it. Hannibal screamed as his arm threatened to pop straight out of its socket.
James grinned, and pulled harder.
“Fuuuuuuuck!” Hannibal wailed.
The Scotsman’s eyes flashed.
Hannibal had passed up three opportunities to wriggle out of this take down. A better trained fighter could have turned James’ moves into an opportunity – and pinned the Scotsman down instead.
But just like Toni had revealed to him, Hannibal didn’t know his stuff. He’d made rookie mistakes, and now James had the bigger man pinned and at his mercy.
He dig his knee into Hannibal’s inner thigh.
“Shiiiit!”
Then he pulled on the black man’s arm, threatening to pop it clean out of its socket.
“Oh, Jesus! Fuuuuck!”
And that’s when Hannibal started tapping.
Tap! Tap! Tap! The fingers on James shoulder. The universal sign to ‘tap out’ and surrender the fight.
But this wasn’t an MMA fight. This wasn’t the octagon. This was the floor of the Hilton hotel, and neither of these dangerous men was playing for the judges.
“Oh fuuuuuck!” Hannibal wailed. “Please! Fuuuuck! My arm!”
“Do you yield?” James growled.
“Fuuuck!”
The Scotsman increased the pressure.
“Do you yield?”
“YES!” Fat tears sprang into Hannibal’s eyes. “I fucking yield! Please, fuck, let me go! Let my arm go! You’re fucking breaking it!”
And, with that, James released the pressure.
Hannibal flopped limply to the floor, gasping for breath.
Legs shaky, James clambered off him. Somebody from the crowd handed him a box of tissues, and he balled up a fistful and pressed them against his bloody nose.
Camera flashes were going off. Cameras were rolling. Everybody in the room – more than a hundred pairs of eyes – was watching the bloodied, but handsome Scotsman loom victoriously over the sobbing, squirming Hannibal.
And that’s when Toni came running over, and wrapped her arms around James’ midriff.
Burying her face in his bloody t-shirt, Toni sobbed, and squeezed her lover, hard.
James looked down at the top of her head, and wrapped a protective arm around her.
And that’s when Taffy came swaggering over.
The little Welshman watched as Hannibal’s posse helped their friend up, and supported the staggering, gasping fighter over to one of the lobby couches.
“How’s that for a fucking rematch?” He grinned.
Chapter Forty Four
Toni
It was ten more minutes until the police showed up.
When the cops came swaggering into the lobby, they found that the crowd had already thinned out.
Hannibal and his posse had left – the fighter being carried off to his Escalade by two members of his crew. Alexander’s crew had driven off in mute silence, their hasty exist recorded for posterity by countless reporters.
Within minutes, only a couple of dedicated reporters remained in the lobby itself – eyes and cameras turned towards James MacDonald.
The Scotsman, bundled up tissues stuffed in his bloody nose, was helping the hotel staff pick up the overturned coffee table, and push the sofas back into position.
“I’m so sorry about the disturbance,” he apologized, being achingly British about it.
Pulling off his sunglasses, the leading cop made a beeline for the familiar-looking fighter. With his face bloodied up, and his knuckles scraped, it was clear he was the source of the problem.
“Sir?” The leading cop asked, as the manager scurried over to meet them. “I need to ask you a few questions...”
* * *
“What took you so long?” When it was Toni’s turn to be questioned, she was the one doing the interrogation. “The fight broke out, like, thirty minutes ago.”
“We came as soon as we were called, ma’am,” the cop gave her a dirty look. “Now, can you just let us ask the questions?”
And, like that, James, Toni and the hotel manager each sat down with the cops and talked through the dramatic events of that morning. So did the bellboy, and the hotel guests who’d witnessed the fight.
Hell, even Taffy got questioned.
“Oh, you should have seen it, boyo,” the grey-haired little man grinned, as the cop asked for a blow-by-blow account. “My boy Jimmy wiped the floor with the black bastard.”
The cop, who was African American himself, was less than impressed by Taffy’s good-natured racism.
But less-than-impressed isn’t a crime.
“We’re going to go and interview Mr. Alexander,” the cop finally concluded, after spending twenty minutes at the scene. “Don’t any of you leave town, okay?”
“How can I?” Toni wailed. “I missed my goddamn flight.”
Chapter Forty Five
Toni
After the police had left, the General Manager remained to talk to Toni, James and Taffy.
Glancing over his shoulder, to make sure the cops were truly out of sight, Taffy reached into his pocket and passed the GM five carefully-folded hundred dollar bills.
“That’s for holding off calling the cops,” the little Welshman winked. “Thanks for that. Would have hated them to break up the fight early.”
The General Manager coughed loudly, and continued to hold out his hand.
“Okay, okay,” four more hundred dollar bills found their way from Taffy’s wallet to the GM’s hand. “That’s for the coffee table and the lamp, too.”
“Wait,” Toni watched this exchange with growing dread. “You paid for the cops not to show up?”
“That’s not all,” James growled, looming up behind Taffy and grabbing the tiny little Welshman by his collar. “I just asked the reporters over there – they said you were the one who’d called them, to tip them off about Toni staying here.”
“You did what?” Toni nearly slapped him herself.
Taffy’s face turned red. He shrugged good-naturedly.
“All’s well that ends well, boyo,” the Welshman grinned. “You got that rematch you wanted, didn’t you?”
“That you wanted,” James growled. “And I’d hardly call brawling in a hotel lobby a ‘rematch’.”
“Well, I would,” Taffy grinned. “And you won, didn’t you?”
“But what about me?” Toni cried. “You ruined my fucking career, you little bastard!”
“Calm down, love,” Taffy held up his hands defensively. “whatever happens, you were well shot of that bastard. You need a man who’ll treat you like the little lady you are.”
His eyes flashed.
“A man like James, here.”
Toni blushed. Then she looked up at James – and found the handsome Scotsman looking back down at her with a smile.
And, like that, the wicked little Welshman – who’d manipulated them both into this violent confrontation – managed to defuse the situation.
A mischievous grin stretched across his face, and he looked so innocent that even Toni lowered her hand and laughed bitterly.
“Why, you…”
James reached out and wrapped his hand in hers.
“Come on, sweetheart” he sighed. “Let’s get some breakfast, before we decide to throttle this little leek-eater.”
Epilogue
Toni
4 Weeks Later
Lying in a luxurious bed overlooking the Hollywood Hills, hip hop honey Toni Rome gave MMA fighter James MacDonald the blowjob of a lifetime.
She was devouring him like she hadn’t seen him in a month – which, as it happened, wasn’t that far from the truth.
Naked, on her hands and knees, with her round bottom stuck up provocatively
in the air, Toni bobbed her head in the handsome Scotsman’s lap, swirling her tongue around the head of his straining shaft.
“Fuck me,” James groaned, arching his back as the gorgeous black girl took a break to slurp and lick his balls. “Jesus, that’s fucking incredible.”
Toni giggled, and wiggled her ass in the air.
With a wet-sounding ‘smack’ she pulled her lips from James’ cock, and murmured: “How about you give me some of those sweet kisses, baby?”
And, with that, she started shuffling around on the bed, swiveling until her curvy hips were level with James’ head.
He eagerly reached out for her, and the tiny black girl straddled his face.
“Mmmmph!” James’ rough, thick tongue slithered between the lips of Toni’s glistening pussy. “Mmmph!”
“Oh, fuuuuuck,” saliva drooled from Toni’s mouth, as she felt the exquisite sensation of James’ tongue swirling around her clitoris. “Oh, shit, baby…”
And then she opened her mouth in a silent scream, and lowered it back over his straining cock.
The two of them devoured each other for what seemed like an eternity – the wet sounds of suction and slurping echoing across the luxurious room.
Eventually, as Toni teased his taint with her tongue, and stroked his long, straining shaft with agile fingers, James couldn’t take it any longer.
He pulled his face from between her cheeks, and groaned: “I-I’m gonna cum, baby…”
“Oh, you’d better,” Toni’s eyes flashed, and she swallowed up his straining cock again.
Her tongue swirled. Her lips sucked. Her fingers caressed his balls, and even teased the entrance to his ass with an exploratory pinky.
And as she did that, Toni ground her curvy ass down on James’ face, riding his tongue as it slurped and slathered and swirled around her clitoris.
Somehow – incredibly – they both came at the same time.
“Fuuuuuck.”
Toni gushed into James’ mouth, and he relentlessly kept on devouring her. Meanwhile, he cock swelled, and throbbed, and finally spurted hot, salty cum across Toni’s tongue, and she gulped it down eagerly.
FIGHT NIGHT #1: Three Story MMA Romance Bundle Page 14
