At some point sleep claimed me, despite the boom of nature’s fury outside. When I woke, I swore I could still taste Crystal on my lips, but it was probably all in my head, wishful thinking brought on by an interrupted sexcapade.
As I got out from underneath the covers, stood and stretched like a cat. Hell, I was going to be disappointed when I had to shower and get rid of her scent after my run.
After last night’s massive storm, the morning stillness felt especially calm and soothing. Crystal slept angelically on her back, her ample chest rising and falling, covered only by a white lace bra. I smiled, happy that I’d at least gotten to enjoy a fleeting taste of this gorgeous specimen of a woman. I’d encountered my fair share in my day, but there was something about her that had me off my usual game. MMA fighters aren’t exactly struggling for pussy, and I could go get any woman I wanted. Every night groupies camped out at the hotel, even at a location as remote as Easter Island. Sex aside, I was just pissed I didn’t get to spend the night in a post-coital glow with Crystal.
After my usual morning run, pushup, and sit-up routine, I showered and threw on some jeans to head to Erma’s for breakfast. I was in the middle of making my most difficult decision of the day--white t-shirt or green t-shirt--when Crystal emerged from the shower.
I pretended not to look at her as she threw on cutoff jean short shorts, a tank top, and a baseball cap. It was a departure from her usual very dressy attire and it caught me off guard. She had this hot country girl look going on, and the fact that I could tell she was trying not to look sexy, ironically made her extra sexy.
“I’m heading into town today,” she said sweetly. “I have some extra work to do, then see you after the fights?”
“I can do that.”
Outside, a taxi picked her up. I was proud of her. She’d figured out that since we didn’t have a landline, we had to go to Erma’s next door to request them.
She was adapting to the island one small step at a time.
Since tonight was the two-week mark of our fights, we had a couple of higher profile fighters coming in to fight. Cole and Michael were both heavyweights, one from the UK and was from Las Vegas. They fought in a different class then me. Still, we respected the fuck out of each other and I loved hanging with them.
Plus, I enjoyed the fact that even though they both outweighed me by at least twenty pounds, I could outdrink their silly asses. One of the benefits of being Irish. And tonight, I’d decided, I was getting fucking hammered.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of the uncontrollable drinking types, although that runs in my family. My dad died from the drink and I wouldn’t follow in his path. I considered tonight a sort of whisky exorcism before I would go stone cold sober for the rest of the time leading up to the fight with Toro. I had forty-six days to turn my body in a perfectly well-oiled machine.
Of course, that meant we had to go to Easter Island’s only club, named Wanna Mana. The doors of the club were wide open to the beach front tonight, and a plethora of people were dancing on the patio that jutted out and onto the sand. Groupies, fans, hell, I thought I even saw the Zoreto people in there. It basically was the only party on the entire island this Saturday night, and the club was bumping.
The three of us sat outside the action, next to the Pacific Ocean in the VIP area. A salty, warm breeze wafted off the ocean water. Michael raised his glass full of whisky neat. “Cheers to this bloody crazy bastard for choosing the most godforsaken, isolated location in the world for his fight series. If Connor bloody McGrath doesn’t know how to pull off a publicity stunt then for fooks sake, no one does. You’re making the Kardashians look like goddamn amateurs.”
I smiled and tip my head back toward the inside of the club, away from the ocean. “Well thanks my good man. If you want to come slob on my knob some more there’s a one-person bathroom we can use.”
Cole cracked up. “Well them sound like fightin’ words now don’t they.”
Michael slammed his whisky and through it back on bar top. “Put cher dukes up mate. Unless your little candy ass is scared.”
I smiled. I’d trained against both guys for years. Even though I was lighter than they were, I’d taken them both to the ground numerous times and they knew it. I threw my whisky back and signaled to the bartender to bring another.
“I hope you like eating sand,” I said. “Because you’re going to be feasting on it.”
Before we could shadow box, the music hitched, and there was a lull in the constant noise. In that brief second, with the mutter of the club-goers, I heard a woman yell. It almost sounded like a scream, but there was fury mixed with the panic. The three of us scrunched up our faces, a little confused, and nodded at each other. We knew what to do. We headed inside, the three enforcers ready to make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.
The people had formed a circle around a couple, and my blood boiled when I saw who it was.
Crystal and fucking El Toro stood in between everyone. He had grabbed one of her wrists, and she was yelling at him. “Let go, I don’t want to dance with you, creep!”
I slowly stepped up. “Let the girl go,” I said calmly. He glanced at me and then at Michael and Cole who stood behind me. Yeah, we were an even match but three on one was not something a sane man would be interested in attempting. On the other hand, I’d often wondered about Toro. If I was slightly crazy, he was ten points higher on the batshit scale.
He let her go and scoffed. “Really brave of you, coming in here with your pussy ass friends,” he said as he walked past us back into the crowd. I lunged at him, but Michael and Cole grabbed either side of me as I kicked and screamed to get past them.
“Come right the fuck, ye maggot gombeen!” I yelled. My Irish blood was going off. “Let me fucking go!” I yelled at my two buddies. They both increased their vice grip on me.
“Fight him in the ring, not in the goddamn club. Don’t be a bloody eejit,” Cole snarled into my ear.
Fuck that, I was going to rip Toro’s goddamn head off right here. This was the fight. I didn’t need sixty days. We’d settle it right here and now.
I was about to break free when I felt a hand on my back. “Connor,” she said in that sweet, slightly southern accent of hers. My anger melted away at the sound of Crystal’s voice. When I turned around, I forget why the hell it was I’d gotten all angry in the first place.
I’d already fallen for overly-fancy, dressed to the nines Crystal. Then this morning, I’d seen down to earth, cut-off jeans Crystal and my cock had shed a tear when she’d left the house.
Club Crystal, however, took this shit to a whole other level. She wore a strapless black leather dress that left just enough to the imagination. The thing couldn’t contain her generous cleavage, but I ran my eyes over the whole outfit like a fucking dream.
I opened my mouth, but there were no words. Her smile was subtle but sweet. She left me utterly fucking speechless. Michael and Cole finally dropped their grip on me completely when they saw I’d surrendered all my aggression to her.
The music picked up again, and the crowd around us seemed to move on from the commotion that had just happened.
“Thanks,” she said simply.
“I think that deserves a dance. It’s only right,” I replied, finally a little recovered.
“Fine. Just one though.”
I grabbed hold of her hips and brought her body into me. “Just one,” I said loudly, and winked at Michael and Cole. They took the hint and headed back to our spot at the bar, only to get stopped by a couple of groupies before they made it.
Just one my ass. I wasn’t letting go of Crystal until feckin’ closing time.
10 - Crystal
What was it with asshole men? First, there was Toro trying to paw me and not taking no for an answer, and then Connor shows up with his sexy smile and taunting eyes.
I wasn’t some weak damsel in distress, even if Connor made me feel that when he saved me from the Chilean douche. But, the way his eyes darkened
when he caught sight of my outfit made him almost worthy of forgiveness. I’d dressed up just for him, even if I refused to say that aloud, though I almost despaired he’d get a chance to see it.
Damn, I was so messed up emotionally. Half of me wanted nothing to do with Connor McGrath, the other part wanted everything.
I shook out my long hair and tossed it over my shoulder. Connor cozied up to me with his large, scarred hands pinned to my hips. If I’d thought there would be distance between us during this dance, I was mistaken. He hauled me closely, and I gasped as the whole of my body collided against him. He was a rock wall, and I wanted to grind myself into dust against him. Did he feel the way my nipples stiffened into little marbles? How embarrassing. I wasn’t supposed to be getting all worked up over my Irish Neanderthal.
The two guys with him and the entire club, faded away from my perception completely. Connor took up everything, making it seem as if the two of us were in our own world. He swayed me around as if the club music was some tropical melody that was a little slow and a whole lot dirty. I rubbed up against him, following his footwork as he swung me about. I didn’t realize until my heels sunk into the sand that he’d danced us straight out of the patio doors, and onto the beach.
I glanced behind me at the moonlit waves of the Pacific Ocean, and then back into Connor’s intense face.
“What are you doing?” I asked. I tried to sound authoritative, but my voice came out wispy. This fragile, feminine-sounding question that brought forth all the emotions from last night—the good and the bad.
When I was around Connor my body had a mind of its own. It fired up like a kiln ready to make him hard as hell. All it would take would be a whisper, a shameless undulation of my hips, and my fighter would be ready to throw me over his shoulder and carry me off.
Connor’s hands slipped around the leather on my hips, and then got a double grip on my ass. He pulled me tighter, forcing me up to my tip toes, and I felt the answer to my questions. He was half-hard against my pussy, and I ached to have him buried inside of me.
I shuddered.
“I want you, lass,” Connor growled. I loved how his brogue came out when he was in high emotion. Which was pretty often. He wore his mood and emotions all over his sexy body.
I stared up at him. Me and him could be a costly mistake for me considering the rules, let alone my reputation. If word got out that I was fucking my client, the story would be less about Connor’s image, and more about how I was giving him special favors.
The magic of the island and the beach worked on me. All my thoughts and concerns dissolved on the salt-laden air. Connor clutched my hand and led me further down the beach. It didn’t take long until I stopped him, and pulled off my high heels.
Connor grinned at me. “Didn’t I tell you at the airport?”
I laughed up at him. “Yes, but I bet you didn’t think I would be comfortable walking bare foot.”
Connor’s arms wound around me like an anaconda, making me his prey and surprising me as he swung me up into his arms. I squealed and clung to him.
“Who says you need to walk, Princess?”
“Put me down!”
“Not a feckin’ chance,” Connor growled.
I knew the kiss was coming, and God how I burned for it. My body pulsed low, tight, and wet as he lowered his head. “Connor—“
His mouth hovered above mine, only a hair’s breadth kept him from kissing me. If only I stopped talking, then his mouth would be all over mine. “Don’t deny it. I can’t stop thinking about how you sounded as you came for me last night.”
I closed my eyes as his words conjured up the memory. The skills he had with his tongue should be outlawed. I licked my lips. “I don’t want this to be some casual thing where you forget my name once we hit the mainland.” I wasn’t going to deny what I felt for Connor. All of my worry about what my boss would say? All gone. Now, I was trying to guard my heart.
Connor ran his hand up my back and urged me closer. “What I feel for you is far from casual. You know that, you’ve felt it too since the first time we met.”
“You mean when you were trying to fire me?”
“Yes,” he didn’t sound contrite at all. If anything, he smiled wider at me. “Because I knew the trouble you brought with you. You are the best kind of distraction. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to focus with you here. That’s sort of true, but when I know you’re upset, or not near me, it’s even worse.”
I walked my fingers up his shoulders, admiring how broad they were. “I could lose my job if we get involved.”
“Who will tell them?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why do I have a feeling you will say anything right now to get into my panties?”
Connor cupped my ass and rolled my pussy across the huge girth of his cock. I shuddered as the wet squish of my panties clung to my swollen lips.
“This will happen, Princess. Maybe not right now, maybe months down the line. But it will happen. You can pretend you worry, you can pretend you don’t want me, but we both know the truth. You like a little rough in your life.” His breath beat against my cheek as his words pierced my ear.
Damn him for being so right.
“I do want you,” I breathed. “You know I do.”
“I swear I can still taste you. You’re like sugar and I want another taste.”
How was a girl supposed to deny him when he said that stuff? I quaked in his arms and buried my face in the crook of his shoulder. I felt the heat which suffused my skin.
Connor took my silence for approval and hauled me higher in his arms. I wound my legs tightly around his narrow waist, and rode my heels into the backs of his thighs. He carried us down to a secluded section of scrub grass and shadows with only hints of moonlight shining down on us. The one thing about Easter Island I’d noticed was that there weren’t a lot of trees. Maybe because it was created from a volcano, so there wasn’t a lot of places to hide.
Connor spun on his heels and sat down with my thighs spread wide and sitting astride him. I almost lost my mind when his thick prick jutted against my pussy. I wanted to wiggle, rub against his shaft, but we were ignoring the predicament we were in: him rock hard, me slippery wet.
“What do you want, Princess?”
Connor’s whisper surprised me. This was the side of the fighter some rarely saw. In my brief experience with this sport, I’d noticed they were tightly wound, not unlike boxers and professional wrestlers—and I didn’t mean the prima-donnas in the WWE—tended to have serious meltdowns once they lost. I could understand. They spent months, years, of their life for one chance at glory in the ring. Only to have to start all over again if they lost.
Connor had only lost once, and that was when he’d been injured. He had the skill to back up his mouth. So, this emotional, vulnerable side was not often exhibited.
I dropped my Jimmy Choos beside us, and settled with my legs stretched on each side of his lean hips. My heels dug into the prickly, sandy grass. We were as close as two people could be, and it would only take a mild shifting of clothing—unsnapping his jeans, sliding my panties aside—and he would be inside me.
A full-body shudder vibrated my body at the thought.
“I think I know what you want,” he said, filling in the silence where my answer should have been.
I bit my lip, and tried to avoid his searching hazel eyes. His smile was lopsided, and the shadows did his battered face no favors. Still, I found him arresting, and I was powerless to look away.
“What do you think I want, McGrath?” I tried for toughness, attempting to pop this cocoon of intimacy he wove around me with his mysterious words and moonlit-soaked night. What girl wouldn’t have her head turned by having an ocean-side rendezvous on a tropical island?
“You want me to make you my girl.” He said it so casual, but without any of his dickish flair, that I knew that it wasn’t me who wanted this.
I swallowed hard. My throat had suddenly become an arid desert
.
“You’re not the settling kind.”
His scarred brow twitched. “Who says?”
“You did in quite a few of your interviews.”
“Are you checking up on me, Princess?” His hands turned into iron bars on my hips, and I was crushed against this prime piece of Grade-A Irish beef.
“You know it’s my job.”
“Maybe. Are we hiding behind your job again, Princess? Where were thoughts of your job when you were writhing against my face and screaming my name?”
I struggled in his arms, hating his arrogance and blushing all over again at a reminder of what we’d done together.
He didn’t let me go. He flipped me easily, and I found myself flat on my back with Connor above me, and the moon silvering him like some lunar God.
I quivered and spread my thighs around his hips. He settled against me, and rocked in deep, stroking my pussy through two layers of fabric.
“I hate you right now,” I whispered.
His head dipped. “No, you don’t. You want me, you crave me. Maybe you love me a little bit, but you don’t hate me.”
God, he was so perceptive. I squeezed my eyes shut and twisted my head, trying to hide what I felt for him. Maybe I just needed to get him out from beneath my skin. We had forty-something days to screw like rabbits.
Except, I knew myself. If I let Connor inside me, he would be all the way, from my pussy to my heart in one rough thrust.
He curved his calloused fingers on my chin and forced my head back around. “Don’t hide from me, open your eyes Crystal.”
His order rubbed over every inch of my exposed skin, and I glanced up at him through my lashes.
“Good girl,” he whispered, and I was undone.
I laced my hands around his neck, dug my long nails into his faux-hawk, and yanked him down to me. We had done enough talking. I didn’t want to think about what a huge mistake this could be. I wanted Connor. I might just be a little bit in love with him, and would hate myself if I didn’t have him.
Fantasy Island Page 9
