Blood & Fists: Bare-knuckle Series #1

by Marie Deveraux

  He bit her lip as his hands roamed, gripping her breasts and ass. Their eyes met. His body was tense with lust and desire. His hard on torturing him, wanting to be free.

  “Get on your knees.”

  He stroked her blonde hair as she did so. She pulled out her ponytail, letting her long wavy hair fall. Holding her breath, she looked up at him. He undid his belt, unzipped his pants and tugged his erection free. She bit her lip, eyes dancing as she moved her hands up his legs, building both of their anticipations.

  He shifted, spreading his legs as wide as the seat would allow, giving her the room she needed as she settled between his legs. He leaned his head back on the headrest but kept his eyes focused on her. He was hard as a rock and the head of his cock was swollen. Precum glistened at the swollen tip. Olivia moaned as she wet her lips with his sticky precum before roaming her tongue down his shaft.

  He licked his lips and moaned, “Holy fuck.”

  Her eyes danced playfully as she enjoyed that response from him. She teased his cock with her wet lips while she cupped his balls. He bucked his hips, pressing his lips together. She gave them a tighter squeeze that made him growl. Stroking her hair, he placed his other hand on her neck and pulled her up to his lips. She was panting as their lips slammed on to each other. Groaning, she dug her fingernails into his forearm.

  Putting his lips to her ear, he whispered, “I’m going fuck your mouth and you're not going to swallow. Ok?”

  She nodded and grabbed his cock as she moved back between his legs. She looked up at him as she moved her tongue all over his cock and balls. Giving him a sly smile, she put him all the way in her mouth. So wet. She watched as he bit his lip to stifle his moan. She took his hand, the Celtic tattoo flashing in front on her eyes.

  With his hand on top of hers she helped show him what she wanted him to do. She wanted a face fuck. Hard and fast. She relaxed her jaw just as he began to thrust. In a matter of seconds, his hip thrusts became faster and faster. Olivia used her free hand to grip his cock and stroke him slowly.

  She ached to cum. She was so wet, she had to touch herself. She was moving her hips in sync with his thrusts. Peter moaned and grunted. His primal sounds made goosebumps break out all over her body and her desire to cum skyrocket. This was torture and she wanted release. She needed release. She moved the hand that was stroking him down to her pants. He placed his free hand on the back of her neck, drawing her attention towards his face.

  “Go ahead. I want to watch you fuck yourself.”

  With one hand, she pushed her pants down, hiding just enough to make him want to see more. He sucked in a breath as he saw that she was shaved bare. Peter’s hips slowed as he watched her fingers push inside her black panties. She stroked her clit, feeling her wet lips and teasing her entrance. He pulled himself almost all the way out of her mouth, his swollen head thrusting lightly against her lips. She kissed and teased his head and she matched her clit strokes with his thrusts.

  His voice was heavy as he whispered, “Show me. Goddamn. Show me how wet you are.”

  She took three fingers and plunged them inside her, going all the way to her knuckles. “Fuck,” she moaned against him. She pushed her fingers in and out her pussy and held them up towards him. He grabbed her hand and brought her wet fingers to his nose and smelled her scent. His eyes grew heavy and he smiled with pleasure.

  “Mmmmmm.” He grabbed two of her fingers and put them into his mouth, sucking and licking.

  “You taste like heaven,” he growled as he kissed her fingers before giving her hand back to her. Olivia watched him and shuddered. Her fingers moved back to touching herself. He stroked her head as he nudged her to take him in his mouth again.

  “You're close aren't you?” he groaned as he resumed thrusting his hips. She nodded, her muscles tightening as she began to feel the edges of the orgasm start to burn.

  “Moan against my dick, I want to feel you cum baby.”

  Her eyes never left his as she sucked in breaths through her nose and started moaning as he thrusted faster into her mouth. Her eyes watered with the intensity, as she moved her fingers inside her while thumbing her clit. She ground her hips, moaning louder against him.

  “Fuck yes, cum for me.” She clamped around her fingers and road the orgasm. Shaking, moaning, and grinding. She blinked a few times as she let her eyes water. She watched as he tossed his head back and growled, “Fuck!”

  His warm liquid filled her mouth. So warm and so thick. She closed her eyes, savoring his taste. She milked his cock as he came back down to Earth. She pulled her fingers out of herself and wiped them on her pants. Her body relaxed as he pulled out of her mouth. Keeping his cum in her mouth she looked up at him expectantly.

  Zipping himself back inside his suit pants, Peter grabbed her and pulled her up to him. He pressed his lips greedily against hers. Olivia gripped his shirt as he pushed his tongue in, allowing him to taste his cum on her tongue and all over her lips. Smearing his cum between their lips only made them cling to each other more, their urgent desire returning. He grabbed her ass as she ground against his body. They broke apart panting.

  Pressing her forehead against his, she grinned, “That was …”

  “Intense.”

  5

  “I'm starving,” she moaned as he buried his face in her neck, kissing and teasing her. Peter smiled against her neck, “I just fed you, honey.” She winked at him and whispered, “I have an unquenchable appetite. Don't make me starve, blondie.” Kissing her neck, his beard tickling her skin, he gave her ass a squeeze before moving towards the back of the jet. There was a small stainless steel fridge and mini pantry with granola and snacks in a corner near a tiny unisex bathroom.

  “Bathroom is right here if you need it,” he said pointing to the narrow door as he opened the fridge.

  Rubbing her face, Olivia stood up and walked towards the bathroom. A jolt of turbulence shook the cabin causing Olivia to trip and grab Peter to steady herself. He grabbed her waist, Peter laughed, “I got you.” Olivia gave him a half-smile, “Thank you.” Olivia moved around Peter towards the bathroom, tracing her hand along his back. Closing the bathroom door behind her, Olivia turned on the little faucet and splashed water on her face and arms. She really needed a hot shower after last night and this morning.

  She stared at herself for awhile in the mirror, letting the water drip down her chin. Another tremor of turbulence shook the jet’s cabin. Olivia wiped her face with a towel that was hanging nearby. Her eyes turned cold as she muttered, “Livvy, you know what your doing.” She stuck her tongue out at herself and opened the door.

  His eyes surveyed her as she stepped out of the tiny bathroom. Peter buckled in and nodded towards the fridge and pantry, tossing some granola into his mouth. Olivia grabbed a water and two tiny boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. She stopped and pulled her olive green hoodie out of her bag on her way back to her seat. Setting her cereal and water down, she put on her hoodie before sitting down.

  She felt a crinkle in her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Taking a drink of water, she looked at her handwriting. Olivia's eyes read the small Japanese characters and scribbles. Peter watched her with a curious expression on his face as he opened a can of carbonated seltzer water.

  She looked over at him, smirking as she shoved it back into her pocket, “It's my grocery list.”

  He looked away, unable to meet her eyes, “Oh.”

  Touching his hand, she looked at him. Her fingers traced the black and green Celtic knot as she waited for him to meet her eyes. Peter watched her fingers trace the knot’s pattern.

  “Was Tokyo home for you?”

  Home. She gave him a weak smile. His heart sank. He’d taken her from her home. She lifted up the blinds of the window next to her shoulder. Sunlight danced across her fingers and chest as she looked out the window and hugged herself.

  “Home. Such a loaded word for me. For some, it’s a place … it's hard to explain. Home for me is … well ... nowhere.
”

  She shook her head, ignoring the memories that flittered across her mind, “My parents died a while ago. Even before then, it was … complicated ... at home.”

  He swallowed and dug his fingernails into his palm. Peter caught his can of carbonated seltzer water as the jet hit a couple rough clouds and the interior of the cabin rattled.

  “Fighting, I found, was a passion. An odd and violent passion but it got me out of bed every day and made life … tolerable ...” she took a breath and looked over at him. Her blue eyes sad and distant.

  “I'm--”

  Olivia raised her hand and shook her head, “Don't beat yourself up over taking me. I was a gift remember?”

  “Yes, I know. It just feels weird. I run the bare-knuckle fighting in north-west Chicago for my family. So, I had a motive for picking you. The old woman offered me a geisha but I wanted you.”

  Olivia’s mouth stretched into a satisfied grin, “Uh-huh. You wanted me for my fists and only my fists?”

  Peter chuckled, “Yes, uh, basically.”

  Olivia smirked, “Well, I'm glad that's clear, Peter. I’m happy you want me purely for business purposes.”

  She folded her arms, her eyes bright, “So sucking your lovely cock was a business transaction and not for pleasure?”

  Peter cocked his head, “Do you need it to be?”

  Olivia laughed, “Don’t answer my question with a question. Business? Pleasure? Or both, Driscoll?”

  His smile and playfulness dissipated in an instant. His body became rigid and alert. His eyes bore into hers, his voice was cold steel, “I never gave you my last name.”

  Silence.

  Right away, Peter’s mind went to Sawyer. All the Chicago families knew Peter had lost his wife a few years ago. It’d make sense for Sawyer to try and get someone on the inside, preying on vulnerability.

  “You’d be surprised how many Yakuza talk. Especially in bed.”

  She was too quick with that response. Peter would’ve paid millions to watch her fuck. His cock grew hard at the idea of her fucking men for information about him. He licked his lips, his gaze unwavering. He knew not to trust her, he’d have to be very careful. So careful. Olivia leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. Her back was straight and her body was tense. She knew better than to flirt with him, it would only make him even more hesitant to trust her.

  Peter pinned her with his eyes, “Have you ever been to Chicago?”

  Unfazed, she opened her cereal and began to eat. She’d make him wait for the answer.

  Olivia stretched her arms over her head, “No, I haven’t. Although, I've always wanted to visit Chicago.”

  Peter casted Olivia a veiled glance. The tension that was coming off him in waves began to dissipate after several minutes of silence. “Speaking of which,” he said, downing the last of his drink. He hopped up and walked towards the cockpit, knocking once before waiting a beat and entering.

  Olivia relaxed and scolded herself for slipping up. She yawned and popped her ears before opening the second tiny box of cereal. A few minutes passed before Peter came back out. Walking back to her he said, “Nine hours. We’re stopping, here in four hours, at a private airfield near Los Angeles to refuel.”

  “What about customs?”

  Peter shook his head, “Taken care of.”

  She nodded and stifled a yawn. Of course Driscolls had someone in the customs office on their payroll. She massaged her knuckles and stared out the window, trying to not think about the fact that they were still over the ocean. The thought made her nauseous. Peter walked a few steps towards an empty seat that had their bags. He grabbed his laptop bag and sat back down.

  “Do you want something to read?”

  She looked at his Kindle he was holding out, “Sure, that'd be great.” He tapped a few security settings as he said, “I gotta make sure all my romance novels are off of here.”

  She laughed as he handed his Kindle over to her. The tension from the last few minutes evaporating. She tapped around, still chuckling, until she found his library. He sure loved his European history. Peter pulled out his laptop from his bag and began typing.

  Olivia wiggled her eyebrows at him before asking, “So you read a lot of history,” she scrolled down his library “and some romance from the looks of it. Figured a man with your …” she motioned towards him trying to think of some words. He pursed his lips and waited.

  “Good looks?”

  “Err … whatever,” she said smiling.

  “Reading romance doesn’t mean I’m a sad, lonely, old man. Besides, in our world, who doesn’t want some positivity and a happily ever after.”

  “Fair point. But sad, lonely, old man? You can’t be much older than me. I figure you have like zero problems getting a woman.”

  Peter chewed on his lip and stared down at the keys on his laptop.

  “It’s ... complicated. I … um ...”

  “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to strike a nerve or something.”

  He waved a hand at her. She watched him for a moment before tapping on a few comics in his library. She opened one up and began reading. He was staring at a spot on the floor in the aisle, lost in thoughts and memories. She read the same few lines for five minutes before he spoke.

  “My wife died from ovarian cancer a few years ago … those books ... are hers … were hers.”

  He cleared his throat, drawing his green eyes up to meet her blue ones, “We grew up together. My brother, Ronan, is actually her brother. I was always the unofficial older brother until we fell in love. She was already sick then,” his voice grew heavy, “but I still married her.”

  Olivia didn’t know what to say to that. He raked his fingers through his hair and returned to typing on his laptop, focusing on the work in front of him. They lapped into an awkward silence. She pretended to be engrossed in the comic but her thoughts kept looping back to him.

  Peter reread the same line in the document he had pulled up at least ten times before he pulled out his earbuds and plugged them into his phone. He furrowed his brow, frustrated at his lack of concentration. Selecting his favorite playlist, Speed Metal, he drowned out the pain with loud music as Olivia sat reading, quiet as a mouse. The rest of the hours dragged on in silence.

  6

  The last leg of their journey was the longest. Tired and irritated, they both wanted to be off the jet and in bed. Preferably naked. The change in pressure woke Olivia from her nap and she figured that they had to be nearing Chicago. She yawned and popped her ears. Rubbing her eyes, she looked over and watched Peter staring out the cabin window at the night sky.

  Clearing her throat, she asked, “How much longer?”

  Peter’s gaze met hers, “Fifteen minutes or so. It’'ll be after midnight when we get in.”

  They heard the landing gear flap down. Several minutes passed before the jet descended towards a private runaway on the outskirts of Chicago. Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. She bit her tongue as she felt the jet jiggle and the wheels tap on the runway. The landing gear kicked in. The floor shook and vibrated as the jet slowed.

  Olivia blew out a breath and unbuckled as the jet rolled towards the private hanger. With lightning speed, Peter moved around the interior, cleaning up wrappers and empty bottles. He wanted … no, needed to get her home. The jet slowed to a stop just as he returned to his seat. The pilot came out of the cockpit and opened the cabin door and dropped the stairs that descended to the hanger floor.

  Peter exchanged a few words with the pilot as he grabbed his jacket and laptop bag along with Olivia's duffle bag. She took a few steps towards him and reached for his hand. Without a word, he entwined his fingers with hers and stepped off the jet. He smiled as he felt her fingers traced over his scars on his knuckle. The summer air was humid, a drastic change from the cold interior of the jet’s cabin. Olivia’s mouth twitched as her eyes fell on Peter's black Porsche.

  “I'd never pick you for a Porsche guy.” />
  Smiling, he glanced over at her, “Neither did I until I drove it.”

  They walked towards his car, his hand still holding hers. He let go as she reached for the door and opened it. Peter hopped in the driver's side and started the car. Sleek black interior and blue display lights outlined both their faces as they glanced at each other. She gave him a lopsided grin before gazing around the car and said, “I'm more of a Ferrari gal but this is pretty freaking sweet. GT3 right?”

  Olivia moved her hand to the gear shift. A sensuous smile curled her pink lips as she watched him watching her hand. Peter’s mouth went dry. He needed her hands all over him. He continued to stare at her hand moving over the gear shift. Smooth and level curves molded into perfection.

  “Oh yes, GT3. I think after this, you'll change your mind about being a Ferrari gal.”

  His eyes followed her hand as it moved over the rest of the Porsche’s interior. Peter buckled his seatbelt, grinning. He may not trust her, but he sure as hell would fuck her tonight. Maybe tomorrow tonight, too. Definitely the day after that.

  “The sooner you stop fucking my car with your hand, the sooner we can get out of here.” Removing her hand from the dashboard, Olivia laughed and buckled her seatbelt.

  “Let’s go, blondie.”

  Peter threw the car into drive. The Porsche zoomed out of the hanger and made its way towards the Stevenson Expressway. Olivia's tired eyes watched the shimmering Chicago skyline as Peter drove towards his penthouse apartment. Weaving through some light traffic, he slowed. He pulled the Porsche off an exit ramp and drove down a few busy lights before pulling into a private parking garage. A striped yellow and black arm blocked the Porsche from entering. Leaning out of his window, Peter entered a five-digit code on a keypad.

  The arm lifted and he pulled into an empty parking space on the first level of the garage. The garage was bright and well lit with a row of several expensive cars parked in nearby spaces. Olivia blinked up at the fluorescent lights as she stepped out of the Porsche, she spotted security cameras in every corner of the parking garage. Peter grabbed his laptop bag and hers before motioning towards a metal side door. Their feet hit the concrete and echoed around the garage.