Scottish Swag

by Cristina Grenier

  He needed her now - more than he had ever needed anything in his life.

  All at once, he was shoving her panties down incredible, long legs before taking hold of her thighs to draw her to the very edge of the couch. When he slid home in one swift, greedy stroke, Savannah screamed, clinging to him as she trembled and clenched around him like a vice.

  She was coming - coming the moment he was in her and it was fucking glorious.

  Torran gripped her tightly, kissing over her face and neck as her shaking slowly subsided and she struggled for breath, all but fused to him. His tongue tangled with hers and he started to move, catching every cry and gasp she uttered in his mouth as he rutted her against the couch. Every urgent press of his hips against hers drove him deeper into heaven until Torran thought he would lose his goddamn mind.

  It wasn’t just the sex, mind you. It was her. The way she clawed at him - the desperate way she clutched his shoulders, his arms, any part of him she could reach - all the while whispering his name like a fucking prayer…

  When she wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deeper than he thought humanly possible, Torran buried his face in her shoulder, any semblance of rhythm he’d had completely gone. He drove into her wildly, each stroke making her shudder and writhe and then, all at once, she was coming again. Savannah moaned his name almost deliriously as her body seized around him and Torran was lost.

  He found his own climax with a hoarse shout, his hips working against hers as he emptied himself hotly within her clenching womb.

  By the time it was over, they were both sweat-slick and struggling for breath. Torran tugged Savannah from the edge of the couch and onto the seat, settling his large form around her smaller one. There was a time, he realized, when the prospect of having a woman stay with him after sex was absolutely out of the question. At that moment, he might have moved the heavens and earth had Savannah tried to leave him.

  Luckily for him, she seemed pretty content where she was. That, and he strongly suspected that her legs were jelly after the way she’d spasmed around his cock.

  To his surprise, however, the woman in his arms recovered before he did. Savannah lifted her head to gaze at him with surprisingly clear honey eyes. “You can’t go to sleep.” At the hoarseness of her own voice, her cheeks reddened slightly.

  Torran only chuckled, tightening his hold on her. He was exhausted, and there was no force on earth that was going to stop him from passing out with her in his arms. “If you want to yell at me some more, you can do it in the morning.”

  Savannah merely exhaled a long breath before reaching up to cup his face between her hands. When she spoke, her tone was completely serious. “I don’t want to yell. But I do want to go ahead and let everyone know you want your title back.”

  Almost immediately, Torran was completely awake. He bolted upright to look down at the woman beside him incredulously. After all he’d told her, how could she even think of trying to put him back in the ring? It was Torran’s first impulse to bluster and bellow until Savannah understood him, but, for once, he understood that hadn’t worked too well for him in the past.

  And the last thing he wanted at this juncture was Savannah getting pissed at him and running off to do something rash.

  “Savannah,” he started slowly, “I can’t go back into the ring. What if Two Finger decides one fight isn’t enough? What if he makes me lose all my fights - or worse, what if he comes after the people closest to me? I wouldn’t doubt he’s fucking capable.” He uttered the last words bitterly, remembering all too well how Two Finger dealt with those who opposed him.

  Savannah rose into a sitting position as well, running a hand through her deliciously mussed curls. “Of course he’s capable. That’s why we’re going after him first.”

  Torran merely stared at her as if she’d grown a third head; but his lover seemed completely unfazed. “Torran, he fucking blackmailed you into losing a fight. I think that might be of more interest to the media than whatever he thinks he has against Warrick. In fact,” her eyes had taken on a dangerous gleam of defiance. “I’m pretty sure that we could get any accusations he might have completely discredited. The man’s a criminal after all.”

  Torran wouldn’t say he couldn’t understand where she was going, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. If Savannah announced anything publicly, it would still be tantamount to declaring war on Two Finger - the biggest ‘Fuck You’ the Irishman had ever received.

  “Savannah, you’re tough as nails, sweet.” Leaning down, Torran brushed his mouth lingeringly over her forehead, “And I admire that. I really do. But I can’t put you in harm’s way. I won’t.”

  The dark-skinned woman took one look at his somber expression before she raised her mouth to his to kiss him - long and lingering. When her eyes met his once more, none of the determination there had faded.

  “Torran, honey, I think it’s pretty much established that I could give two wits what you want. I’m more concerned with what you need.”

  Chapter 12: Snatched

  He wasn’t happy - that Savannah knew. At least, he wasn’t happy that she was the one putting him out there. But she’d have to be blind not to see the fire that had returned to his deep blue eyes.

  If Torran had expected her to be cowed by the dicier aspects of his past, he was bound to be disappointed. When she found a gun in his office, she had known it took a particular type of man to try something like that in New York City, regardless of what kind of money he had. Torran hadn’t flashed the weapon around, and he hadn’t threatened anyone. He just wanted an extra layer of security.

  And not only for himself.

  On many different levels, Savannah was both humbled and flattered that Torran was so worried about her. The man had once been so voraciously focused on getting in her pants that he hadn’t been willing to entertain the notion that she could help him. Now, he was worried that she was too good at her job.

  But Savannah had no such reservations.

  It wasn’t that she denied that there was danger involved. She’d held a gun in her hand for God’s sake. Savannah’s confidence came from those around her. She was almost constantly either in Torran’s office building, with its round the clock security force, or in her Soho office, which was pretty well protected itself. When she was at home, she spoke to her father every day, and heaven forbid that someone actually come after her while he or Torran was present. They would end up in the hospital for the foreseeable future, if not six feet under.

  Despite the threat looming over her, Savannah felt safe. Safe enough that she went about working with her father to plan Torran’s return to the spotlight.

  Of course, the media leapt on the prospect of him reclaiming his title. When they got wind of the possibility that blackmail was the only reason he’d lost in the first place, the scandal headlined the papers for a good two weeks. The Irishman went on dozens of TV shows to expose what had really happened when he lost his fight.

  His story shocked some into empathy, and rankled others. Of course, Kelton - the current “champ” was in no mood to be toyed with. While he spent the first forty eight hours calling Torran every name he could possibly think of to anyone who would listen, he gradually realized that his outbursts were only helping to confirm what others suspected to be true.

  Worse, some people might even believe that Kelton had something to do with the blackmail. In any event, he was a much more readily available figure that the amorphous Two Finger, who lived half a world away.

  And speaking of Two Finger, the man refused to step from the shadows to deny or uphold his claims. For the first few days after Savannah convinced Torran to go public, both she and he waited with bated breath for Two Finger backlash. Torran doubled security at his office building and called her every other hour they weren’t together.

  But the Irish Criminal remained completely quiet. No accusations about Warrick surfaced, and when they didn’t, there was a sudden clamor for a rematch to be sure that it wasn’t
, in fact, Torran’s skills that had failed.

  Kelton managed to avoid the demands for a week or so before he finally gave in.

  Savannah was watching her father train Torran when she got the call, and the moment the UFC chairman told her what was happening, a cry of triumphant delight echoed through the gym.

  For a split second, all eyes were on her, and she felt her face burning in embarrassment. But, not even that could dissuade her from rushing to the side of the ring to tell her father and her client the good news. “We’re on! They’ve scheduled the rematch ten days from today!”

  “Hot damn!” Tyrone grinned, punching Torran in the shoulder enthusiastically. “You’re back in the game, man.”

  Torran, however, was focused on Savannah. The look he gave her was so intense that she found herself clearing her throat as she tore her gaze from his. It wasn’t fair that he could undress her with a single look. It was like the man were challenging her - not only laying her body bare, but every part of her.

  And Savannah was shocked to find that she craved it.

  But, of course, with Torran undressing her with his eyes in the middle of the gym, it wasn’t long before her father had something to say on the subject. He dropped the bomb on her about five days before the fight was scheduled, when she was at his house for a celebratory dinner. Torran, training solo, was absent.

  They were halfway through an amazing meal from her favorite barbecue place when Tyrone broached the subject.

  “So how long have you and Torran been a thing?” Though Savannah had suspected that her father knew what was going on, she hadn’t expected the question at that exact moment; and as a result, she nearly choked on a bite of green beans.

  “W-what!?”

  Tyrone Jones merely gazed across the table at his daughter, his expression carefully neutral. “I assume you and Maloney are sleeping together. I think I’ve done pretty well not to turn his ass inside out every time I catch him staring at yours.”

  Oh Christ...Vainly, Savannah searched for the right words. Of course, she’d talked to her father about boyfriends before, but this was different. The quality of Torran’s training depended on her father not killing him. Briefly, she pondered telling him that it was just sex. She was a grown woman, Torran was a grown man, and they could both make their own decisions.

  But she had never been very comfortable lying to her father.

  “Dad...I...I don’t know what you want me to say. I know it’s...not the best decision to get involved with a client. That was never my intention.” The young woman chose her words as carefully as she could. However, she found that once she started talking, her feelings just came spilling out - far less censored than she might have hoped they’d be. “But then I started working with him and it’s just...I mean....I can’t defend him. He’s hard to work with. He has a strong personality and he’s hell bent on getting his way...but he’s also determined, loyal and sincere. He might be brutal, but he’s always honest, and I admire that. I love it, even.”

  Tyrone was silent for a long time before he finally answered her with another question. “Do you love him?”

  She couldn’t deny it. The word no was nowhere near her lips.

  Of course, Savannah hadn’t seriously considered the L-word. She certainly knew that, while the sex between she and Torran was life altering, there was definitely more to it than that. How much more, she herself was nervous to contemplate.

  Or, at least, she had been until her father asked her.

  Slowly, she nodded.

  Tyrone sighed, long and low, and Savannah prepared herself for a lecture. If there was one thing her father had taught her, it was that you were never too old to get knocked down a few pegs.

  When Tyrone opened his mouth, however, it wasn’t to admonish her. Instead, her father only laughed lowly, his mouth turning up slightly at the corners. “I suppose it makes sense that my Savvy would fall in love with a man just like her.”

  For a long, protracted moment, Savannah just stared at him. She placed her fork on her plate and rounded the table to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. Tyrone rubbed his daughters back comfortingly - as he had ever since she was a small child. It never ceased to amaze her how his huge, powerful hands had always been so gentle.

  And always there when she needed them.

  Was it surprising that she woke up the morning of the fight in high spirits? It was brilliantly sunny and deliciously cool that morning - not that she felt it when she was fit up against Torran’s massive, furnace-like chest.

  Savannah couldn’t remember exactly when she had started staying certain nights at his house, only that one night she had the best sleep of her life and, after that, staying only seemed natural.

  For her entire life, Savannah had been focused on furthering herself and escaping her father’s shadow - she had never really stopped to wonder what it would be like to have a man she cared for more than her career. Now, when faced with the prospect, she had no idea what to do with herself. Did she tell Torran, flat out, that he had royally messed with her emotions? Somehow, she was pretty sure that was the last thing he wanted to hear before his title fight.

  But even if she wasn’t going to make any professions, she was free to watch him, completely unfettered, in the moments before he woke. Any woman with eyes could see that Torran was one of the finest male specimens to walk the earth. Close to seven feet of gorgeously muscled, freckled Irishman with a few days’ worth of stubble covering his swarthy face. He was completely naked, and completely hers.

  It occurred to her that, at some point, she should be worried that an infamous womanizer would find her wanting. Before she met Torran, the Irishman had boned his way through half of the world’s most beautiful women. Now, she somehow doubted that he was similarly inclined. Not when the man was clamoring for her like she was the only woman in the world who existed.

  With a satisfied smile, Savannah pressed a kiss to his chest. He was gorgeous like this, characteristic frown absent, all muscle and glorious sinew. Even if she didn’t have the courage to tell him, the knowledge that she loved him was enough to have her floating on air.

  It took her about an hour to finally drum up the wherewithal to slip away from him, but she finally did. Her to-do list for the fight that night was a mile long, and she wasn’t even sure where she would start. Savannah showered quickly, careful not to get roped into staring at her lover again as she dried off. She dressed and grabbed a piece of toast before leaving his penthouse apartment, her spirits high.

  She couldn’t wait until he won his title back. She’d be there with him to celebrate - to tell him that she’d told him so, and to bask in his elation.

  Savannah’s head was high in the clouds when her arm was taken in a firm grip just four blocks away from Torran’s apartment. When she turned to tell her assailant off, however, something sour tasting shoved past her teeth into her mouth, muffling her shout of surprise. Strong arms shoved her into the nearest available alleyway - out of the view of passersby - and for the first time since Torran had told her about Two Finger, the young woman found herself genuinely terrified.

  **

  It was Torran’s tradition to sleep late on the mornings he had big matches. Chances were he had been up late the previous night, either fighting or debauching, and he’d be damned if he was caught without the eight hours he needed. When he woke around eleven in the morning, his first impulse was to reach for Savannah.

  She’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, visibly exhausted from all the hoops she’d been jumping through to plan his fight. True, he’d did his part to make her even more tired, but afterward, Torran stayed awake for a good half an hour watching her sleep.

  And he knew he had it bad.

  Of course, he had no intention of telling Savannah. Not yet. He would wait until sometime after the fight - maybe tomorrow, maybe a month from now - but, somehow, he’d tell her. God, he could only imagine the look on Tyrone’s face. The man he’d come rapidly to re
spect not only as a trainer, but also as a mentor, was going to beat the ever loving shite out of him.

  But, for once, the prospect only made him grin.

  When Torran’s hand only found empty space when he reached for his lover, however, his eyes slid lazily open. He was disappointed, if not overly shocked. Savannah wasn’t a woman who could lie idle for very long. She was an early riser and she always liked to be busy. He wondered if she was at the arena or if she’d met her father for some last minute strategizing. Either way, she was probably wondering why he was still lazing around.

  She was lucky she’d gotten up before him. If she hadn’t, they would both still be lazing around. He knew that he had a lot to get done before that evening, and it would be easier to tackle his to do list when his mind wasn’t full of Savannah.