by HJ Bellus
“Mack-A-Bee.” I place my hand on her thigh, giving it a generous squeeze. I bite down on my bottom lip, stifling the ass-chewing I’m dying to give her. “Kiss me.”
She looks over her shoulder and then studies the auditorium before bending down and pecking my cheek.
“Not like that.” I pucker up, causing her to slap her palm over her mouth and stifle a giggle.
This time, it’s better. Not what I want but will do for now. She seals her lips to mine for the briefest of seconds. I let go of her leg, knowing damn well it will take her several minutes to get all her color-coordinated shit out of her bag. Mack bends over to unzip her backpack.
It all happens in the blink of an eye. Her feet tangle together, sending her gorgeous toned body lurching forward. Mack is two seconds from taking a head dive in the row in front of us. I act. I shoot my hand forward, snagging the hem of her shorts. My fingers glide down the backside of them and yank her back. My knuckles soothe her soft skin.
The desk bites into my abs as I pull her back. A mess of black raven hair swirls around us as Mack’s body flops down in her seat. My breathing hitches until she’s safely in her seat. This woman must be the clumsiest person I’ve ever met in my life. Over the weeks, I’ve seen her stumble and catch herself while other times she face plants. Shit, she would’ve face planted in the row in front of us.
“Thanks,” she squeaks out.
“Anytime.” I lean over and kiss her cheek. The public affection makes her blush to high hell and fidget with the hem of her shorts. Yeah, the shorts I so badly want to tear off before ravaging her body. I move around in the too-small seat, discreetly adjusting my growing dick. Settle down, partner.
“Mack-A-Bee, you have to be the sexiest and clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” I trail my finger along the scar on her jaw. One day I’ll be asking about that, if she ever opens up to me enough.
“That I won’t argue with you on.” She busies herself getting all her gadgets out and organized.
“Lunch after class?” I ask, sneaking my hand under her desk and squeezing her thigh.
“I—uh…can—”
I cut her off with a searing kiss on the lips and an extra squeeze on her creamy skin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
If Mack could get through a self-defense class and the tragedy known as Jag, then she could share a meal with me. The thoughts of parading her around campus and town make class drag by in a miserable fashion. Professor Rhoades’ class is one of my favorites, and typically I’m immersed in the lesson. Not today. One fine ass and intriguing woman controls my every thought.
Today, the professor’s life lesson is about basically not being a dick in life because karma truly does exist. He proved this point with a story about his older sister slamming his finger in a door, which resulted in the tip of his pinky finger being chopped off. All of this happened after he wouldn’t let his sister play with him and his friends.
“So what’s Mack’s favorite food?” I ask, standing up and hoisting my backpack over my shoulder. I extend a hand out, helping her up and basically on guard to catch her if she falls. Good damn thing I have lightning-fast reactions.
She shrugs, turns around, and begins walking down the aisle toward the exit. I keep close to her back with my hand on her hip. Call me a caveman, but fuck it feels good.
“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or pepperoni Hot Pockets,” she says over her shoulder, placing her hand on mine.
The simple action jolts a thrill of excitement through me, making me almost miss her answer. The fuck?
“No, baby, I mean like your all-time favorite food.”
“I’d go with Hot Pockets.” She stops once outside the classroom and waits for me to come to her side. She laces her fingers in mine, giving a gentle squeeze.
“You’re serious here, aren’t you?” I lead us through the crowded hallway.
When I spot the fucknutter who harassed Mack on the first day of class, I stare him down. Smart son of a bitch. He drops his head and walks away. That’s what I thought. Still wish I would’ve beat the ever-loving shit out of him.
“Yes, why?” She glances up at me with wide eyes so full of innocence and genuine admiration.
“Nothing.” I kiss her forehead. “Nothing at all.”
We end up deciding on a sandwich shop on the corner of campus. It’s no coincidence it’s the least crowded restaurant. We place our backpacks in a booth then make our way to the counter to order, hand-in-hand.
“What can I get you?” a busty blonde spilling out her top asks in a way too chipper voice.
It takes her a few seconds to recognize me, and when she does, it’s fucking chaos. She squeals in delight, bouncing up and down. Her tits have no option than to go with the flow. She’s in danger of a nip slip any moment.
“Holy shit, Trick, the Country Boy Brawler, I can’t believe it.” She slaps her cheeks, continuing to bounce around. “Do you remember me? Zoe. We met last year after your match.”
She draws out the last word and raises her eyebrows, conveying a hidden message. Thing is she’s so fucking obvious there’s nothing hidden. Mack slinks behind me with all the attention. And if I’m a betting man, she’s not liking what Zoe just had to say.
I slap my hand down on the counter, getting the over-eager cock chaser’s attention. “We are ready to order.”
My words come out clipped in a harsh manner, like pieces of metal grating together. Zoe’s eyes go wide as she stops her antics. I pull Mack up to my side, holding up our linked hands, making my statement crystal fucking clear. Mack’s trembles echo off my body. It’s a goddamn poison tunnel trying to swallow us whole. I won’t allow it.
“What can I get you?”
I breathe easier when Zoe picks up on what I’m laying down.
“I want your Italian combo.”
“Half or whole?” she asks.
“Whole,” I grunt, biting my tongue not to add a rude comment to the end about her stupidity. The angry storm of rage begins simmering inside of me. It can snap so fucking fast when I lose my temper. It’s taken me years to learn how to control it. It’s like containing a wild black bear sometimes.
“My girlfriend will have…” I peer down at Mack, who’s reverted to her old ways of staring down at her raggedy sneakers. I won’t embarrass her in front of Zoe, but I also refuse to let her sink back into herself.
“I’ll have the same as you, but a half,” she whispers.
I can tell speaking those words took every ounce of courage inside her. I finish placing our order, including two bottles of water and bags of chips, never letting go of her hand. Zoe sulked back and is now doing a marvelous job of pouting.
I reach into my back pocket, pulling out my wallet. Mack drops my hand. I watch her dig her hands into her pockets and produce a crinkled twenty-dollar bill.
“I got this, baby.” I slide my debit card on the counter.
“No, I want to pay for my own.”
I turn to Mack and pull her in by her hips until we are chest to chest. I drop my forehead to hers. The thick black frames of her glasses glow under the lighting.
“When we are together, I pay. No exceptions. You’re not going to argue. It’s the way I was raised.” I kiss her sweet, cherry-flavored lips.
Mack doesn’t say a word when she tucks her crumpled bill back in her pocket.
Zoe sends daggers our way; I ignore her, leading Mack back to our booth. I let go of her hand to see which side she slides into. Then I follow right behind, choosing not to sit across from her.
“Sorry for that, Mack.” I sling my arm around her shoulders and tug her to me.
“She likes you,” she whispers.
“Look at me when you talk, please. It kills me when you don’t.”
I am dead wrong, because when Mack gives me her face, I’m crushed with the hurt in her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Why me, Trick?” Her question comes out rushed, with insecurity lacing each syllable.
“What do you mean?” I lean in closer.
I know damn well what she means, but I’m going to force it out of her.
“She likes you. It’s clear you’ve been together in some sort of fashion and even more obvious she’d do anything for you. But you’re with me.”
There we go. Forcing my sweet girl out of her shell. I’m damn proud of her even though we’re attacking an intense topic here.
“She does like me. I have been with her.” I decide to rip the Band-Aid right off. “Haven’t been in a serious relationship since my high school years. There hasn’t been a woman who could get my attention long enough. It’s been fighting, the gym, training, and more fighting. It’s all that ever mattered until you. Can’t tell you why, Mack. But I fucking like you a whole hell of a lot. It’s not just MMA on my mind anymore. A sexy-as-hell green-eyed girl steals my dreams every night and my thoughts throughout the day.”
“Oh.” She clasps her hands together under the booth.
“I want you. It’s more than want. I need you in my life. We’re as opposites as they come. But I’m going to keep pushing you until you get sick of it or fall into me, baby.”
I lick my lips, lean down, and brush them against hers. Mack answers in leading the kiss. My brave girl darts her tongue out until I open for her. It’s sweet and complete perfection as we dance together in unison. I drop my hand down to the top of her thighs, rubbing up and down. I test the boundaries but don’t push right through them.
My cock throbs in protest when her hips move the slightest bit, and she moans into my mouth. Someone clears their throat, breaking up our tender and heated moment. We both look up to see Zoe with a scowl on her face, holding two red baskets of food in her hands.
“Here.” She slams the food down on the table.
“We need our water and chips as well.” I slide Mack’s basket of food in front of her.
Zoe stomps off. I inspect both of our sandwiches before either of us begin to eat. Mack’s moans and groans as she eats are about to fucking undo me.
“This is amazing,” she finally admits around a mouthful of food.
“Yeah, this place has off-the-chain subs.”
“I never would’ve ordered this. Thank you.”
“What would you have ordered?” I asked, shoving the last bit of the first half of my sub in my mouth.
“I wouldn’t have.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t eat out.”
I crane my neck. “This is a first?”
She slaps my chest and lays her head on my shoulder. “No, I’m not that big of a hermit. I just chose not to. Gene’s taken me out several times, and I’ve even ordered pizza.”
She continues laying her head on my shoulder as I polish off the second half of my sub.
“You finished?” I point to the quarter of her sandwich.
She sits up and stares at me, her jaw slack. “You’re still hungry?”
“Fuck yeah, I am.” I grin.
She picks up the toasted sandwich and places it in my basket, wipes her hands off on her napkin, and then brings her fingers to my face, delicately soothing over the healing bruises and cuts.
“Do they still hurt?” she asks.
“Naw,” I answer before shoving the remaining sandwich in my mouth.
“They’re…” Mack shakes her head.
I reach out for my glass of water, bringing it to my lips and give her a sideways stare. “They’re what?”
“Sexy,” she squeaks out.
I raise an eyebrow and grin. “Noted.”
Mack changes the subject quicker than a cheetah. “Won’t your stomach hurt after all that food?”
“Not because of the amount of food, but the carbs might kill me tonight at training.”
“You train every night?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I crumble down the paper in the basket and push it to the center of the table while stretching out my legs underneath the table. I lay my head on the back of the booth and turn to stare at Mack. She lazily runs her fingers down my jawline. I flick off my snapback and place it on the table, craving like no other for her to run her fingers through my hair.
“You going to the center tonight?” I ask.
“Yes, sir,” she mocks me.
“Good thing we have a class together, or we’d never see each other.”
“I know.”
We remain in the booth for a long time talking about everything and nothing. Mack has an uncanny ability to pull words from me. I’m a reserved person at heart, keeping my business to myself until her. She talks about Gene, the center, and her dreams of one day running non-profit organizations for those in need.
The walk to the bike rack is made mostly in comfortable silence.
“This is me.” Mack grins widely, patting the seat of her worn bike.
“Yeah, it is.”
I’m about to blow Mack’s mind in three seconds.
Chapter 11
Mack
He bought a bike. I grin up at the ceiling and adjust my glasses on the bridge of my nose. It’s been three days since Trick bought me a sandwich and then rode home with me on his very own bike. I smiled the entire time.
Trick’s enormous frame on a mountain bike looked odd. Somehow, he made it sexy. I swear the man has magical powers that are potent and seem to be controlling me.
There hasn’t been a time in my life where I’ve smiled and laughed so much. Trick shoved me right out of my typical routines and has made me live. And I never want to go back to the girl I was. I find myself blinking all the time to make sure it’s not a dream.
I’m no fool. I’ve read enough books to know not every tale has a happy ending. That exact thought scares the shit out of me and is almost powerful enough to make me hide. I’ve been hiding my whole life. I’m sick of it. One tiny taste of life with Trick has made me an addict in the best possible way. If this all crumbles, I’ll have memories to cherish forever.
I glance at the digital alarm clock on my nightstand and leap off my bed. I have twenty minutes to get to the gym. Trick has a bout tonight. He explained to me it’s like a practice one, not a sanctioned one. I tried my best to keep up, but in all honesty, I’m lost as an astronaut with no rocket ship.
I unbraid my hair, letting the waves cascade over my shoulder then pull it up into a high ponytail. The bulk of it poofs out into a stylish look, one that I’ve seen other women my age wear. I brush on a few layers of mascara and finish the look with a swipe of light pink cherry-flavored gloss. My cheeks are constantly blushed into a pink lemonade color around Trick, which is a good thing since my make-up collection consists of mascara, lip-gloss, and a shimmery beige eyeshadow.
I straighten out the Diablo’s Throne MMA tight black V-neck t-shirt Trick gave me the other day. It’s a perfect fit that hugs each curve, including my boobs, the one thing I used to be mercilessly teased about in middle school. I was the poor victim who developed before her peers. I’m now left with D-cup size boobs that I used to do my best to hide. Not anymore. This is the new me.
I tuck my twenty-dollar bill in my pocket, flip off the lights, and head over to Gene’s house. He came down with a nasty cold the past few days. He’s a stubborn bugger when it comes to accepting help but is the first one to always help his friends and even random strangers.
Gene’s house rests in silence. Not even his television is on when it’s always blaring Wheel of Fortune at this time of the evening.
“Gene,” I call out, walking down the narrow hallway that leads to his living room.
“In here,” he croaks out.
I glide my finger along the gold frame that holds Gene and Wilma’s wedding picture. It’s something I do every time I walk down this hall. The only other portrait adorning the wall is one of Pete, Gene and Wilma’s estranged son. I’ve never met him. He’s quite a bit older than me, dropped out of high school, and became addicted to drugs. It broke his parents’ hearts. This much I knew from an early age. It was evident in Wilma’s eyes
and the ways Gene would hold her.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, rounding the corner.
My heart sinks when Gene’s ash-gray face comes into view.
“A bit better today.”
“Gene.” I sit down next to him on the couch. “You need to go to the doctor.”
“Girl.” He pats my hand. “When you’re as wise as me, a common cold takes longer to get over.”
I snort at his response. Gene has always told me he doesn’t age, he only gets wiser.
“Want me to warm up some soup for your wise ass before I head out?” I ask.
“Head out?” He tilts his head in question.
“Yes.” My cheeks heat with my next words. “I’m going to Trick’s gym to watch him fight.”
“I see.” He strokes his chin. His witty comeback dances on his lips.
“Don’t.” I hold my hand up.
“What?”
“Tease me.” I stand up.
“About your boyfriend,” he sings. “Knew one day a guy would come along, Mack.”
“He’s a friend,” I retort.
“Is that what kids are calling it these days? Last I knew, when you sucked face, it was more of a serious relationship.”
“Oh my god.” I cover my face with my hands. I knew Gene would see us kissing when Trick rode home with me. It didn’t stop me. Pretty damn sure nothing will ever stop me from kissing his sexy, full lips.
“Mack, look at me.”
I drop my hands and stare down at him. He pats the couch next to him. I take a seat and wait for his wisdom.
“I know you better than anyone else, Mack. I can’t begin to tell you how damn proud I am of you. You’ve finally put yourself out there, and now this is where life truly begins.”
I reach over and squeeze his hand. “I’ve only made it this far because of you. Thank God you lived next door to my grandma.”