DIRTY READS

by Scott Hildreth

  He rested his arms on the edge of his desk and leaned forward. He locked eyes with me. “That someone, Jaz, is you.”

  Shane Dekkar went from being a cool kid to being crazy in an instant. There was no way Shockwave Simpson’s management team would agree to have her fight some no-name girl from Omaha, Nebraska who moved to Texas to get away from her abusive father.

  “There’s no way they’d agree to let me fight her. I mean, it’s cool to think about and everything, but…”

  “They’re waiting on a call back,” he said.

  I sprung up from Ethan’s lap. “Who’s waiting?”

  “Simpson’s camp.”

  “Waiting for a call from who?”

  “From Kelsey.”

  “About what?”

  He laughed. “About you.”

  My throat tightened. I began to pace the floor. “You told them about me?”

  He nodded. “I asked Kelsey to. And he did.”

  I looked at Kelsey. He stared back at me stone-faced.

  I looked at Dekk. He grinned.

  I swallowed hard. “What’d they say? I mean. What’d you tell them? You just. You actually called them? Like ‘hey Shockwave, how’s it going?’ I mean you…What did you…you actually called them?”

  He raised his hands, turned his palms to face me, and took a deep breath. “Here’s what happened. Kelsey’s my trainer and my manager. We found out about your record. He called Tactical Promotions, who promotes my fights, and almost every other professional fighter’s fights. He gave them your stats and said you were fighting out of this gym. He told them you were going pro. He asked for them to find you a good fight for your first fight, considering your undefeated record as an amateur. In ten minutes, they called back with the news of Theresa Shunk’s injury. They said to expect a call from Simpson’s camp. Are you with me so far?”

  I nodded. It did make sense, but there was no way that Simpson’s camp would ever call back and agree to anything with me, I knew that much.

  “We’ve since had that call. Actually, quite a few of them. That’s why you’re here. Simpson wants to fight you, Jaz. In three weeks. Would you like to hear their offer?”

  I stopped pacing the floor and stared.

  “Twenty-three days,” Kelsey said flatly.

  I turned toward Ethan. He was smiling from ear to ear.

  “Offer for what?” I asked.

  “Tactical Promotion’s offer to have you fight.”

  “They’d actually pay me?”

  Everyone laughed. Everyone except me.

  “Yes. They’ll pay you. Comparatively speaking, I don’t think it’s quite up to standards, but it’s open for negotiation. It’s unheard of to be offered a flat fee in a title fight, but that’s what they’re offering.”

  I exchanged glances between Ripp, Ethan, and Dekk. “Title fight? She’s putting up the title?”

  He nodded. “Kelsey required it.”

  My heart went nuts. A grapefruit sized lump rose in my throat. “Hold on,” I said. “I need to talk to my managers.”

  Ethan was still sitting in the chair. I rested my hands on his knees and gave him a kiss. “I want to do this. It’s crazy. But I want it. What do you think?”

  “I want you to do it,” he said. “I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

  I turned to face Ripp. He had been surprisingly quiet. As I made eye contact with him, I realized why. He appeared to be as excited as I was, but was waiting for my response. His right knee bounced up and down as he waited for my answer.

  “You with me on this one, Boss?” I asked. “It’ll be a bitch to train for.”

  His nodded his head eagerly. “If you agree, I agree. But on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s me and Kelsey, together. We’re in it to win it,” he said.

  The thought of having the old man at my side made me happy. “Okay.”

  I turned around. “I’ll do it.”

  “You want to hear their offer?”

  “I uhhm. I don’t care. I mean, I don’t care what they’ll pay. Call ‘em back. Tell ‘em yes.”

  “I’m gonna tell ‘em to go fuck a goat,” Kelsey said. “There ain’t another woman on the planet that’d agree to fight Simpson in three weeks. And they damned sure can’t get anyone else that’s gonna keep the interest as good as someone with a 135-0 record.”

  “What’d they offer?” I asked.

  “One point five for a loss, and two point five for a win. Flat fees. That’s horseshit. Percentage of pay-per-view’s what’s standard. Sixty-forty split’s standard. That pretentious bitch. I’d like to…” he stood from his seat and clenched his fists. “I say we tell her to get real with her offer or get someone else.”

  “What do you mean, point this and point that? What’s that mean for me?”

  Everyone had another laugh. And, once again, it was everyone except me.

  “One point five million dollars, Spaz. American money,” Kelsey said. “And two point five million if you beat her.”

  I stopped pacing the floor and stumbled toward Ethan, who was now standing. I pointed to our chair. “I need to sit down.”

  But I didn’t.

  I threw up instead.

  THIRTY

  Jaz

  Day eighty-five.

  In a successful training regimen, sleeping is believed to be as important as exercise and eating. Ethan had been staying over regularly since our talk, and having him at my side in the morning made it difficult to get out of bed.

  I was convinced sleeping with Ethan had become an important part of my training.

  “Isn’t life interesting?” he asked.

  I rolled to my side and flopped my arm over his bare chest. “What do you mean?”

  “Two and a half months ago, I didn’t even know you. Now? You’re fighting for a title fight, and Ripp agreed to train me. I just…” He turned his head to the side and kissed me. “I can’t imagine life without you.”

  I got lost on his blue eyes for a moment, and then began to admire his messy hair. I had grown to love how it was never combed, but was always a perfect disaster. “I can’t imagine life without you, either. It’s been two and a half months? Already?”

  “Crazy, huh?”

  I slipped my hand over his bicep and pulled him close. “Yeah.”

  “It’ll be awesome when Ripp can start. I can’t wait.”

  I laid my head against his chest. “I’m sorry it won’t be until after my fight.”

  His hands slid along my bare back and came to rest at my waist. “Right now, training you is more important. I’ve been this long with my trainer, a few more weeks won’t hurt anything.”

  “Your next fight’s when, next week?”

  “Yeah, four days. Hopefully my last with Brockman.”

  The sound of his voice resonated through his chest and against my ear. There wasn’t anything especially sensual about it, but for whatever reason, I found feeling the sound of his voice as he spoke to be a turn-on.

  I pressed my ear firmly to his chest. “Say something else.”

  “What?”

  “Anything.”

  “I want you to meet my parents.”

  I craned my neck, but kept my ear flat to his chest. “Really?”

  “Uh huh. I think it’s overdue. Are you okay with that?”

  I liked the thought of meeting them. It was yet another step in the right direction as far as our relationship was concerned. Further proof that Ethan was in my life for a reason.

  “I’d like that.”

  I laid still for a moment and listened to his heartbeat. I found it to be comforting, and the predictable pattern soon lulled me into a state of conscious slumber. I remained there for some time, thinking about having in-laws being a permanent part of my life.

  I worried for a fleeting moment how they might accept me, and then decided that I had nothing to be ashamed of. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

  “I k
now they’ll like you.”

  I grinned at the thought. “I love you.”

  I reached between his legs and began to stroke him slowly and softly. “I love you, too.”

  Within a few strokes, he was firm in my hand. Without speaking, I tossed my leg over his waist, situated myself, and guided him into my wetness.

  Seeing his handsome face and feeling his girth inside if me at the same time was too much. I closed my eyes.

  Giving Ethan my heart allowed me to exhale, which was something I had waited a lifetime to do. Immediately, I began to feel an entirely different level of satisfaction when we were together. Now, seated deep inside of me, an entire host of new feelings sat poised and ready to be released.

  With each stroke of his cock, a few of them managed to escape.

  They fluttered about inside of me. I buried my fingernails into his muscular chest, arched my back, and opened my eyes.

  I looked down. He gazed back at me, his eyes filled with love.

  Seeing his level of satisfaction caused a few of them to free themselves, riding on the backs of my pleasure filled moans.

  Methodically, I worked my hips back and forth, taking time to make certain I used each and every inch of his length to my satisfaction. His massive girth stretched me to my limit each time we made love, and it was that combination of pleasure and pain that satisfied the sexual beast within me.

  I gripped his massive chest firmly, digging the tips of my fingers against the flesh. In turn, he dragged his fingers along my back and bucked his hips in perfect time with the movement of my hips.

  His upward thrusts buried the tip of his cock deep within me, each time forcing the breath from my lungs like a shot.

  I chewed against my lower lip and closed my eyes, allowing myself to focus on the feeling of having him inside of me. Together, we continued to our quest for sexual satisfaction, grinding against each other wildly.

  His girth increased. His breathing became irregular and heavy. Knowing he was on the verge of reaching climax caused me to quickly rise to my own peak of sensual satisfaction.

  A tingling from within me gave warning of what was to come. I opened my eyes. He looked back at me and thrust his hips, filling me with his entire length.

  I gasped out in pleasure, and with the last thrust of our successive hips, we reached climax together.

  In love.

  And as one.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Jaz

  Day eighty-nine.

  It was the night of Ethan’s fight, and once again, he predicted a win. In fact, he said he never wanted to lose another fight, and promised to fight each and every fight to the best of his ability. Somehow, it seemed he had found a way to live a humble life and be victorious at the same time.

  Personally, I felt that it was me that brought on the humility, but then again, that was just my thought on the matter. He believed it was in anticipation of having Ripp train him, but that was only a guess.

  Either way, I was pleased.

  “Are you excited?”

  “About what?” Ripp asked.

  “The fight?”

  He tilted his head toward me. “Yours?” He then shifted his eyes toward Ethan. “Or his?”

  I squeezed Ethan’s hand. “His.”

  “Kind of.” He chuckled. “Yours? I’ve been sick since we made the announcement. Got the fuckin’ bubbleguts. Probably end up shittin’ my pants right there in Vegas on national television.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Are you really nervous?” Ethan asked.

  “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’? I’m as nervous as a nun at a penguin shoot.”

  Ethan and I laughed and Ripp shook his head. He claimed to be nervous, but during training, he was nothing but professional. Well, as professional as he was able to be. He was still funny and although he was big and gruff, he was always caring.

  Always.

  “What do you got? Forty-five minutes?” Ripp asked.

  Ethan looked at his watch. “Yeah. Roughly.”

  “Where’s your trainer?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Don’t know. But we’re generally not here this early.”

  “That’s no shit. What? You two stop fuckin’ on fight nights?”

  “Oh hell no,” I said. “We boned before we left.”

  Ripp scowled at me and then turned toward Ethan. “Seriously?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Uh huh.”

  “I fuckin’ swear,” Ripp complained. “Nobody’s willin’ to commit when it comes to this sport. Not like back in the day.”

  I laughed. “Back in the day?”

  “Back in the day I used to fuck me three or four bitches a day. I’d bang ‘em in the parking lot at the grocery store, behind the Japanese joint, in my car, on my bike, shit…I even beat dude’s asses and fucked their ol’ ladies. But one thing I never did? Fuck on fight day.”

  I had my doubts that he was totally truthful.

  “I call bullshit.”

  “Call whatever you want,” Ripp growled. “It’s the fuckin’ truth. Now Dekk? Different story right there. He’d fuck Kace and step in the ring.”

  “And he’s undefeated, right?” I cocked an eyebrow. “And you’re not.”

  “Fuck off, Jaz.”

  “Shit,” Ethan said, the tone of his voice seeming almost concerned.

  I leaned forward and shot him a look. “What?”

  “Here he comes.”

  “He, who?”

  “Tiny. The guy I’m fighting.”

  I coughed a laugh. “He goes by Tiny?”

  He tossed his head toward the entrance.

  Ripp and I both turned toward the door. Wearing a wife beater, sweats, and flip-flops, a man with a six-inch tall Mohawk haircut was walking down the aisle toward us. From what I could see, he was every bit as big as Ripp, and Ripp was beyond compare.

  I fought to swallow. “You’re fighting him?”

  He crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded. I took another glance in Tiny’s direction. Surprised at the speed of his pace, I quickly turned back toward Ethan.

  Out of my peripheral, I watched him. He began to chuckle. I took another quick glance. He stepped within a few feet of me and pulled his gym bag strap over his shoulder. Then, he crossed his arms, mimicked Ethan’s stance, and looked right at me.

  “Keep turning around and lookin’, and you might convince me to give you some of this.” He thrust his hips back and forth wildly in my direction.

  Fucking asshole.

  I clenched my right fist and threw a right hook into his chin. The sound of bone hitting bone followed and his eyes went wide.

  And then, everything happened at the same time.

  He rubbed his jaw and dropped his bag. “You fucking bitch.”

  “Motherfucker!” Ripp shouted. He yanked me to the side by my shirt. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!”

  “Come on, big boy,” Tiny bellowed. He curled his clenched fists toward his chest.

  Oh fuck.

  Ripp took a fighting stance.

  Above all of the shouting, Ethan screamed. His tone and the authority in his voice sent a chill down my spine. Oddly, it also provided me a strange sense of well-being.

  “Don’t fucking touch him!” Ethan growled. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Him.”

  He wasn’t angry. Or even mad. He was ready to kill.

  “I got this,” Ripp said over his shoulder.

  “I meant what I said, Ripp,” Ethan said, his voice demanding. “I’ll defend what’s mine, and I don’t need any fucking help.”

  Tiny kicked off his flip-flops. “Come on, pretty boy. When I’m done with ya, I’ll butt fuck ya, and then I’ll get started on your girl.”

  Ethan stepped around Ripp. As soon as he did, Tiny swung a right hook. Ethan dodged it, and immediately swung a hard right hand into the side of Tiny’s face.

  Tiny stumbled.

  Ethan hit him again with another right.

  And again.

 
; And again.

  Tiny stumbled away from the ring and into the aisle leading to the gym’s exit. People began to gather around.

  As Tiny fought to regain his footing, he swung a hopeful left. Ethan leaned back and the punch swung past him. He countered with a straight left, and it landed dead center on Tiny’s nose.

  Blood splattered everywhere.

  And Tiny fell onto the concrete floor.

  “Motherfucker,” Ethan said. “Get up.”

  Tiny moaned.

  Ethan shoved the heel of his boot against Tiny’s ribs. “I said get up.”

  There was no way he could get up. Ethan had hit him with five unanswered punches, all of which landed and landed hard. If anything, he needed an ambulance.

  Ethan leaned over him and grabbed a fistful of his Mohawk. Using his hair and the back of his sweats, he hoisted him onto his feet. His once white shirt was covered in blood, as was his face.

  “Apologize,” Ethan said. “Tell her you’re sorry for how you acted, cocksucker.”

  Tiny moaned.

  Ethan grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. “Apologize.”

  “Don’t kill him,” Ripp said.

  “He’s going to apologize,” Ethan growled.

  “Sorry,” Tiny said, his voice and almost inaudible whisper.

  “Not good enough,” Ethan said.

  He released his throat. “Apologize.”

  Tiny shook his head and coughed a few times. Blood steadily trickled down his face. He looked like absolute hell. “I…uhhm. I’m…I’m sorry.”

  Ethan met my gaze. “Satisfied?”

  I nodded. “Very much so.”

  Ethan wrapped his arm around Tiny’s neck, picked up his gym bag, and dragged him all the way to the door. After kicking the door open with his foot, he shoved him and his bag out into the parking lot.

  Ripp looked at my hand. “Did you hurt your knuckles?”

  I shook my hand. Although it was sore, nothing was broken. Contrary to what is shown in movies and on television, beating someone with bare fists generally either displaces or breaks fingers. Mine, however was just sore. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Now that was an ass whippin’,” Ripp said as Ethan walked up.

  Ethan looked at his bloody hands. “He got what he deserved.”