He takes a deep breath, and his exhale is one of a man who just let some negative energy back into the universe. “I’m really happy you said that. I’ve felt like shit ever since it happened.”
“No need, man. No need.”
“Good.”
Just then Lucas reaches into his pocket and checks his phone. “Oh shit, man, I’ve gotta run.”
“Yeah, no worries. Mila got you running errands for the wedding already?”
“No, actually. It’s not Mila.”
“Oh, okay. What’s up?”
“Nothing crazy. I have a date with your girlfriend and, apparently, I’m late, so gotta go. I’ll catch you later.”
“Wait, what?”
“Gotta run, man, I’ll explain later.”
I think Harper’s going to have to explain way before later ever gets here.
3
Damien
“You almost gave me a heart attack before, you know that?”
Harper is sitting across the couch from me, looking as hot as ever, and I find it almost impossible to concentrate on whatever it is I’m trying to say when she’s around.
“Technically, that wasn’t me. It was your boy, Lucas, who did that, and I’m kind of happy that he did. Great guy, by the way.”
“Yeah, Lucas is the best, but not when he’s fucking with me like he did before. For a split second, I really thought you were going on a date with him.”
She grins coyly. “Awww. Nice to know you can get jealous over me.”
“Of course I’d get jealous over you, have you seen you?”
“You’d fight Lucas over me?”
This time, I grin. “I fight Lucas almost every day at the gym, only no one is around to see. Well, I shouldn’t say that, once I get back to serious training his little groupies are going to have our sparring sessions on their Instagram stories. Matt’s going to have to make a policy or something.”
“I’m sorry, what? His what?”
“Groupies. But, before you raise your eyebrow any higher, it’s not like a Motley Crue concert or something. Lucas is a good guy all around. He’d never do anything with any other woman than the one he was in a relationship with. But, that being said, there are women—shit, girls, practically, at the gym almost every day now. His first televised fight got him a little shine in the media, and now he’s got full on fans hanging around.”
“Yes!”
I jump back when she practically shouts out. Her arms are in the air like she just won her own fight, and I look at her like she’s as crazy as she’s acting.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“This is great for my piece, and really great for you, which is why I did the whole thing with Lucas.”
“Wait, I’m confused. Can you explain every single part of that sentence please?”
“Sorry. Context, right? So, I didn’t tell you this, but I asked Lucas to do a quick interview with me when we were all in Vegas after his fight. I knew that he was going to explode in the media after his win—he has that ‘it’ factor, and he’s a good-looking guy.”
“I hope this is going somewhere, Harp.”
She laughs. “It is, I promise. Stay with me.”
“Okay. You were saying how good looking my best friend is.”
“Right. And have you seen his body!”
“Harper.”
“Sorry, just messing with you since I know you can get jealous now. It’s fun.”
“Great.”
She leans in and puts her hands on my face. The feeling of her skin against mine gets me instantly excited, and I can’t even pretend to stay mad. I wasn’t really mad to begin with, anyhow. She plants a quick kiss on my lips before sitting back down.
“Anyhow, I asked him to do an interview because I knew how popular he was going to get, and it turns out I was right.”
“So what was the point? To get more followers?”
“Ultimately. I mean, I make a living through advertising on my site, but really, I had a larger idea in mind, which is to get more eyes on the story I’m going to drop on you. That’s why I really did it. It’s win-win-win.”
“I see. And that third win is?”
“Lucas. Maybe get a few more eyes on him. All media is good media in this sport. You guys have a long way to go before crossing over into the mainstream, so anything I can do to help the sport in general is my pleasure, but this move was all about helping you out eventually.”
I have the best girl in the world—I don’t care what anyone says. It hasn’t been that long, but she’s been there for me through some shit already, and now she’s looking out for my career also.
I lean in and kiss her, running my hands through her hair. I can’t even contain the hard on that’s always raging when I’m near her. Usually I can control it, but right now I don’t want to. Right now, I want to be inside of her more than anything in the world. It’s like every other impulse in my body is shut down for the singular desire to fuck Harper, and, from the way she’s kissing me back, she feels the same way.
She comes over and puts herself right on top of me, straddling my lap as I grab onto her hips. I squeeze as hard as I can. I’m holding her in place as she kisses me, her hair draped over my face. She sits up and hikes the dress she’s wearing up around her waist as I struggle to get my pants off.
“Here,” she says. “Let me.”
She takes the short cut. Unzipping me slowly and pulling my manhood out of my pants, she lifts her body up just enough that I can slide underneath and inside of her. She guides me with her hands, and as soon as I feel myself slide into her, a warm feeling takes over my entire body. She’s like a drug, and I want to say high forever.
I keep my hand on her hips to move her body the way I want it to move. Her pussy is like magic. It’s lighting my entire body on fire, and the sensations of her touch, smell, and taste are ensuring this isn’t going to be a long love making session—this is a straight up fuck.
As I hold onto her waist, her puts her hands on each one of my pecs and starts to ride, grinding her wet pussy against my hard cock. I squeeze even tighter, sliding my hands from her waist to her hips, and I guide her back and forth. She has all the control right now, all the power, and I’m literally biting my tongue to keep from coming too soon.
“Slow down,” I whisper as she leans over to kiss me.
“You mean like this?”
Maybe slow was a bad idea, because that feels even better. She sits up and pulls her dress all the way up and off, tossing it to the side. Her bra follows. When she comes back down to kiss me, the feeling of her hard nipples and soft breasts pressing into me makes my whole body stiffen. I’m so deep inside of her that nothing else exists in the world right now—no fights, no problems, nothing—only her body and mine.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Just like that.”
She presses down into me before sitting straight up so that I can get the perfect view of her tits. They’re big and beautiful, and her nipples are begging to be sucked. I sit up and run my mouth around them. She starts moaning—her nipples are sensitive—and that only makes me lick harder. She moves her hands to my shoulders and starts riding me much faster and harder until I can’t take anymore without exploding.
“I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”
“Well I’m not stopping, so you’d better fill me up with that hot cum.”
“Oh, fuck!!!” I scream and explode inside of her—every drop shooting into her pussy. When it’s over, my whole body relaxes and she climbs off of me. “Holy shit, that was amazing.”
“I could tell. I love making you feel good,” she says.
“Next time it’s all about you.”
“It had better be,” she jokes. Only I’m not sure it’s a joke at all.
“Don’t worry, it will be.”
The rest of the evening is spent in each other’s arms, followed by us passing out in bed together.
4
Harper
“I thi
nk I realized something important last night.” I like being a little dramatic from time to time just to get Damien’s attention.
“Oh yeah?” he asks. “You mean besides the fact that I have largest penis you’ve ever seen?”
I laugh out loud. “Nope, that’s not it. I mean, obviously it’s totally true, but not what I was going for.”
“You’re right—my massive girth is pretty obvious. That can’t be it. So, what did you realize?”
“I’m not sure, so don’t let this make you nervous, but I think we’re incompatible sleepers.”
“Huh? What does that even mean?”
“You ever see that episode of Friends?”
“Do I look like someone who watches Friends?”
“What does that mean?” I ask, loving his discomfort with my clear misfire on his taste in media.
“Wait, before I even answer the first question, let me ask you one more—do I look like someone who not only watches Friends, but knows it so well that I could reference specific episodes?”
“I know that you want me to say ‘no’ to both of those questions—and, in quiet reflection, the answer may in fact be ‘no’, but I just don’t want to give in.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “We both know what’s up. But go on, tell me all about the episode of Friends, ‘cause I’m sure as shit never going to see it myself.”
“I think you’re a closeted Friends fan—just a working theory.”
“What???”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to overcompensate. I’ll play along. But when you feel like coming out of the Friends closet, I want you to know that this is a safe space—no judgment here whatsoever.”
“Noted. Now, about our sleeping?”
“I was awake when you pushed me off, you know?”
“What are you talking about?”
See, he knows exactly what I’m talking about, but, much like his secret Friends addiction, he’s playing coy with me. Well, two can play at that game. “I felt you do the hug and roll. It’s okay, just admit it and we can move on.”
“The what?”
I roll my eyes. “So, in that episode of Friends—by the way, this is when Ross and Rachel were still together.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Context. You’ll see.”
“Ah. Okay.”
“Anyhow, Ross is talking to Chandler and. . .”
“You know I have no idea who these characters are, right?”
“First off, sure you do. And second, you’re capable of following a story, so you don’t need a full character map to keep up with the scenario. Now stop interrupting me.”
“Yes, ma’am. Go on. Ross—who was totally still with Rachel before they went on a break—was talking to Chandler.”
Oh. My. God. “You bastard.”
“Excuse me?” he says, all fake shocked, not yet realizing that he just showed his hand.
“You just said way too much. You do know Friends. You love Friends. I’ll even go so far as to speculate that Friends is your favorite show, like, ever.”
“Woah, woah, woah. How did you get there?”
“I never said anything about Ross and Rachel being on a break. That’s the end of season 3.”
“Shit,” he says. “Alright, so I’ve seen an episode or two, here and there. It’s on Netflix, I just had it on in the background.”
“Right. Sure. The background. For three seasons.”
“Go on,” he prompts, desperately trying to change the subject. “You were saying?”
“Fine. I’ll keep your secret, don’t worry. But, what I was saying was, in that episode, Ross tells Chandler that he doesn’t like when Rachel sleeps on him, so he created a technique called the ‘hug-and-roll’, where he pulls her in close, then rolls her over to the other side of the bed so he can have space.”
“And you’re saying that. . .”
“You hug-and-rolled me last night. You don’t like when I sleep on you?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. I got hugged and rolled.”
“Okay, fine,” he blurts out, finally broken by my ruthless interrogation tactics. “Look, I love when you lay your head on my chest. It’s nice before sex. It’s nice after sex. It’s nice when we’re just chilling and watching a movie. Shit, it’s even nice to fall asleep like that. But all night? Eight hours of being in that position. My arm falls asleep and I get all sweaty.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. The betrayal. “And also, you snore. Loudly.”
“I do not.”
“How would you know?” he asks.
“No one’s ever said anything before.”
“They were being kind. It sounds like a Harley engine. I can’t have that in my ear all night. I’m a cage fighter, I need my sleep for training.”
“Okay, so I’m officially offended, just so you know, and you’re cut off until further notice.”
“Cut off?” he asks. “Like, from sex?”
“No, Damien, from my four-star Michelin Star French cooking skills. Yes, from sex.”
“But we just had sex, Harp. Literally. A few times last night.”
“Good. That’s all you’re getting for a while so I hope you stored up like a camel.”
He laughs at me. “Did you really just say ‘like a camel’?”
“I did. And keep laughing. You’ll be horny soon enough, and then what are you going to do?”
“Work out,” he announces without missing a beat.
“Work out?”
“Yeah, I’ll work out really hard. I’ll just redirect that energy into something positive. It’s called sublimation.”
“Huh?”
“Sublimation. It’s a psychological term.”
“Who are you right now?” I ask, totally confused.
“I was reading a lot in the hospital on my iPad. I read that word and didn’t know what it meant, so I looked it up. So, to answer your question, when I get horny, I’ll just work out hard. I’ll take it out on my opponent. It might actually help me.”
I can’t help but crack a smile as much as I’m trying not to. “I hate you so much right now.”
“No, you don’t,” he says, kissing me on the forehead and getting up. “I’m going to make a shake, you want anything?”
“Actually, yes.” I say, jumping up and totally about to change the subject. “I want to finish our interviews and publish the piece on you.”
“That was random.”
“My whole brain is a series of random thoughts that just fire at all times without any context. Do you not know me at all by now? And it always makes sense in my head.”
“Why do you want to finish now all of a sudden?”
“Because, with the momentum from Lucas’ interview and my growing reader base, I think now is a great time. It’ll help build up momentum leading into your fight, when it happens.”
“Funny you should say that. I was just talking to Matt about that yesterday. He got me a fight.”
“Oh shit, you’re booked to fight Johnny again? That’s great news! When? Oh.” I’m happy for him, I really am. This is what he wanted more than anything in the world. But I’m also nervous that he’s rushing back into things too soon after getting out of the hospital. I see his face look less enthusiastic the more I talk, which tells me that he’s not fighting Johnny at all, he’s going to have to fight someone else instead. Fuck. “They offered you a tune up fight, didn’t they?”
“Not even,” he tells me. “It’s yet another number one contender spot fight. I beat this guy, I get a shot at Johnny. I don’t, and I get a job at Starbucks.”
“Hey, hey. I don’t want to hear all of that negativity. There’s no ‘ifs’, you understand me? It’s when you beat this other guy. When, Damien, not if. You get it?”
“Maybe I should have you in my corner,” he jokes. “And thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence. How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“The int
erview. I need to get back to training. I’m going to take is slow at first—just get my body back into the rhythm of moving around. Tomorrow’s day one of my redemption. Afterwards, how about we meet up for dinner or something and you can probe me all you like. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” I tell him. “Especially the probing part.”
5
Damien
Normal people will never understand what it’s like to have a grown man fling his entire leg at your head at full strength, or the satisfaction in knowing that you can defend such an attack. That’s the power of martial arts. Unfortunately, that’s not the only powerful thing right now.
I put up both hands to block Lucas’ left high kick—so much for going easy on the first day back.
“Easy, killer. We’re not trying to knock each other out.”
“I know,” he says, moving around like we’re fighting instead of sparring. “But you don’t have a long time before the fight, and you need to kick those muscles into fast twitch response asap.”
Every fighter knows the difference between being in shape and being in fight shape. To an ordinary person, there may not be a distinction between those two things, but, when you do battle with trained killers, that difference is everything. I’m always in shape, but I haven’t been in fight shape for a month.
I was there—getting my reaction time perfect to be in combat with another man, but then everything that happened to me put me back a few weeks. Seems like Lucas is putting me on the accelerated program back to my old self.
We’re doing three five-minute rounds, going slow at first, but once Lucas ramps up the pressure, I meet his intensity. Neither one of us wants to lose a gym fight, even if it is just that. There’s an expression in fighting—iron sharpens iron—it’s one of many expressions in our sport, but if you saw Lucas and I doing battle right now, you’d understand exactly what it means.
All is going well for the first round—I’m seeing his shots coming, I’m reacting well, and my body seems to be holding up. When we start the second round, everything changes. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like my body is seizing up. Lucas is throwing shots, and as soon as one lands to my chin I feel a rush of anxiety like I’ve never felt in my life. Instead of parrying or using my footwork to get off the ropes, I just put my back against them and put up my guard. He lands a few more and I feel like I can’t move at all. I fall to the ground and turtle up, expecting more shots but feeling none. I just lie there, paralyzed with fear.
A Savage Redemption (A Series of Savage Gentleman Book 3) Page 2