Diablo's Throne MMA Books 1-3

by HJ Bellus

  I’m not shy about screaming out his name while bucking my hips up. He reaches over to the nightstand, tearing open another condom with his mouth.

  He sinks into me without warning, causing me to scream with an urgent type of violence. The sensation and feeling of him deep in me is something I’ll never be able to explain. His body covers mine as he works in and out of me while laying kisses all over my face.

  “More. I need more, Cruz.”

  He sits back on his heels, angling my hips up to him. His grip is painful as he digs into my flesh. He rams inside me over and over, hitting the perfect spot. I begin seeing spots right before my orgasm rains down on me.

  “Cruz. Oh my god. Cruz,” I sing out, relishing the zinging feeling exhilarating my body.

  “My name on your ass,” he grits out.

  Then a stinging slap comes down hard on my ass cheek, shocking me. Two more pumps and I feel Cruz pulse inside me; I know he’s spilling himself inside the condom. He collapses on me.

  “Sorry, baby.”

  I reach back, running my hand through his hair. “Don’t be. I feel safe under you.”

  We lie in silence until we are both forced to get ready for the day. We shower together, remaining disciplined not to indulge in more extracurricular activity. I make a mental note to get to the doctor ASAP for that magic pill. I want nothing more than to glide up and down his cock mixed with his release. The thought makes me heat up all over again. I pull on a pair of Cruz’s boxers and one of his large hoodies. It swallows my body.

  I look down to my phone to see a text from Papi.

  Papi: I need you at the gym today.

  Me: For?

  Papi: I’m behind on everything. Need help.

  Papi: Please.

  Me: I’ll be down in thirty or so.

  Papi: Wear workout clothes…you need to train.

  I don’t respond or argue. Training is the last thing I want to do, but I know he’s on edge about last night’s conversation. If it eases his mind to sharpen up my self-defense, I’ll do that for him, but I draw the damn line at fucking cardio. My chubby ass doesn’t approve.

  “Okay?”

  I look up to Cruz sliding into gym pants. He’s still topless and deliciously tempting. I focus in on the intricate tattoos on his chest and arms. They’re dangerous and sexy all in one stunning package.

  “Fine.” I stand up and go to him.

  My fingers trace the gun tattoos that span across his chest to the tribal design wrapping around his collarbone.

  “Cruz, no other girls, right?”

  “Layla, no.”

  “I’m not dumb. I’ve been around the fighting scene and know what goes on.”

  “I get that. My name is on your ass. Only your ass.”

  Remembering the marker poised on my ass cheek as he scrawled the four letters of his name on me, I reach back and rub it then smile. You bet your sweet ass he made sure it was still there in deep black after our shower.

  “I’ll see you at the gym. Dad needs help and wants me to train.”

  “Good.”

  I roll my eyes knowing that Cruz too is concerned about my mother being in town and about the other gym. I pat his chest one final time before heading to my house.

  Chapter 13

  Layla

  If the amount of unfiled paperwork is any indicator of Papi’s mental status, then it’s not looking good. He’s always on top of everything at the gym, but right now it’s a mess.

  My blood boils thinking of my mother and how she’s playing a very dangerous mind game with him. I take a minute to look her up on Facebook and sure as shit there are pictures all over her wall about the engagement. It makes me sick seeing part of me in her. Then the inevitable questions play on repeat in my head. How could she leave us? Will I turn out to be like her? Why in the hell is she back and with the enemy?

  Jag slaps the counter. I glance up at him and grin when I see the dumbass with a purple bandana on his head. The man never gives a shit what anyone thinks about him.

  “Treadmill. Thirty minutes then meet me in the ring, Sloppy Joe.”

  “Fuck off, Boner.” We’ve reverted back to childhood nicknames. “No treadmill, Boner!” I slap the counter right back.

  “Want me to tattle on you?” He cocks an eyebrow.

  I stick my tongue out at him before rounding from behind the counter. I readjust my loose workout pants and growl at the thought of the treadmill.

  “It won’t kill you, Lay.”

  “It might.”

  Jag shoves my shoulder playfully. I jab him in the ribs, and he howls, garnering the attention of the entire gym. It’s like the way we were when we were kids. We’re not blood siblings, but we sure as hell act like it.

  “Wuss.”

  Jag dives for me, and like a fool, I try to sprint away. And by sprint, I mean a fast walk jog combo. He catches me by the waist and does something we used to do as children.

  The fucker pulls down my pants in one quick swoop. An audible gasp fills the gym followed by a loud thud. I whirl around before pulling up my pants to see my dad, who threw down a massive weight in the middle of the sparring ring. Cruz is ghostly white. Jag breaks out in a fit of giggles with my ass right in his face.

  I pull them up so high I’d make Steve Urkel cringe.

  “Bastard,” I hiss at Jag.

  He’s still in a fit of laughter when Papi walks up to us.

  “Eres una estúpida. ¿Un tatuaje?”

  I slap a palm over my face and groan. How to tell the old man it’s not a tattoo and exactly how it got there?

  “Of a man’s name? A goddamn fighter on your fucking ass?”

  His face, a mix of anger and eagerness to kill someone, combined with his English and Spanish talk, is his tell—a sure sign he’s about to implode.

  “¡Ay carajo, papá!”

  “Talk, Layla.”

  “It’s just marker.”

  “Why is it on your ass?”

  “Sir.” Cruz steps up between us.

  “You.” He pushes a finger in Cruz’s chest. “Treadmill. Five miles now.”

  Cruz respects him and walks to the treadmill without saying another word. It’s like we’re two little kids in hot water. Papi turns his gaze right back to me.

  “I’m not a child. It’s a joke. That’s it.” I throw my hands up in frustration.

  “You show your ass in this gym like that again, and I swear to God I’ll lose my shit.”

  “It’s not like I mooned everyone for the fun of it, for Christ’s sake. Jag pulled them down.” I point to Jag who is rolling on the ground laughing.

  Like magic, Jag’s howling dies off.

  “Jag. Treadmill now.”

  Not so funny now, fuckface.

  Now I’m laughing at his ass. Well, until I’m told the same exact thing. I take the last treadmill between the ones already in use by Cruz and Jag. They both shoot me sideways glances as I fire it up. Then all three of us break out into laughter. Cruz shakes his head causing me to laugh even harder at him.

  Dad hollers at us, and we laugh even harder.

  “You boys are going to pay,” Papi growls.

  The two men shut up and face forward like good little soldiers, which only causes me to laugh harder. It’s one of those awkward moments where you shouldn’t be laughing, and that thought spirals you into fits of uncontrollable giggles.

  My feet pound on the rolling treadmill, and I laugh harder. Jag has a huge smile spread across his face. Payback is going to be a rabid bitch. I glance over to Cruz and see he’s fighting hard to not crack a full smile. When I hit a mile and a half, I cut the machine off and find Papi. I’m not nine anymore and sure in the hell can’t handle much more of this shit. My lungs are on fire, and my legs burn like fuck.

  “Papi.” He turns to me with a pissed-off look covering his face.

  “You done on the treadmill?” He cocks his eyebrow up.

  “Yes.”

  “My ass.” His jaw ticks.
“Get back on it.”

  “No.” I plant my hand on my hip. “This is bullshit. I’m an adult.”

  He throws down the weights he’d been lifting. “Real adult-like to bare your ass with a signature on it.”

  “It was fucking Jag being his dickhead self.”

  “Dios mio, your language.”

  I sit down on the floor to tighten the laces on my shoes. “I’m not apologizing for dating Cruz and what I do with him. I am sorry that you had to see my ass, but it’s Jag’s fault.”

  He grunts then readjusts the lifting-gloves on his hands. “I want you to train with Jag. Need to sharpen up your self-defense skills.”

  “Fine. But if I slip and nail Boner in the balls it’s not my fault.”

  He smiles, recognizing the old nickname. “Good hell, you two are like two fighting bambinos.”

  “He started it, Papi.” I smile like I did when I was a little girl. Got me out of hot water every single time.

  “Go train, then I need help getting the gym ready for the fight we’re hosting in a few days.”

  “Fight?”

  “Gym is hosting a fight.” He enunciates each word.

  I nod, then it hits me. “Is Cruz fighting?”

  “Sure the hell is.” Dad picks the weight back up. “Needs his head clear. He has a shot for the championship title in Vegas.”

  I fiddle with the tied laces, not wanting to make eye contact with him when I ask the question. “Will, uh, Ash’s gym be there?”

  “Un-fucking-fortunately. No way to avoid those bastards since they’re sanctioned and fighting for all the same titles.”

  “Who is Cruz fighting?” I cringe at the thought. Ash is a dirty fighter, and so are the fucking men on his team. They’d do anything to hurt Cruz, especially if they find out about us.

  “No one from Titan’s Tribe.” He pauses for a moment. “This time. Kid needs to keep his head clear of all the bullshit.”

  “Is there a chance Cruz could fight Ash for the title shot in Vegas?”

  “Looking like a damn good one right now.”

  I nod and slowly rise to my feet to wait for Jag, processing all the information. It takes several minutes before the douchebag saunters over to me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Shut the fuck up.” I punch his chest.

  “Didn’t say a word.” He reaches down, adjusting his junk. God, he’s so damn crude.

  “You almost gave Papi a damn heart attack, dickwad.”

  “It was worth it. Fucking Cruz turned white as a ghost.” Jag folds over, howling again. “Thought the big bastard was going to pass out.”

  I can’t help but smile at Jag. “Fair warning, dickface, I’ll be junk punching you during this session. You’ll never see it coming.”

  “Good luck, punk.” He straightens with that game-winning smile on his face. The man is good looking and has his way with the ladies. He’s such a manwhore.

  I take advantage of his stance and swing my leg quickly with all my force until I nail him in the baby maker. Jag doubles over, howling in pain. Once again we catch the attention of everyone in the gym. Papi shakes his head and yells at us.

  We ignore him like we did when we were little. My leg comes out from underneath me and before I know it my ass hits the mat. Jag attacks, putting me in some fucking hold. It always used to piss me off how he could put me into submission in the blink of an eye. I try to knee him in the groin, but he has me pinned down. Using my elbows, I slam them into his back. It doesn’t faze him.

  “Ever see a chicken look over a fence?” I mumble.

  He knows what’s coming next and tries to move out of the way. This time I’m faster, grabbing the hairs at the nape of his neck and pulling them as hard as I can. Jag yelps in pain. His fellow gym mates roar in laughter. There’s nothing better than making a full-grown man cry like a little bitch. I make a mistake by enjoying this moment too much.

  “You little dick licker,” he spits back.

  Jag manages to put me in a headlock, dragging me over to the ring.

  For the first time since returning home, I feel light and happy. No sadness lingering in the depths nor hurt and confusion from the return of my mother. It’s all vanished, and home is finally starting to feel like a newly discovered place. It’s a damn good feeling, but if I’ve learned anything in life, nothing lasts long.

  Chapter 14

  Layla

  Cruz is slumped on a bench in the gym studying his phone. Even though the man autographed my ass and took me as his, I still have a lingering suspicion about him. Something is off. He’s fighting something, or maybe someone, dark. I brush the thought away quickly, not letting ugly self-doubt taint this situation.

  “Hey.” I sit next to him, keeping some distance between us.

  He nods to me then finishes sending a text. “Hey, you.”

  His voice is deep and mellow.

  “You okay?” I point to his phone.

  “I will be.” He pauses but then eventually offers more. “Tying up the loose ends from my dad’s shit.”

  “I’m sorry, Cruz.” Because I am sorry for him. The heartache is clear in his voice.

  “I’m fucking starving.”

  I have to give it to him—changing the topic in an efficient manner.

  “Cutting weight for weigh-in tomorrow?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yes, some she-devil has brought doughnuts into my life, and I can’t get enough.”

  “Haven’t had the pleasure of eating one off a certain somebody’s dick.”

  “My dear, that requires VIP tickets.” His dimples shine back at me.

  “Asshole.” I swat his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure a nerdy guy brought doughnuts into my life.”

  Cruz grabs my hips in a flash, pulling me into his lap. My legs automatically straddle his thighs and my arms are around his neck.

  “I can tell you this.” He leans forward kissing me lightly. “You are the only thing that makes my day better.”

  “Ahhh…aren’t you the romantic, champ.” I smile, pressing my lips against his.

  I feel his lips mirror mine. A loud growling sound rumbles between us. I cup his cheeks, running the pad of my thumb along his smooth skin.

  “How much weight?”

  “A good six pounds to be safe. Damn fucking doughnuts and shots. I knew better.” He drops his forehead to mine. “Life got in the way, and I didn’t focus.”

  “I’m sorry.” I’m feeling guilty and remembering Papi’s words from earlier.

  He palms my ass to a nearly painful point. “As I said, Lay, you’re the best part of my day since you came home. You help me.”

  “Should I help you burn some calories, then?” One of my hands snakes down between us, cupping him through his thin gym shorts. A thick, throbbing cock greets my palm.

  He appreciates the move by growling, so I keep going working him through his shorts. The gym is deserted and locked up, with only the two of us occupying it. My hips roll in his lap, trying to gain some friction to ease the heat building up in me.

  “I have lots and lots of calories that need to be burned off.” He winks. “It’s a very big job.”

  I giggle at his stupid joke but then grip his dick harder and roll my hips, my force answering his question. Then I’m up in the air clutched to his chest, and within the next second my back is on the mat, with Cruz covering my body.

  Thank God for the loose gym pants I’ve been wearing to the gym since Papi thinks I need to train. Cruz rips them down in one swoop until I’m bare on the bottom half. He rolls up one of my hips, examining my ass cheek. I feel his fingertip trace over where his name once was.

  “I was sad when it washed off,” I mumble with my cheek pressed hard against the mat.

  “Then looks like I need a Sharpie.” He presses me back against the mat then spreads my legs wide open.

  I feel embarrassment flood me, being exposed to him in the light and right in the middle of the gym. He seems to sense my discomfort and be
gins to run his palms up and down the inside of my thighs.

  It feels like an eternity since I’ve been touched like this, even though it’s only been two days. He growls then dips his head until I can feel his breath tickling my sensitive parts.

  “Cruz,” I moan.

  “Too many calories.” I feel his smile spread out across my opening.

  I can’t help but laugh like a fucking lunatic and grab the back of his head with my good hand, pulling him down to me.

  “Face in the place,” I remind him with force.

  He darts his tongue out to lick through my folds, then swirls my sensitive bud.

  “Jesus,” I scream out, “more.”

  My hand digs into his hair, pulling him closer and closer to me. I feel Cruz sink two fingers into me, filling me to a point where I’m ready to explode from the overwhelming sensation. It only takes two more pumps of his fingers before my thighs clutch to either side of his head and I’m pulling his hair while screaming out his name.

  “Shorts off,” I demand when Cruz crawls back up my body. “Now.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head but has them and his boxers off in one fell swoop. Part of me mourns not being able to study him in the sexy-ass boxers that hug his muscular thighs and taut ass. When he covers my body all signs of mourning are taken over by joy and celebration.

  “Time to burn calories.” I drum my fingers on the top of his shoulders.

  He reaches into his gym bag, pulling out a condom and tearing into it like an expert. I don’t question why he has a stash in there. I’m motherfucking grateful.

  “Round one.” He smirks down at me.

  I don’t wait for Cruz to enter me. The head of his swollen cock rubs my entrance. I glide my hips up and down, letting it massage me until I can’t handle it anymore. It only takes one more push upward until he’s fully inside of me. We both still at the connection, enjoying the feeling of our bodies uniting.

  “It’s never felt this good, Cruz. Ever,” I whisper.