by Jessica Ashe
“Why do I feel hungover?” I asked.
I tried to sit up, but I collapsed back down in agony as my back teared open.
“Stay still,” Alison commanded. “You’ll rip your stitches. You feel hungover because… because I think you were drugged.”
“Drugged? I’d have had sex with you voluntarily.”
Alison slapped me on the chest, but I heard her laugh as well. “Good to see you still have a sense of humor.”
“Wait, who drugged me?”
“I don’t know, but I think we can take an educated guess.”
“Tyler Young?”
Alison nodded. “It must have happened early on in the fight or just before. You started to look tired, and eventually you could barely move.”
I reluctantly closed my eyes, losing the view of Alison in her panties, and thought back to the night of the fight.
“The guy with the drink,” I said. “I knew something wasn’t right. His accent was weird, and I couldn’t place it. I guess he was an American doing an English accent. Must have been part of Tyler’s crew.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He said something about supporting the British football team.”
“What’s so weird about that?”
“There isn’t a British football team. England, Scotland, and Wales play as separate countries. How did I not notice that? I must have lived in America for too long. I assume Tyler is responsible for this cut on my back as well?”
“Yeah. I should have stopped him. I saw his coach fiddling with the pad, but I didn’t know what he was going to do. I think they slipped a blade through the padding when you crashed against it.”
“Not picked up on cameras I assume?”
Alison shook her head. “I think that was a blind spot.” She let out a low growl and then cursed. “That cheating piece of shit.”
I looked at her with raised eyebrows. “I’ve never heard you swear like that before.”
“I just can’t believe he’s gotten away with this. I wish you’d killed him.”
“No you don’t. And if you think I’m going to let him get away with this, then you’re very much mistaken.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to fight him. Fair and square. And he’s going to lose.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Alison
Elliot never had been the type to listen to doctor’s orders, and apparently that applied even when he was sleeping with the doctor in question.
The aftereffects of the drug had worn off, but the wound on his back still needed time to heal. The blade hadn’t gone in that deep, but if he kept tearing open the wound it would end up getting infected.
Elliot didn’t care. He was a man on a mission, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. My pleas fell on deaf ears, and no amount of strutting around the hotel room in sexy undies could keep him at home.
Last night he’d snuck out and gone back to the O2 Arena on the off-chance of finding the bottle he’d drunk out of the night of the fight. Not surprisingly, he came back empty handed, although he did confirm his suspicion that the man who gave it to him wasn’t a member of staff.
Tyler Young had quite the operation going. Not content with drugging Elliot, he had to get a knife into his back as well. No wonder he was the undefeated champion.
Elliot had disappeared again tonight, and all he’d told me was “I’m going to find him and destroy him.”
I let him go. There’d have been no stopping him anyway. Not when he was in that mood. I only hoped that Tyler had been sensible enough to get on the first plane back to America.
I should have known that sensible and Tyler didn’t go together.
News reports flooded in of Tyler being seen celebrating his victory in some of London’s most exclusive drinking establishments. He’d been on a two-day bender, no doubt fueled by coke and God only knew what else.
I scoured Twitter for mention of Tyler Young’s name, and found multiple mentions of him showing up at Bar 101. Elliot might not be a huge fan of social media, but he knew how to use it for his own ends. If I could find Tyler, then so could Elliot.
I grabbed a jacket and hailed a cab to take me to Bar 101. Whatever Elliot had planned, it was about to happen in front of hundreds of camera phones.
I had to stop him.
* * *
Guys like Elliot found it difficult to blend in, even when wearing a sweater with the hood up covering most of his face. I watched as he walked up to the bar, only to be told by the doorman to lower the hood and show his face.
The second he did that, girls in the line outside started screaming his name, and trying to take his picture. The doorman recognized him as well and let him straight inside.
I shouted Elliot’s name, but he either didn’t hear me or was just ignoring me. I knew he wouldn’t want me around for this, but I had to stop him before he did something he’d regret.
“Get to the back of the queue, Miss,” the doorman said, blocking me with an arm even thicker than Elliot’s.
“I’m with Elliot Michaels,” I replied frantically. You really should let me in before all hell breaks loose, I didn’t add. I still hoped to end this without causing a scene.
“Sure you are. Back of the line.”
I fished around in my purse and found the ID that I’d been given on the night of the fight. It had my picture on it, together with a few holograms, and a UFC logo.
“Oh, sorry, Miss Harvey. You’re his doctor?”
“Yes,” I replied, taking back the ID. Then I added “and his girlfriend.” For now, at least.
The doorman shrugged his shoulders and stood aside to let me through. Now there was just the small matter of finding Elliot.
The bar was packed, dark, loud, and smelly. It reminded me a lot of the place Nora used to work at, except it somehow managed to be all those things but also expensive looking at the same time.
I started by looking for Elliot, but then changed track and just looked for Tyler. That’s where Elliot would be heading after all.
I couldn’t move a foot on the lower floor without standing in broken glass or having to push someone out of the way. Often both. He wouldn’t be down here.
Upstairs was quieter. There were tables, and actual gaps to stand in without being molested by stray hands. Above that there was another floor that looked empty, except for a few men standing around the edge looking outward.
That had to be a VIP area. That’s where I’d find Tyler, and that’s where Elliot would be heading.
I ran up two flights of stairs, and then just followed the scene of frantic security guards who were trying—and failing—to drag Elliot back.
By the time I caught up to him, he’d reached the table where Tyler sat surrounded by beautiful young women who were all gazing longingly at the heavy metal belt around his waist.
He was wearing the UFC Championship belt. Just when I thought it wasn’t possible to hate this guy any more, I found additional reserves of anger from deep within that caused me to clench my fists and grind my teeth.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Tyler asked, as Elliot approached the table. He stood up and looked ready to fight, but Elliot stopped with the table separating the two of them.
“I came to London for a fair fight,” Elliot snarled. “I haven’t had that yet.”
Security tried to drag Elliot away, but Tyler motioned for them to stand down. Not that they would have had an easy time of it anyway.
“You took some heavy blows to the head the other night,” Tyler said. “I think that’s impaired your thinking. Perhaps you should have your doctor check you out.”
Tyler nodded towards me, and Elliot turned to look. I smiled awkwardly at Elliot, although he didn’t exactly look pleased to see me.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “I don’t want you to see what happens next.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to see that. That’s why I’m here.
To stop you.”
“This is all very touching,” Tyler said, “but this is a private party. Only UFC champions and invited guests may attend. Are you a UFC champion Elliot? Remind me how that fight went.”
“Memory’s a little foggy,” Elliot admitted. “What with all the drugs you pumped into me.”
“Are you admitting to consuming drugs, Elliot?” Tyler said mockingly. “I do hope you aren’t subjected to any random drug tests soon.”
“I’ll just do what you do and pay someone off,” Elliot said.
“Have you just come here to make wild accusations all night?” Tyler asked. “If so, I’m going to need another drink.”
“No, you’re right,” Elliot said. “That’s not why I’m here. I came here to apologize.”
Elliot wasn’t the apologizing type, and his body language made it clear exactly what he intended to do here. A crowd started forming around the two men, as people worked out that they were about to get a championship rematch and they had front row seats.
“Apologize for what?” Tyler asked with a frown.
“For punching you below the belt.”
“You never punched me below the belt,” Tyler replied.
“No, I didn’t. But I’m going to.”
Elliot reached out and grabbed hold of Tyler’s shirt, before yanking him forward over the table. The girls around the table all stood up and screamed, as Tyler’s body sent the drinks flying before he landed on the floor surrounded by bottles and glasses.
Tyler immediately went to grab one of the broken bottles, but Elliot stood on his wrist and then bent down to pick him up.
“This is going to be a fair fight. No drugs, and no knives. Just our fists.”
“I don’t need weapons to beat you,” Tyler yelled, before spitting on the floor. “I just do that because it’s fun.”
Elliot wiped the smile off his face with the swift punch to the balls that he’d promised. Tyler buckled under the punch, his eyes watering with pain, as he tried to fall away from Elliot and buy himself some time.
No such luck.
Elliot kicked him in the stomach—just above the large metal belt still around his waist—and then grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to his feet.
“Fine,” Tyler spat. “You want a fight, you’ve got one. Don’t say I didn’t—”
Warn you? That had probably been the intended sentiment, but I never heard it because Elliot’s fist slammed into Tyler’s mouth.
The fight between these two had been brutal enough the last time, but now they were at it with bare fists. I heard a bone break as Elliot sent another punch flying into Tyler’s mouth, although whether the bone was in Elliot’s fist or Tyler’s face I couldn’t tell.
Elliot destroyed him. It wasn’t even close, although Tyler had been taken by surprise. Not that I had an ounce of sympathy for him. The man deserved what he was getting, but he didn’t deserve death.
I tried to grab Elliot’s arm, but I might as well have tried to pull back a moving car. “Elliot, stop,” I yelled.
“I’m not done yet,” he snarled. “I told you, I came here to do one thing, and I’m going to see that through.”
The crowd had been watching excitedly—many of them through the screens of their phones—but they all stepped back in unison when Elliot pulled a knife from his sweater.
“Elliot, no,” I yelled helplessly.
“I’m doing what’s right,” Elliot said. “After what he did to both of us, he deserves this.”
“Yes, okay, he’s a piece of shit,” I agreed. “But I don’t want you to do it. Don’t ruin your life because of him.”
Elliot stared at me for a few seconds. There was doubt in his eyes, but it disappeared with a vigorous shake of the head.
“I’m doing it,” he replied.
He turned back to Tyler, held the knife high in the air, and slammed it down into Tyler’s gut.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Elliot
It was a shame to put a mark in the leather surrounding the metal of the UFC Championship belt, but I wanted to see a look of true fear in his eyes. He needed to think he was going to die.
From the scream that left his mouth, you’d be forgiven for thinking I had killed him and his body had been possessed by a demon.
No one in the crowd made any effort to stop me, which spoke volumes for his popularity. I’d wager there were even a few in the crowd who wanted him dead as much as I did.
I pulled the knife out of the leather and used it to undo the fastener keeping the belt around his waist.
“You don’t deserve this,” I said, looking down on the pathetic waster at my feet.
I looked back to see Alison smiling at me, and remembered I had somewhere I’d much rather be.
“Ever want to get fucked by a UFC champ?” I asked Alison.
“It’s one of my main goals in life,” she replied, as she gently rubbed her fingers over the belt. She might hate MMA and the violence that came with it, but no woman could resist such an obvious sign of success.
And now we were taking it back to our hotel room.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Alison
The large UFC Championship belt that covered his abs represented everything I supposedly hated. It stood for violence and hatred. It looked tacky as hell, and it covered one of my favorite parts of Elliot’s body.
And yet I made him keep it on.
It also stood for power, aggression, and passion. Just what I wanted right now.
“Take off that robe,” Elliot commanded, as he stood by the bed, naked except for the UFC belt and a condom on his penis.
I slowly opened the robe and let it drop down to the floor. A shiver ran down my spine, and sparked off a fire between my legs. I’d been naked with Elliot just a few minutes ago and yet it still felt like the first time.
Elliot sat on the bed casually, as if he didn’t have a rock hard nine-inch penis just waiting for me to climb on top of. I saw no reason to keep him waiting.
He reached out a hand to touch me between the legs, but I pushed it away. “I’m already dripping,” I said, placing a leg either side of his. “I’ve been wet ever since you tore that belt off Tyler’s waist.”
“I’ve been hard for so long, I’m starting to wonder whether I’ve been drugged again.”
I smiled, as I reached down and grabbed his cock, giving it a few long, slow strokes. “There are some benefits to being able to write prescriptions,” I said.
Elliot nibbled on my ear lobe, breath from his nose tickling my ear, as I guided his shaft towards my entrance. Just having the tip between my legs was enough to get my knees shaking in anticipation, as I felt a drop of my own excitement trickle down the inside of my thigh. God, I needed this. It had been nearly an hour since the last time.
I dropped down on his cock, letting out a loud moan as the entire length plunged into me, immediately bringing me to the edge when we’d barely started.
The belt pressed against my belly when I leaned forward to kiss him, the cold metal contrasting with the heat building to an inferno inside me. When I sat up, I saw a reflection of my pussy gleaming in the belt, as my lips stretched open wide to accommodate his girth.
“You know what,” Elliot whispered into my ear. “I really love this fucking belt.”
“That’s great darling,” I replied with heavy breath. He really wanted to talk about the belt now?
“However, as much as I love the belt,” he continued. “I love you more.”
I stopped rocking on his cock, and just sat there staring into his eyes, content with his cock completely filling me. He loved me more than the belt? That meant he must love me, right?
“I love you more than the belt too,” I replied.
Elliot laughed. His hands squeezed both my breasts, pinching both nipples simultaneously. “That’s not really saying a lot.”
“Okay then. I love you this much.” I swung my hips forward hard on his groin, rocking back and forth, agg
ressively forcing his cock to rub against the sensitive wall at the front of my tunnel.
“I want you to know that,” Elliot said.
“Why?” I asked. One word at a time was about all I could manage now. Elliot still looked calm, but I was close. So very close.
“I want you to know, because what I’m about to do might not be considered loving?”
“What do you—”
Elliot lifted me off his cock and threw me down onto the bed. I landed on my stomach, but before I could flip over, Elliot had grabbed me by the hips and lifted my ass into the air. My sex presented itself to him, wet, and desperate to be filled.
Elliot happily obliged. His strong hands, pulled my ass towards him as his cock slipped back into me. I let out a low groan into the pillow, until Elliot grabbed hold of my hair and yanked my head into the air. My scream echoed off the walls and woke up anyone trying to sleep on this floor.
I felt his breath on the back of my neck, as he leaned close and whispered in my ear. “How do you feel about a little spanking?”
The word ‘spanking’ sounded inappropriately gentle in his soft English accent. I hoped I never got used to it.
“Do it,” I replied. I was so close to going over the edge, it didn’t matter what he did at this point. I was going to come and it was going to happen soon.
He let go of my hair, and dug his fingers into my ass, massaging it firmly, before lifting one hand away and bringing it down gently on my right cheek.
I gasped in shock, and pushed my ass against his groin, getting his cock even deeper into me. The spanking hadn’t been hard, but it stung a little.
He gave me another gentle slap on the left cheek this time. This time I was expecting it. I groaned deeply as his hand hit my flesh, and lifted my head up into the air. So close. I was so close.
“Screw the spanking,” Elliot said. “I can’t hold back any longer.”
