by Quinn, Cari
“Are you listening to me? Can you even hear me through that thick skull of yours?” She was yelling now, punctuating her questions with bruising knuckle jabs.
Fuck, she was hotter than hell.
I’d never been harder in my life.
I might’ve even fallen a little in love.
Ten
I was not getting the reaction I wanted.
Any minute now, Fox’s tongue would loll out of his mouth. I wanted to slap him full in the face and tell him to get a hold of himself, but that probably would’ve spun his crank more.
Men. They were such predictable creatures. Cute sometimes, annoying others, but so very manageable. At least if you knew how to fight back. And I did.
I also knew when I couldn’t reach my opponent. This one needed something a rational conversation could not provide. I’d suggest he go take care of business in the shower, but I really didn’t have any desire to broach the subject of sex in any form.
Bad enough that I’d let him kiss me. That I’d kissed him back. That I’d enjoyed it with every particle of my body and most likely a few of his too.
Now I needed to get home. I’d put the idea of us fighting out there. He could stew on it. Beat off to it. Whatever. But I would get my way. My sister was counting on me, and I needed the money I could get from fighting him.
Nothing else mattered.
“Stop it.” Fox’s irises glittered in the moonlight. “You’re not hitting me anymore.” He reached up to pry my hands away from his chest and seized my fingers in an iron grip.
I nearly moaned at the bolt of heat that speared between my legs. Hell, maybe I’d make myself come too. Clearly, we both had too much excess energy. How could we talk like rational human beings when all we cared about was rubbing up against each other?
Not that I ever did that sort of thing. I didn’t even get horny. Well, fine, occasionally. But not on any regular basis, and I usually just worked out extra hard to compensate. I didn’t even own a sex toy. I had no idea when I’d last had an orgasm.
Unless I counted right now, because if Fox kept looking at me like that, it was going to happen all on its own.
“Why are you staring at me?” I demanded, hoping he couldn’t hear the thin thread of need in my tone. Anytime now, I’d start panting.
“Are you honestly asking me that? Jesus, are you that dense?” He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his cock, and hell if I didn’t squeal like most girls did when presented with a bug.
Nice, Anderson. Show him you’re a worthy opponent by acting scared of his penis.
I moved closer and palmed the front of his jeans, more out of a desire to seem okay with the situation than because I wanted to learn his precise shape. And length. He seemed to go on and on, stuffed as he was into that life-constricting denim. He’d be sterile soon if he didn’t relax.
Judging from his groan, my fumbling caresses weren’t helping to ease his strain.
“What the fuck, Mia? What the fuck?”
I didn’t think that question was one that called for an answer. So I kept touching him, filled with curiosity and trepidation, wondering how I could get what I wanted from this situation without letting on exactly how badly I needed things to go my way. Desperation was not a color that went well with my skin tone.
Bringing him to climax in his jeans seemed like a good way to get him on my side. All I needed was a yes. I didn’t care how I got it.
The best fighters fought dirty, and I was better than most.
I backed him up to the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the lawn, and he grabbed the pointy spokes in a feral grip. His hips flexed, and he rocked into me while I roughly jerked him off. I slid my hand up and down in quick strokes and pressed my face to his chest. His heart was beating so fast, potential heart-attack fast, and his rough gasps made me squirm with longing. He’d tasted like beer, and now I wondered if he’d made me drunk somehow, because I didn’t understand what was happening to my body.
I mean, logically, I understood. I’d climaxed before. But not with a guy I wanted to be with. Not so easily. So naturally.
I picked up my rhythm as his breath grew choppier. He was getting close. I’d forgotten my moves for a couple of minutes, but I’d done this with enough guys to know I could make him come quickly.
So what if he’d kissed me first? So what that I’d liked it so much I wanted more? I’d only forgotten that this wasn’t about me and my pleasure for an instant. Now I could focus on my real part in this—
“Stop it.” He grabbed my wrist. “I’m not creaming in my jeans like some teenager.”
Swallowing hard, I raised my gaze from the sight of his darker fingers encircling my paler flesh to his eyes. Nodded. Then I reached for his zipper.
“What’re you—no. No. Jesus, Mia.” He snatched my wrists and held them up by my shoulders. Trapping me in place with his virility and strength. Bile streaked up my throat from the vulnerability of my position, and I fought him like a wild animal, forgetting where I was.
Who he was.
Instead of my Vinnie’s uniform, I wore a pretty pale pink dress. The first shade past white. It was a virginal color, because I was pure and innocent.
I’d been that way once.
His leather jacket bunched around my arms, cutting off my range of motion. The harsh drags of cold air I sucked into my lungs didn’t smell like Fox’s crisp, masculine cologne, but cigar smoke, thick and rancid. My heart thumped in my head, a primal drumbeat that spurred me to fight harder, to make each twist of my body count. I threw out an elbow, kneed whatever part of him I could reach. He grunted, but he didn’t release me. I redoubled my efforts even as my vision blurred.
I wouldn’t live through this again.
“Goddammit, stop it. Mia. Mia, baby, stop it. It’s just me.” He enfolded me in his arms, hauling me straight off the ground while my legs pumped and slashed through the air. “It’s Fox. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
When his words finally cut through the mist of terror in my brain, I went slack in his hold. As limp as a damn baby. He didn’t let me go, just kept whispering soothing words that would’ve caused me to weep if I’d had any tears left to cry. Instead, I sagged against his chest while shame burned through me like lava.
“Where did you go?” he murmured, lips to my temple.
His warm exhalations made my eyes close. The alcohol on his breath was vaguely sweet, and he’d kissed me with passion and tenderness, not demand couched in concern. I wanted to soak up every bit of that passion and let it plug up the holes inside me. So many holes.
“Who hurt you?”
I jerked back and stared up at him as if he were a stranger. Because he was. I didn’t know him. I’d seen him fight like the devil himself had a pitchfork to his throat. I’d felt his lips pressed against mine. I’d held his cock, tested its power and ferocity through denim. And I’d asked him to do the one thing that had kept me going for months, only to fall apart in his arms and nix my chances.
He didn’t see me as a valid competitor now. Not that he had before. How could he? I’d tried to get him off—and not very well, obviously, or he wouldn’t have stopped me—and then I’d gone to pieces during a fight with someone who no longer existed.
Darren was dead, and I still struggled against him every time a man put his arms around me. His voice echoed in my head. The promises, the lies. The praise I’d grown to crave, in hopes of avoiding the pain.
Out of everything I’d done, wanting Darren’s approval shamed me the most.
“Mia?”
Fox brushed my hair out of my face, his fingers as gentle as the falling snow on my bitterly cold cheeks. The frigid air had seeped into my bones, and I felt like I’d shatter if he so much as blew on me.
“Baby, let’s go inside.”
I wasn’t anyone’s baby. I didn’t want to be.
Steeling my shoulders, I pasted on a smile and trailed a fingertip over Fox’s jaw. I wasn’t giving up. Not when I was this close. “Sorry, I have an
early day tomorrow. Thanks for the walk.” I winked at him, though my face felt like it would crack from the effort. “Think about what I said. I’ll be in touch.”
Moonlight glided like transparent panes of ice over his gorgeous face. “That’s it? You rub my cock until I’m about to come and have a breakdown in my arms, then you just walk away?” The shutters came down on his eyes.
He was almost as adept at cutting himself off as I was.
“I would’ve finished but you didn’t want me to.” I shrugged and lowered my gaze to his throat. Such a vulnerable place. I’d nearly kissed him there before he’d shoved me away. “You could’ve had my hand or my mouth. I’m up for anything.”
He cupped my chin and dragged my face up to his. “How about if I take you inside and lay you out on my bed and make love to you until you scream?” He stepped closer and spoke against my mouth, moving my lips with his. Puffing his breath into me and making it mine. “And then, when I’m finished, what if I spread your legs and lick your sweet little pussy until you’re begging me to slide into you again? You up for that, baby doll?”
I was so shocked I couldn’t even work up a sneer at the annoying endearment. That was the only reason I could find for what I said next.
I’d live to regret saying it, that was for certain.
“I don’t even like that,” I whispered, with all the dismissiveness I could summon.
I didn’t want anyone’s face between my legs. It seemed horribly intrusive. Especially a guy who, minute by minute, was making me want to kick his ass even more. Pretty soon I’d be willing to do it for free.
He didn’t react for what felt like forever. Then his lips curled into quite possibly the most smug grin I’d ever seen. “Yet.”
Damn if I didn’t clench with need.
I pulled free of his hold. This time, he let me go. I zipped up his jacket to the neck, meeting his gaze one last time before I walked away. It was getting to be a habit with us—me leaving him hanging—but at least I didn’t run. In fact, I walked as slowly as my chilly legs would allow.
My pride was my most enduring companion.
When I turned at the corner, I looked back over my shoulder. He still stood in the same place, a looming shadow in the dark.
Eleven
I headed out early the next morning. Sleep had been an impossibility, so I eventually gave up and dragged my ass to The Cage. A few other people had arrived early too, but most of my favored machines were available. I warmed up on the treadmill before moving on to the rowing equipment and the pull-up bars. Quality time with the weight bag came next, then a lengthy sparring session with Joe, the first guy I’d ever fought. Despite being as grizzled as a Kodiak bear, he was agile as fuck, and I’d ended up with a couple more bruises than expected.
“Good job, man.” Rubbing my side, I grinned and bumped his fist after the match. Damn, maybe I really did need to start laying off the carbs.
I’d miss my bagels. But if I had to go cold turkey on bread products, at least I had bacon to ease the pain. And smoked ham. And Italian sausage smothered in peppers, onions, and horseradish sauce.
Joe followed me into the pool and sat on the edge while I did laps. Lots of laps. Even after the workout, my head still felt muzzy from lack of sleep. That wasn’t the only area of my anatomy that had filed an official protest.
Let’s just say my entire body—every part—had been awake all night.
“So you’re up against Costas soon. Heard he’s a scrappy one,” Joe said when I surfaced.
I grunted a noncommittal reply. I wasn’t excited about the fight. It was just what I did. Something to fill the time. The days of me living to get in the ring were long gone.
“Lots of buzz around the bout. Hard to believe you’re the old kid on the block now. You’re, what, twenty-two?”
“Three. You know fighters don’t last long ’round here.” Some got bored and quit. Some got hurt or aged out. Others ended up in another kind of cage, one with steel bars instead of rope. “I’ve been in the game awhile.”
“Which makes you a target.” Joe leaned forward to nail me with a penetrating stare. “Be honest now. You’re getting ready to hang it up.”
I ducked my head again and came up dripping. I rubbed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath of humid chlorine-scented air. All tactics to delay replying to Joe’s question. I already knew the answer, but that didn’t mean I was ready to say it out loud.
He was a decent guy, one of the best I’d fought. Joe had taught me Muay Thai. My favored low kick was a modified version of the roundhouse he’d shown me years ago. Even so, he was still a competitor. I trusted him—to a point.
“What makes you say that?” I slicked my hand over my scalp.
“Brother, I’ve known you for a long time. Your passion is gone.”
It wasn’t gone entirely, as proven last night with Mia. Just her name echoing in my mind had my poor neglected cock rearing to life in the warm water. But she was the exception.
She was also the reason I’d been up all night, hard, angry, and frustrated.
And confused.
I pulled myself out of the water to sit next to Joe. “What do you know about female MMA fighters?”
He scratched his bristly jaw. Joe was closer to forty than thirty, yet he’d almost kicked my ass this morning. In the eyes of some people who weren’t me, he had.
The guy was right about one thing. Passion was the missing ingredient. If you had it, any goal was in reach. Without it, you might as well go belly up at your opponent’s feet.
One reason among many it was time to get out. I didn’t want to get myself dead before I had a real chance to live.
“You mean here? In the city?”
“Yeah. I didn’t even know there was a circuit.”
“Oh, there’s a lane for most cars. You feel me?” He flashed a wide smile. His teeth were stained from coffee and chew and probably things I didn’t want to think about. “There are some broads who fight in Brooklyn, most of ’em outta Mark’s. They don’t draw in the crowds like the fellas do. Except for the gawkers. They see a pair of flapping titties in a sports bra and line up with their dicks in hand.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “Better than fuckin’ porn.”
I gripped the edge of the pool in tense fingers. It wasn’t my problem, but I hated the idea of men circling around Mia as if she’d been provided for their entertainment. She’d come to expect guys to treat her that way outside the cage too. When I’d turned her down, she’d practically fainted from shock. My throbbing balls still hadn’t forgiven me.
And that little speech I’d given her about fucking her then eating her out? Had tormented me all damn night long.
I supposed I deserved it.
“You ever hear of a girl named Mia?” I tried to keep my voice even. Casual.
“A fighter?”
I nodded, chest tight.
Joe started to shake his head, then he scratched his chin again. “Actually, yeah. I have. She’s brunette. Tall for a female. Cut.”
My neck tensed. For fuck’s sake, I was afraid to hear how far she’d gone in the lifestyle I’d lived for years. None of this made any fricking sense. “Extremely.”
“I didn’t remember her at first because she’s not connected. Girl’s more like a ghost than a fighter. She doesn’t hang around the circuit. Just gets in, gets out, and goes home.”
“Is she good?” Even as I asked the question, I knew the answer. She needed it too much. I didn’t know why—or who—she was fighting, but her desperation had rubbed off on me last night. I could still taste it if I swallowed just right.
That most likely made her miles more dedicated than I was. It also made her a risk—to herself. Desperate people weren’t real good at looking out for themselves.
“I can’t say I know that much about her, Fox. She’s built for it, I’ll say that.”
Between the nickname and the echo of what I’d said to Mia last night, my mouth was in perpetual sour lemon mode. �
��Jesus, why didn’t you ever tell me what that meant? All these years, I thought you guys were calling me fast.”
Joe laughed and thumped my back as he lumbered to his feet. With his bulk, it was a damn miracle he could move like he did. “You ain’t as fast as you used to be, boy, but you’re still pretty. Take what you can get, leave the rest.” He ambled away, whistling.
He’d been saying that for as long as I’d known him. I’d lived by that motto, contenting myself with whatever I didn’t have to stretch too far to grab. Fighting had challenged me once. Not anymore. If I’d ever scrapped to get by, those years were in the rearview. Somehow I’d turned into that lazy, indulgent rich boy I’d always been afraid of becoming while still wearing the façade of someone who gave a shit.
Unlike Mia.
Shaking off the tension that still hadn’t dissipated, I got to my feet and strode into the locker room to get changed. I had some research to do.
Under an hour later, I found myself at Mark’s Gym. I’d suited up in my warmest hoodie, which only offered a modicum of comfort considering my hands were raw from last night’s adventures in hypothermia. If anything, the temperature had dropped even further, and Mia not only had my coat, but my gloves.
The streaky gray sky promised more snow soon, and where was I? Staring at the peeling paint above the door of the gym I hoped was hers and wondering what the hell I was doing.
I still had my workout bag over my shoulder. Not that I’d be able to use anything in it while at Mark’s. This was a women’s facility, and my still overinflated twig and brassed-off berries would not be welcomed inside.
So I used what I had, and left the rest.
“Hey sweetheart,” I murmured to the first chick who came along.
Her militant stride proclaimed she didn’t mess around. She stopped at my salutation, though she stood ruler straight and glared. This one would not easily fall prey to my numerous charms.
“Yes?” she barked.
It took me a moment to answer, because the way her bangs lined up perfectly with her pitch black eyebrows fascinated me.
