Arm Candy Warrior: A Dark High School Romance (The Heights Crew Book 2)

by E. M. Moore

  “Same,” I tell her.

  I glance up to meet Brawler’s eyes. Adoration, respect, and pride seep through his turquoise shades. I nod at him, but people start to crowd me now. I guess not everyone has a brother to hold them back. Johnny holds out his hand, keeping everyone at a safe distance. “We’ll be at Candy’s. She’s very thankful for your support. Thank you.” The crowd opens a gap for him until we’re safely back in the small holding room for the fighters.

  Johnny doesn’t waste any time getting his hands on me. “I’m impressed as hell with you, my sexy Kyla,” he purrs, and then we lose ourselves in a kiss that has rivaled all our other kisses. It’s the proof of two people who desperately want to share their feelings with one another but can’t. It’s a wild coming together due to our connection until an invisible barrier holds us back from the breech.

  Basically, all I get is a lady hard-on with no way to release.

  19

  Johnny treats me like his princess as I ready myself for the celebration at Candy’s. Kudos to him for thinking of it. He just marketed their strip joint to a bunch of rowdy customers ready for a good time. The plan is genius.

  As of tonight, there’s a whole cabinet of the shampoo I like in the shower area. There’s also brand-new makeup: foundation, eyeliner, mascara. All that’s missing is an actual closet with all my clothes, but Johnny’s thought of that too. He holds up a skintight purple dress when I step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around myself. I dry my hair as best I can then run the towel over my body before dropping it to the floor. Johnny stares, gaze dropping until my nipples peak. Listen, if he’s going to rev me up, he has to deal with the consequences, too.

  He hands the dress to me, taking up a spot in the corner where he watches me shimmy into it pulling it over my hips and then pushing my arms through before making sure everything is in place. The fight didn’t last long enough to get battered. My face is fine. My knuckles hurt a little, just as they do after every fight. Other than that, my forearms are a little sore from blocking her punches, but all-in-all, probably one of the better fights I’ve walked away from.

  Johnny walks up behind me, wrapping his arm around my midsection, his other hand drifting up my thigh. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk away from you tonight.” His hand breeches the hem of my dress. A muscle jumps in my upper thigh as he gets closer.

  I push my ass back into his hips, and he moves his other hand up to grip my breast. The dress is so tight, I can’t use undergarments. I wet my lips and bite down to keep from uttering something embarrassing. I turn toward the mirror that’s just over the sink and lock gazes with him. “Should I be pushing you away?”

  He moans, dropping his head to my shoulder and playfully biting me there. It turns me on more than it should. “Yes,” he croaks out. “You should definitely be shoving me away.”

  He steps back, giving me space. Perfect timing, too, because the door to the room opens. Johnny whirls to tell the person off, but it’s Oscar who strides in. “Your father needs to see you.”

  I try to calm my beating heart. “Your father was here?”

  Johnny straightens his shirt and rearranges himself. “He wanted to watch you fight again.”

  Yeah, sure. I bet that’s all it is. I share a look with Oscar that I’m sure says exactly what I’m thinking. If Johnny hasn’t seen it yet, he will soon. Then again, he probably already knows that his father is checking on his assets, and it doesn’t make a bit of difference to him.

  “Watch her?” Johnny asks Oscar. “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

  Johnny cups my ass before leaving the room. As soon as he exits, Oscar locks the door behind him.

  I glance at the lock. “What are you doing?”

  “Protecting you.”

  He moves forward, and I turn to face him. He studies my burning cheeks. “You’re flushed.”

  I could tell him it was from the fight, but I’d be lying.

  “I watched you from the box, hiding a stiff one the whole time. Then again, I don’t think I was the only man doing that.”

  He hooks his hands under my legs and lifts me until I’m sitting on the sink. He rolls the fabric of my dress back and pushes my knees apart. He trails a hand up my thigh, and my heart starts to pound.

  “Let’s see how much Johnny got you riled up.” His fingers pass over my slit, and I tremble. “Damn,” he says, jaw hardening as his hands find me slick with my own desire. “Just for that, I’m going to make you cream for me.” He plays with my slit and then pushes a finger inside.

  I grip his shoulders. “Is this smart?”

  “Is any of this smart?” he asks, pumping his fingers in and out of me at a steady pace. I pull him forward to kiss me, and he groans. His thumb passes over my clit, and then he pulls me closer to the edge of the sink to get a better angle. I gasp into his mouth and then bite his lip playfully. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” he asks, lips still against mine as he forms the words. “Too fucking many. I drive myself crazy.”

  “Mmm,” I murmur into his lips. He’s pulled taut with need, but his movements are still at expert status. He knows exactly where to touch me to get me off quickly, and it’s working. “Fuck. Oscar.”

  “You won for me, didn’t you?”

  I nod. “Did you notice my outfit? I tried to get it as close to a cheerleader’s uniform as I could.” The bra cut was triangular in shape, thick bands for my straps and around my back. The closest I could find to make Oscar’s dream come true. The little booty shorts are what I imagine cheerleaders wear underneath their skirts, too, though I don’t have any personal experience of that myself.

  “Aw, fuck, Princess.” He keeps his movements steady, still concentrating on my clit, pressing circles there with the pad of his thumb until I’m gripping him so tight, I’m sure it must hurt. I straighten my fingers to keep from hurting him and then reach down, cupping his cock. It jerks in my hold. “Fuck.” He pulls just far enough away to look at me. There’s something there that yanks me over the edge, sending me into a spiral of the richest pleasure. Oscar holds me until I come down, but the look on his face when I touched him still lingers between us. Why did he look shocked?

  Slowly, he removes his finger, and then pulls me off the edge of the sink. I slide down his body until my tiptoes hit the cement floor. “You should get ready. We don’t want Johnny wondering what we’ve been doing in here if you’re not farther along than you were when he left.” He kisses my forehead and then reaches around me to wash his hands. He pulls out a few paper towels from the dispenser and frowns back at me. “This isn’t going to be soft.” He wets them, the towels turning a dark brown before he carefully runs them over the area he just played with until I came apart.

  I watch him while he does this, awestruck by his compassion for me after the fact. When he finishes passing a dry paper towel between my legs, he looks up. “You should be getting ready.”

  “Why did you look at me like that?” I ask. “Why did you seem so shocked when I touched you?”

  His lips form a thin line. “A story for another day.”

  “Oscar,” I plead. Time’s running out, and Johnny could be coming back any moment, but this is too important not to talk about right now. “Tell me.”

  I reach up to cup his cheek, and he holds my palm there. His skin is hot, burning up. He turns his face to kiss the inside of my palm. “Let’s just say I’ve been with a lot of selfish women.” He squeezes my hand and then drops it, striding toward the other side of the room where he unlocks the door, ending the conversation.

  I turn back toward the mirror and replace the skirt of my dress back down my legs. It isn’t long, but it certainly won’t bode well for Oscar and I if it remains around my hips. “I’ll take that answer for now,” I tell him, holding his gaze. I make quick work of my makeup as Oscar watches. The hairs on the back of my neck stand the whole time. I do a halfway decent job of blow drying my hair—yes, whoever set this up for me has thought of eve
rything—but I leave it somewhat wet, touch up the powder on my face, and then coat my lips with a fun shade of red.

  When I turn, Oscar’s pants are still bulged in front of him. Johnny hasn’t returned even though I’m sure the fifteen minutes is up. Neither Johnny nor his father is ever very good at telling people how long things will take.

  “You’re by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  My skin sprouts with goosebumps. The urge to thank him for saying that overwhelms me. I want to thank him for pleasuring me by getting down on my knees and taking him into my mouth, but I don’t even need to list all the ways that’s a bad idea.

  A knock sounds on the door, and Oscar closes his eyes briefly.

  “It’s Johnny.”

  Oscar mouths something to me. I can’t be sure what he’s said, but I read the word everything. It’s everything? You’re everything? I can’t ask him because he’s already opened the door, revealing a waiting Johnny.

  Johnny’s lip quirks up. Oscar studies us as he moves forward. His hand curls to the small of my back as he looks me over appreciatively. “Ready?”

  I nod, fighting the urge to look at Oscar.

  We walk from the room. “You too, Bat,” Johnny says, calling for Oscar to follow us. “We’re all celebrating.”

  I search the main area for Brawler and find him talking with a few people with cleaning supplies in their hands. When he sees me, his gaze zeroes in. “Nice fight, Kyla.”

  Johnny hugs me tighter, beaming. Brawler nods at Oscar, and Oscar returns it. At least in that they’re on the same side. They can put aside their differences when they’re worried about me. Though, they shouldn’t be. Johnny’s not going to let anything happen to me, even if it is more about his own ego than his love for me.

  When we’re seated in the car for the short drive to Candy’s, Johnny makes sure I’m plastered to his side. There are a few other bodyguards in the back with us, including Magnum. “Nice fight,” he says, echoing what Brawler just said.

  “Did you catch it?” I ask.

  He nods. “I was up in the box.”

  I grin at him, letting everyone’s praise flow through me. This is the first time I’ve had people around me whose praise and encouragement I wanted. My aunt and uncle never used to come to my fights. Hell, they didn’t even know about them. I’ve been in the underground circuit a long time. Just not here. They’d see me come home with black eyes, and I’d make up excuse after excuse. Bullying at school. Accidents. You name it, I used it just to get out of the inevitable conversation.

  Sanctioned fights were never really my thing, but that could be because it’s difficult as fuck to get fights in the normal competition circuits. There aren’t a lot of female fighters, and I couldn’t make a splash out in the real world where someone could easily trace me when I made my move to the Heights. I had to keep under the radar as much as I could. I cut my teeth on fighting back home though it was nowhere near what it’s like here. Even when I fought Cherry, that was the biggest fight I’d had to date.

  For Johnny’s part, he’s playing the doting, proud boyfriend well. Except, it’s not an act for him. I know how proud he is of me. But it also sucks that he’s got something to gain from my fighting, too. It makes his reactions not as genuine as the others, even though they very well might be.

  The night at Candy’s consists of rounds and rounds of alcohol being delivered to our table. The waitress keeps announcing who’s bought me the next drink, but they are all names I don’t recognize. Except for Joe Dunnegan. I recognize his. He lifts a glass to me, and I do the same, taking a sip of the dark amber liquid before turning toward Mag and whispering, “Told you I could drink.”

  “I know. Fuck the rules,” he whispers back.

  Tonight at Candy’s isn’t a normal night though. Sure, there are women dancing on the stage, but there are more bodies in here than ever, all of them writhing against one another, dancing with each other instead of focusing on the stage. Johnny was the only reason we could score a booth to sit in. The regular customers don’t seem to mind all the newcomers because scantily clad women accompanied all the bloodthirsty men from the warehouses, and those ladies aren’t as untouchable as the ones on stage. Tonight is more like a nightclub with naked entertainment than a chill place to sit back and get your rocks off while watching women dance.

  “Look what you did,” I tell Johnny, gesturing toward the bodies in the room. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

  Even Dunnegan himself couldn’t look more pleased. He’s already returned to our table a few times, telling Johnny that Candy’s should always host my after parties. Johnny looks to me as if I have a say in the matter, but I agree anyway. It just makes good business sense.

  Why I’m worrying about making the Heights Crew money is beyond me. I tell myself it’s not for them at all. It’s for Johnny. Just like he watched me kick that girl’s ass, pride beaming from him, I feel the same as I watch everyone in this room have a great time because of him. I bet this place has their best week yet. Not that it’s not always a moneymaker. Sex sells. I’m not naïve about that. But tonight, Johnny dropped the cover charge, and the liquor is flowing like nature’s waterfalls.

  An hour into our celebration, the crowd is pushed back as more of the Crew’s guys filter into our space. I almost stop breathing when a familiar face follows a horde of black-clad bodyguards. Johnny nudges me so we can slip out the side of the half moon table. Johnny lifts his hand to greet his father with a handshake while K inspects the room. “Good job, my boy,” he says, his other hand landing solidly on his son’s shoulder.

  “Kyla,” he says, addressing me with a short nod and smile. “You fought very well tonight.” He slides his gaze down my body. It’s only cursory, but it slips a wedge of unease through me. No one wants to be ogled by their boyfriend’s father unless their boyfriend’s father is Jensen Ackles. Let’s get real.

  Whether Johnny notices or not, I’m unsure, but their conversation turns to business as Big Daddy K takes a seat with us at the half circle table. It might just be my perception, but Magnum moves closer to me on the edge of that half circle seat. I’m more secure with him here as K informs Johnny that they had their best night ever at the warehouse. He even tells him they had to turn people away, and they definitely don’t want that. All signs point to the fact that they’ll be getting a new venue for the fight ring.

  While they talk, I search the room for Jax and Finn, wondering if they made it to my after party. Jax doesn’t seem like the type who would want to come to a place like this, but Finn definitely does. Naked girls? Dancing? Hello. He’d be on board, as would most males.

  Johnny’s hand moves up my thigh. He squeezes me a little to get my attention. “Want to dance?”

  He nods toward the gyrating bodies of which I was staring after. In actuality, I’d moved on to looking for Oscar who’d only stayed for a little while after we got here. He probably couldn’t stand not being able to be close to me, so he decided to leave. I can’t blame him.

  Johnny excuses himself from the table, and we move to the outskirts of the bodies pressed so tightly together. People give us a berth as we start to dance. Johnny’s got moves. Within a few minutes, my cheeks are flush, and my body is telling me it likes Johnny’s touch far too much. His hand roams over my ass. “Have I told you how much I like this ass?”

  “I thought you were more of a breast man myself.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me,” he says, nipping my earlobe. He spins me around, so my back is against his front. He maneuvers my hair over one shoulder and drops his hand to my stomach. I grind against him, looking at him over my shoulder. The crowd has pulled back a little, and more than a few people watch us. “I forgot you weren’t wearing any panties. Bad move on my part.”

  I grind against him, only to look back to see the lust in his light blue eyes. He spins me until I’m facing him again. I look up. “Everything okay?”

  Conflict sears in his gaze.
He drops a kiss to my lips. “Perfect.”

  The song ends, and Johnny helps me off the makeshift dance floor. Magnum avoids my gaze as we walk back. However, Big Daddy K motions for me to scoot into the booth first. It was bad enough when there was a body between us, but now that I’m next to him again, I can’t stop replaying what he did to my parents over and over again in my head. No matter how many times I try to push it back so I can concentrate, it comes to the forefront.

  “You put on a good show out there, you two.”

  Johnny hugs me to him, and I’m grateful for the few extra inches of separation between his father and me. I’d be happier if it was a few feet, but I’ll take what I can get.

  Big Daddy K taps his lips. “People couldn’t keep from staring at you.”

  “It’s all her,” Johnny says.

  “That’s what I’m saying.” Big Daddy K leans forward, and Johnny follows him. “What do you think of Kyla working here a few nights? A fighting stripper.” He raises his eyebrows in quick succession. “They’d go nuts.”

  The air in the room shifts. Everything goes quiet around us. I want to reach out and slap the fucker, but I know what that would mean for me. My heart holds still until it waits for something else to happen. For Johnny to reply. For him to kick his father’s ass. Just something.

  Johnny laughs, and my heart kicks back into gear. “You better be joking,” he says, practically hauling me into his lap.

  “Remember it’s all about business, son.” The leer he gives me sends shivers down my spine.

  Just what the fuck is Big Daddy K getting at? And whatever it is, I hope this is one of those times that Johnny will tell him to fuck off.

  20

  Johnny’s chest rumbles. “It’s not business with her. I already told you.”

  My stomach clenches. I’ve only ever heard Johnny argue with his father once, and that was when Big Daddy K wanted me to fight Evan. Big Daddy K glances at me as if I’m going to stick up for myself like I did that time, but I press my lips together. I am not fucking stripping.