Combative Trilogy

by McLean, Jay

  I’m desperate.

  Too desperate.

  Holding her tighter, I bite the cup of her bra and pull the material away. She moans before dropping her hands to her sides, letting the straps fall.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, cupping both of her phenomenal, bare tits in my hands. Her eyes close—her back arches, pushing her breasts firmer against my palms. I remove a hand and replace it with my mouth. Her fingers grip my hair, her hips slowly thrusting as I kiss her breasts, alternating from one to the other. Licking, sucking, biting gently.

  “Holy shit, Ky, you feel so fu—” I grab her ass, cutting her off and causing her to yank at my shirt, trying desperately to remove it. I pull away just long enough to do it for her, and then I go back to my task. Heaven. She feels like fucking heaven—in my hands, on my face, in my mouth. My cock throbs, urging for a release. I move my hands to her ass, around her hips to the front of her panties. My fingers dip between her thighs and I growl against her nipple, pulling back slightly so I can focus on the wetness I feel through the lace. I look up at her face, but her head’s tilted back, her eyes closed, her lower lip trembling with each exhale. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Maddy.”

  Her eyes snap open, and she looks down at me. Her tits are practically bouncing with the strength of her breaths. Her gaze drops to my crotch, where my hardness tents the denim. “Off,” she orders.

  I do as she says, and once I’ve kicked off my jeans, I look back up at her. “All of it, Ky.”

  I shake my head. “You first.”

  She leans down, taking my bottom lip between her teeth. “Off,” she repeats, pushing her tongue against mine. Her hands flatten on my thighs, creeping higher, higher, higher until they land—

  “Fuck, Madison.”

  Her fingers circle my dick through my boxers, and she strokes me once.

  “You keep going and I’m going to come before we get started.”

  Her gaze lifts, peering at me through her lashes before a slow, perfect smile pulls on her lips and she stands straighter. “Fine,” she whispers, her thumbs running along the waistband of her panties. “Me first, then.”

  I cover my hard-on, trying to control it somehow, while she makes a show of pushing her underwear down. I’m panting now, unable to control my breathing.

  She pushes further—just an inch. And then she stops, one hand reaching for the lamp.

  I grab her wrist, and I shake my head when her eyes meet mine. “No. I want to see you. All of you.” I sit up on the bed and move to the middle, pulling on her arm until she joins me. We sit on our knees, almost naked, watching each other and taking in every curve, every dip, every inch of exposed skin. Her fingers press against my stomach, but her eyes stay on mine. I lean down to kiss her waiting lips, and instantly, the room fills with the sounds of our tongues lashing, of our mouths moving and of our moans of pleasure. She moves her hand lower until it brushes against my cock, causing it to twitch in her hand. Her mouth curls against mine as she tugs at my boxers, finally freeing my hardness. The warmth of her hand as it circles my length has my breath catching. Her hand moves slowly, all the way up and then all the way down, pausing for a moment to run her thumb across the tip. “Fuck.”

  I move a hand down her neck, her chest, slowing a beat to appreciate her perfect tits. Then I continue, lower again, past her stomach, only stopping when I feel the warmth of her sex against my palm. I use my other hand to push her panties down her thighs, reveling in the feeling of her naked pussy in my hand. She moans again, squeezing me tighter while I run a finger between her slit until I find the source of her wetness. Her head falls back, and my mouth instinctively finds her nipple as I press a finger into her.

  She moves faster, more determined, and I’m so close to the edge, but like she said—her first.

  I try to ignore how she’s making me feel and wrap my arm around her waist, holding her in place. Then I remove my finger, replace it with two, all the while circling her clit with my thumb, and she thrusts against my hand. “Aah!”

  Her hand works faster. “Fuck, Maddy,” I moan through gritted teeth.

  “Ky, please don’t stop!”

  My tongue laps at her nipples, my fingers finding the same rhythm as her thrusts.

  “Ky, I’m…”

  I close my eyes, trying to hold off.

  “Shit… Ky!”

  She tightens around my fingers, her body shuddering beneath my touch.

  She comes around my fingers.

  I come on her stomach.

  She kisses me until every last drop’s expelled.

  We stay silent, our chests rising and falling as we try to catch our breaths. “That was…” she whispers.

  “Breathtaking,” I finish for her.

  She laughs and releases me. I do the same. Then she looks down at her stomach and the mess that I’ve made. “Shower?” she asks. “And then you have to stay the night. You can’t give a girl a world-shattering orgasm and just leave.”

  * * *

  People do crazy things when they feel like the clock is ticking too fast, or too slow, or not ticking at all.

  Chapter 17

  Dr. Aroma smirks, eyeing me while she kicks her foot back and forth. “How’s that self-pleasuring going for you?”

  I laugh once. “I’m getting a little help in that department, actually.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I mean we’re not sleeping together, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “That’s not the be-all and end-all of a relationship, though.”

  “Hey now… I didn’t say anything about a relationship.”

  She smiles. “Well, let me ask you a question then.”

  “Sure.”

  “Would it hurt you to lose her?”

  I shrug, even though I know the truth. “Maybe,” I lie.

  Her smile widens. “Maybe it’s a good thing—you and her. Maybe it’s a start.”

  “A start to what?”

  “To you realizing that your existence isn’t worthless—that you have something to lose. And maybe it starts with her, but it doesn’t have to end there, Ky. You have a lot to lose. You just don’t know it yet.”

  You know what’s better than waking up in bed with Madison? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing.

  She rolls over and lazily throws her arm over my stomach when my alarm goes off. “Make it stop.”

  I sit up, looking around her dim bedroom for my phone. “Where the hell is my phone?”

  “Ignore it.”

  I finally find the flashing light of my phone in the pocket of my jeans, discarded on the floor from last night. “I need to go train.”

  She wraps both arms around me now, pulling me back down. “Skip it,” she mumbles, her eyes still closed.

  I kiss her quickly. “I can’t,” I tell her, smiling when she grunts in response. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Your place or mine?”

  She murmurs, her face half smeared into the pillow, “We’ll find each other. We always do.”

  “So here’s what you need to do,” Jax says. I’d called him on the way to the gym because he said he had a plan. “Drop your phone on the table next to his when you get a chance and just accidentally pick up his and go through it.”

  I laugh. “That’s your fucking plan?”

  “Dude. I can’t get authorization on anything here. The guys in the precinct—they kind of hate me.”

  That gets my attention. “What do you mean they hate you? Are they causing shit for you?”

  “Calm down, Captain Combative. I’m a big boy now. I can take care of myself.”

  The tension leaves my shoulders.

  He adds, “It’s just that I’m young—the youngest who’s ever made detective. And all the old timers—even sarge—they don’t want to listen to a punk like me.”

  “That’s… fair, I guess.”

  “I know DeLuca’s there at the moment, and you said you guys had the same phone, so just try it. What harm can it do?”

  “He c
ould kick my ass.”

  “You can take it.”

  “This is a shit plan, Jax.”

  “Just try. That’s all I’m asking.”

  * * *

  I step into the gym and bump fists with Tiny, who’s standing next to the door. I eye him up and down. “You’re here a lot. Ever think of maybe doing more than just standing at the door?” I tap his stomach with the back of my hand.

  He hides his smile.

  “Seriously, though,” I joke. “You could stand to lose a few.”

  He runs his hands down his gut, a slow smirk pulling on his lips. “And get rid of the lady magnet?” He releases a chuckle from deep in his throat. “The ladies love it! More bounce per ounce.”

  I chuckle. “More fun per ton.”

  He lets out an all-consuming laugh that has his entire body jiggling.

  “Yo,” I start, then look behind me at DeLuca sitting at his regular table, phone and laptop in front of him. I turn back to Tiny. “You want to grab some burgers after this?”

  His eyes widen and he licks his lips.

  “Tiny!” DeLuca shouts, and we both face him. He’s on his feet now, shaking his head at Tiny. He looks pissed and that makes me happy—because I’m getting to him, right in his head.

  “Nah, bro,” Tiny says. “Can’t mix business with pleasure.”

  I nod once. “Got it,” I say, moving from him to DeLuca. “Sorry, man,” I lie. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.” I glance down at his phone sitting on the table, unlocked and on the home screen. I point to Tiny, hoping his gaze will follow. When it does, I drop my phone next to his. “I’m just trying to entertain him, you know? He seems like a good guy.”

  DeLuca clears his throat before looking up at me. “He is a good guy. He’s also my guy.”

  “Like I said—”

  “Yo, Boss Man!” Tiny calls out. “You have a visitor.” He jerks his head to a blonde standing by the door.

  DeLuca swears under his breath and pushes off the seat before making his way over to her.

  Perfect.

  I turn my back, blocking them from seeing my his phone now in my hand. I peek over my shoulder—but DeLuca and Blondie are deep in heated whispers.

  The home screen on his phone is in another language, so I tap the phone icon and go to recent calls. All the names are numbers, like a code of some kind, and that’s as far as I get before I hear DeLuca yell, “Just tell her to fuck off next time!”

  I drop the phone back on the table and swiftly make my way to the row of chairs against the back wall. I’ve just stripped off my shirt when DeLuca speaks from behind me. “A word, Parker?” I turn to him—but his expression, just like his words, is calm.

  Too fucking calm.

  He jerks his head toward the change room and doesn’t wait for my response; he simply leads me to the room. Once we’re both in and the door is locked, I’m pinned to the wall, his forearm against my throat. “How fucking stupid do you think I am?”

  I try to push him away.

  He presses harder, cutting off air to my lungs.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I stammer.

  He doesn’t reply, but his punch right to my fucking mouth says it all. I use all my strength to push off the wall and into him, my fist around his shirt, shoving him until his back hits a set of lockers. “Don’t fucking touch me again.”

  He smiles, this sinister fucking smile that does nothing more than build my rage. My free hands form a fist, ready to pay back his assault.

  But he’s fast.

  Too fucking fast.

  Again.

  I don’t even notice him pull the gun from his back, don’t even know he has it, until it makes contact with my chin. “Don’t. Touch. My. Shit. Ever.”

  “Fuck you!”

  He presses the gun firmer into me.

  I hold my ground.

  The door bursts open.

  “What the fuck!” I’d never seen a fat cunt move so fast. “Let it go, man,” Tiny says to DeLuca, pulling him off me.

  DeLuca drops his hand and takes a step back, his eyes on mine. “Get the car, Tiny.” He looks me up and down with that same fucking calm in his eyes. “I’m done here.”

  Chapter 18

  Sara: What are you doing?

  Madison: Walking.

  Sara: On your own?

  Sara: You there?

  I fight a war in my head, trying to work out what to reveal to Jackson and what to keep to myself. I decide on the facts that are of interest to the case and nothing else. The personal vendetta I have on DeLuca is exactly that—personal. I tell him about DeLuca’s phone and the numbered codes, and I tell him about it being set to a different language. “What language?” he asks.

  I stop and lean against a building on the way home from the gym. “I can’t be sure. DeLuca… sounds Italian, right? Maybe it’s that.”

  “Maybe. Thanks for getting that info. Doesn’t really help much, though.”

  “Sorry, man. I’ll keep trying.”

  “It’s all we can do. Keep me in the loop on everything.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Everything, Ky. I mean it.”

  Madison jumps up from the seat in the foyer when I enter the building. I wish it were one of those times when seeing her would make me forget everything else. Unfortunately, it isn’t. And I can lie to her… lie to Jax, even. But I can’t lie to myself. “Morning, Kyler,” she coos, sauntering toward me. She curls her arm around my neck and leans up for a kiss, but she stops halfway, pouting as she runs her thumb across the cut on my lip.

  I rear back and push her hand away, taking in her frown as I mumble an apology.

  “I take it it wasn’t a good session?” she asks.

  I swing my gym bag behind me and wrap my arms around her waist. “Sucked. I just wanted to be back in bed with you.”

  “So you missed me, huh?”

  “Always.”

  She jerks her head toward the mailboxes. “Are you going to you check your mail today?

  There might be a surprise… you know… other than bills or credit card applications.”

  I spin on my heels and move toward the boxes. Over my shoulder I say, “How did you get into my mailbox?”

  She follows, stopping next to me as I turn the key. “Frank,” she says.

  “Who the hell’s Frank?”

  “Jeez, Ky. You don’t know the maintenance guy?”

  I shake my head while I open the box, my breath halting when I take sight of the single pink rose.

  “Debbie said it was the color for thankfulness.”

  I pull out the flower and pretend to examine it, but my mind’s reeling. “When did you see Debbie?”

  “This morning while you were at the gym.”

  I glance up at her. “You went out on your own?”

  She nods proudly. “Yup!”

  “By yourself?”

  Another nod.

  “And your anxiety?”

  “Not so bad.” She shrugs. “It was worth it. I just wanted to find a way to show you how I feel about you.”

  “You’re thankful?”

  “For you, Ky. Yes. I’m thankful.”

  Slumping down on the couch, I start to unwrap the tape from around my fingers. Morning sessions at the gym focus on martial arts. Gunner and I spent most of the time sparring in the cage while he taught me different moves: defense and offense. Gunner knows a hell of a lot more about skilled martial arts. Me? I kind of just like to punch things. So far, that’s been enough. But if I want to get DeLuca, I need time. Which means that I need to make it through my first fight. So, I need the training. And that means I need Gunner. Still, knowing how to fight in the ring doesn’t save me from a fucking bullet through my head.

  I need to start carrying.

  * * *

  “I’ll do it, babe,” Madison says, pulling me from my thoughts. She sits next to me and covers my hands with hers, then carefully flips my hand, palm up, her brow bunching as she insp
ects it. “Does it hurt?”

  “No. It’s not injury tape,” I say. “It’s just precautionary.”

  Her jaw works as she slowly removes the tape from each finger. I sigh, unable to remember the last time someone’s held my hand or has been this gentle with me. I kiss the top of her head, breathing her in.

  “What was that for?” she asks, lifting her gaze.

  “It just feels good to be cared for, you know?”

  She quickly looks away and refocuses on my other hand. “Yeah. I do know.”

  * * *

  We go to the dollar store and get her another frame. Then we end up having lunch at a random diner Debbie told her about this morning. When I ask for the bill, the waitress tells me that it’s taken care of and sets a note on the table in front of me. I manage to read it quickly before Madison reaches over and pulls it from under my nose. “Thank you for your service,” she reads out loud.

  Looking down at myself, I try to work out how someone would know. I kick myself for not realizing I’m wearing my Army PT shirt. Sighing, I hide my dog tags behind my shirt and look up at the waitress. “Who did this?”

  The waitress just shrugs. “They wanted to remain anonymous, but they’ve already left.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “Thank you.”

  I’m quiet on the way home. So is Maddy. I know she wants to say something because she starts a few times, only to stop and drop her gaze. I hold on to her hand tighter so she understands that I’m not upset at her. I’m just upset.

  Once we’re in her apartment, she orders me to sit on the floor in front of the couch while she sits behind me, her legs wrapped around my torso and her hands massaging my shoulders. I stretch my neck, welcoming her touch. “I needed this,” I tell her. My body was starting to feel the effects of the rigorous training and lack of actual rest. When I’m not at the gym, I’m with her, which means a lot of walking. The only time I get to sit down is during meals and, clearly, that isn’t enough.