by Rie Warren
Before I knew it, it was the Big Night.
In the locker room, Michael taped me up in silence. There were no tempting glances. There were no exchanged endearments. He was totally professional. So was I.
It still hurt me to the core when he wouldn’t meet my eyes or take me in his arms. Rationally, I knew he did what he had to in order to separate me going into the ring from our romance.
I knew keeping us in the dark fucked with his mind. I also knew I didn’t have time to go all headshrinker over the potentially devastating blows my secrecy might deal to our relationship because I had devastating blows to deliver to Reggie tonight.
Exiting the locker room, I put on my game face. I jogged into the ring, a grin plastered to my mouth. Getting into the wild, fans-on-fire vibe, I bounced from corner to corner. This was home to me. One I knew inside and out, backward and forward, from the very first punch to the final knockout hit.
A seething sea of people beyond the ring packed the auditorium. Madison Square Garden overflowed with press, sponsors, and nearly twenty thousand rip-roaring fans.
When I thrust my fist to the air, shouts almost lifted the goddamned roof off, and I loved it. I went through my prematch ritual, which included kissing the cross on my neck before I turned my back to Michael so he could unhook the catch and keep it safe in his pocket.
His sure fingers made quick work of the long silver chain. His mouth barely brushed my ear. “Good luck, babe.”
“You think I need it?” I turned toward him, catching his piercing gray eyes. “You don’t think God is in my corner?”
He pocketed the cross. “It doesn’t matter if he is or not. I am. And you are a knockout.”
When he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, I could tell he wanted to kiss me. I wanted it, too. Closing my eyes, I blessed myself with my boxing glove moving across my chest.
I listened to Michael’s low last words. “Make me proud.”
“That’s what I live to do.”
Trotting around my corner of the ring on the balls of my feet, I worked out any last kinks in my body. All the while I took stock of the next fighter I’d wipe the floor with.
Reggie Jones.
In between my arduous workouts and another round of press meetings, Dev, Michael, Sean and I had watched every last match of his we could find. Built like a tank, he fought with single-minded lethality. He didn’t appear to have a weakness until—earlier in the day while I paced the sitting room in Dev’s hotel room—Michael laughed.
I’d spun on him. “What? You think the possibility I might get my bonny face fucked up is amusing?”
He’d reached up to pat my aforementioned face. Affectionately—in front of everyone—I might add. “He’s got no fire. Whereas you, my friend, wear your heart on your sleeve.”
“I do not.” There’d be hell to pay if I did.
“Shut it. Mikey’s onto something,” Dev had hissed.
Aaaand I’d taken offense to Dev using my sex pet name for Michael. But I’d dutifully sat my ass down on the arm of the fancy formal sofa, which groaned in protest. The springs already sagged under Michael’s large frame.
“You need to rattle his cage, get under his skin,” my Mikey said.
The only man’s cage I wanted to rattle was his, and he knew it. I’d had to look away from my lover. Shit. I needed to concentrate on Reggie Jones—the only man who stood in the way of my title belt hopes.
“So what am I supposed to do to light his ass on fire?”
“Well, there you got me.” Michael had raked through his blond curls. “But you think fast on your feet. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
I think fast on my back, too. Unsaid innuendos had flown between Michael and me. Dev and Sean remained blissfully unaware. I’d hoped.
Even now, joining me in the ring, Reggie didn’t show a glimmer of feeling on his emotionless face. I was always the challenger, never the champion. Good thing being the underdog suited me just fine.
Introductions were well underway when I backed into my corner and Reggie took center stage:
“Theeeee DYNAMO from the Dark Streets of Harlem…”
“Isn’t that racist?” I mumbled through my mouthguard to Michael as I watched my ebony-skinned opponent.
His laugh was dry. “Imagine how he’d announce a gay boxer, huh?”
I didn’t even want to think about that scenario. Now my cage rattled and not in a good let’s-win-this-fucking-fight way. And what did my little eye spy when I turned to Michael for my last minute pep talk? Spiky auburn hair and a slick smile from a guy in the third row. My money was on ex-boyfriend Wade. Or maybe I was hallucinating.
Fuck.
I spun back around when the bell rang. I bounded into the middle of the ring as Anya swooped her sweet ass off of it.
The battle of big bastards in this heavyweight bout went on and on. Numbed to all but my anger at Wanker Wade possibly making his last stand, I grunted through uppercuts, protected my head, hit like a demon amped up on drugs.
Reggie never deviated from his attack-attack-attack plan.
Devlin yelled at me from the ringside. Anya swept around the ring between rounds in her beaded bikini, big-ass hair, and Dominatrix-style vinyl boots. Sean growled at me. I growled back through my mouthguard.
It had only taken me two intervals to figure out the auburn-haired turd in the third row was in fact Wade. He was for real. He was here. And he was not taking the break-up lying down. Wade’s presence only added to my fury to end this fight fast so I could keep my unbroken record.
But I swore to fuck if I saw Wonderful Wade wink at Michael one more time I was gonna go ballistic.
The ref broke up Reggie and me more than a few times.
Sweat and blood dripped from my face. My skin turned many, many colors of the spectrum. So did Reggie’s, especially when I did a left jab, right hook, uppercut punch combo on his puss.
Back in my corner again, I was hosed down, wiped up, and patted all over by Michael. Then he grabbed my face in both hands.
“You’re off your game.”
No shit. Tell your ex to am-scray already.
“I got this,” I snarled.
Sean’s gruff shout sounded in my ear, “Take it like a man! Take him down!”
My chest pumped up.
Michael slaked the sweat off me one more time. “Remember his weakness.”
I was not losing my first fight in front of motherfucking Wade. I had shit to prove and the fists to do it with.
Refreshing rage raced through my veins, lighting all my muscles on fire when I loped to center ring. The second the bell went off I was all over Reggie Theeee Dynamo. The crowd revved up when I did.
I muscled Jones against the ropes, tucking my head down, gunning for his midsection. Every punch slammed into his gut shimmied up my arm and shook my shoulder.
The screams for me, The Bonny Bruiser, The Irish Blight, roared!
Reggie scrambled for his footing, but he slipped down the ropes.
I boxed him to the mat.
Slam. Slam. Slam.
The ref pulled me away from Reggie and sent me to a neutral corner. I couldn’t hear the count through the blood roaring in my ears.
The audience went mental in their seats. And fucking Wade was among them.
Reggie got onto his knees. I boxed my gloves together. I had more in me. I was ready to end it. The ref continued the count with his right arm slashing down with every number he shouted.
Reggie tried to rise. The big man swayed from side-to-side; then he fell flat on his back.
God, I raged inside my skin. I wanted to fight some more.
When the ref counted Reggie out and declared him the loser, the bell rang along with so many thousands pealing inside my head.
My arm was grabbed and hauled up. “THE WINNER, WITH HIS SIXTEENTH KNOCKOUT! LIAM Oooooo’SHAUGHNESSY!”
I threw my head back and roared.
Reggie was carted off the ring.
My skin shivered over my bones. That one was almost too close.
Sean, Anya, Dev, and Michael whooped around me, speaking into the mic as the MC pivoted me in each direction toward the celebrating masses. When I faced front and center to give a few post fight sound bites, that thorn in my side—Wade—had made his way into the ring. He stood beside Michael.
He stole my moment of glory. Watching him with Michael made my nostrils flare and filled me with a fresh surge of anger. I’d just won the biggest fight of my life, but the worst might yet be to come.
If Michael went back to Wade that would be a blow I’d never recover from.
Wade needed to take his fucking hands off Michael before I threw him down. With my face beamed up to the JumboTron, I tried to wipe the scowl away.
Michael smiled as he approached me, sparing a last leveling look at his ex.
“Turn around, champ.”
His fingers stroked down my heaving back for a second. It was enough to send sparks throughout my body, Wade be damned. I felt Michael’s breath on my shoulder when he dangled the cross over my chest, hooking the chain behind my neck. Then the fans went hog wild as I kissed my gloved fist and raised it once more to the sky.
Michael grabbed my wrist, ignoring Ex-Boyfriend with a Death Wish Wade. I wouldn’t let his presence kill my victory lap. Every one of his freckles had my fists written all over them.
Fists I’d have to put to use later, because Sean led me into the tunnels after I’d stopped to pose for photos, smiled through gritted teeth, and gnawed a hole in my stomach about Michael standing beside Wade as the rest of my team escorted me away.
“Trouble in paradise?” Sean stabbed the butt-end of his stubby cigar at me.
“What?”
“Michael and Wade,” he tacked on, prodding me into the locker room.
Devlin banged inside. “Mikey’ll be here in a minute. He’s with his guy.”
Goddammit! I’m his guy!
Sean did the honors of removing my gloves and tapping me out of the taped fists. He threw a towel at me.
Devlin turned on a shower and marched out with a mere, “Keep it up, Liam. One fight away from glory.”
“Hey, kid?”
I stuck my head out of the shower. “Yeah?”
Sean stood there. “That was one helluva damn good fight. And you’re one helluva damn good fighter. You oughtta be proud. Keep your chin up, yeah?”
One small ounce of pride filled my chest. I returned to soaping up, and Sean whistled as he exited the shower block.
A few minutes later, I dried off in front of the lockers. Michael padded into the room. He moved straight into my arms.
I dropped the towel and asked, “What’d Wade want?”
Chapter Thirty
Victory and Defeat
MICHAEL SHOOK HIS HEAD. “It doesn’t matter. I sent him packing.”
“Oh. He wants you back, doesn’t he?” I sat down on the bench.
“I told him it isn’t gonna happen.”
“What do you want, Michael?” I talked to the floor between my bare feet.
Clasping my face, Michael drew my head up. “I want you. I wanted to kiss you like this.” His lips melted to mine.
An affirming rush of arousal bolted through me when he drew back to press his cheek against mine. “I want to kiss you like that every time you win, even when you lose, which—fuck me—I haven’t seen yet. I sent him away, Liam.”
Tears gathered in my eyes and stuck in my throat. “Come home with me?”
#
I didn’t know how to romance Michael. There were no candles lit or oils ready. Just me, in my bed, when he entered my apartment an hour later.
Silently, Michael shucked his clothes. His eyes darkened to near black when I drew the blankets aside, showing myself to him. He sank in next to me and his strong arms drew me to his chest as my back rested against his front.
“Are you too tired?” His whisper slid over my ear.
“I’m never too tired for you.”
“I don’t want to fuck you.”
My breath stalled out in my chest.
“I want to know you and hold you and be close to you.” His fingers gripped mine across my torso.
His arms always anchored me to him when we lay like this.
Hot tears slipped from his eyes.
I felt them streaming down my neck.
“I’m sorry. It’s really hard not being able to touch you the way I want when we’re together all day long, every day.” He gasped. “I feel like I’m losing you.”
“How does my winning a fight equate to you losing me?”
He flipped to his back.
When I rolled to my side, he’d dragged an arm over his face.
“There’s the job, and then there’s us, honey.” I rose to my elbow beside him.
“Honey?” His big gray eyes flickered open.
I took advantage of his reaction, grasping his ass and rolling on top of him. “Yeah. You’re my honey.”
Michael made a noise between a mewl and a moan, and that was the first time I heard that intoxicating sound. “I just wish we could be real together all the time.”
I reared up. “We are. We are real together.” I touched his heart first before bringing his hand to mine. “No one else matters.”
“Just tell me this isn’t one-sided.”
“Don’t you get it yet? I love you, Michael.” I stared down into his eyes.
“What?”
Lowering against him, I brushed his lips with mine. “I love you.”
He gripped my neck to drag me to him with a rough groan. Our mouths joined together in a long tender kiss. His full firm lips moved with mine as our tongues slipped from his mouth to mine.
Wrestling free with his hands skimming down my back and over the hard swells of my ass, Michael said, “Show me. Make love to me.”
I shoved up on my arms again, a straight shot of desire spearing me in an instant. “What exactly are you saying?” I needed to hear the words come out of his mouth.
He spread his legs and used his heels at my bare ass to bring me home. And that home was a hot little pink button pulsing against the tip of my deeply engorged cock when I looked down between our legs.
“I want you inside me.”
My arms trembled. “Fuck.”
Reaching low, he gently jacked me. “This. I need this.”
I swung my hips back because the idea of being inside him combined with the feel of his warm hole kissing my cockhead was nothing short of instant orgasm in the making.
Michael let my cock slip from his grip.
He brushed the hair off my brow. “So what do you say?”
“I’m gonna love you so good, sweetheart.” I started by kissing the satisfied smile from his face until he hunted after my lips when I pulled away.
There was so much of him laid out on my bed, all for my pleasure. The cords of his throat, the sinews of his shoulders, the tight nipples on his chest that only grew harder when I sucked each into my mouth.
Michael twisted beneath me, his powerful body seeking release. His cock jumped at my first negligible touch, but I wasn’t about to start there. Not until he whined, whimpered, begged for me inside him.
With his arms ratcheted above his head after I told him to stay put, I placed my mouth on the hot skin of his stomach. He jumped on contact and I chuckled. My hands coasted to his thighs where I pressed him up and open and mine.
He was so sweet, and so fucking hot. I was breathless. Sitting on my knees, I let my palms travel the long length of his body as I took in the sight of him. I murmured to him, kissing his thighs, his chest, deciding on my plan of attack.
Michael’s smooth balls were as pretty as the rest of him. He keened out as I circled both orbs with my fingers, dragging them low. When they pulled tight, I tugged the taut flesh into my mouth. Precome at the head of his cock dripped down, joining my saliva and slurping mouth. One pouch, then the
next, I rolled his balls in their soft sac with my tongue.
He kept his hands behind his head. Good boy. Moving into position with his cock aimed at my mouth, I scanned up his body to meet his fever-filled gaze. I tapped his shaft against my extended tongue, and licked it. His eyes shut, and I growled. As soon as I had his attention again, I rammed his heavy meat down my throat. I withdrew slowly, rubbing my tongue along the underbelly of his cock. At the top, I repeatedly drew my lips up and over the perfectly shaped cap.
When his abs crunched and released over and over, I deep-throated him. Every time I pulled him from my throat and mouth, I sucked, licked, and nibbled the head of his cock. Every time I swallowed him, I stayed down a little bit longer. Eventually saliva hung off my lips, dripped down his cock and over my hand. His solid shaft was so stiff and big it seemed to have doubled in size.
I couldn’t get enough of him.
I blew him until his hoarse shouts filled the air and I knew he struggled not to come. I didn’t want him over the edge. Not until I had a chance to feel his ass wrapped around me. I moved along his body, kissing him and whispering to him. I gentled him and loved him with every touch on his muscles, and his tattoo, and my hands winding through his hair.
When his breathing evened out, I lowered my face between his legs once more. He gazed down and gasped sharply. Lapping the deep grooves where his extraordinary ass met his thighs, I stared at his crinkled opening.
“You sure you want me in you, sweetheart?”
Michael hefted his legs further up his chest. “Does that answer your question?”
“You’re beautiful.” I touched his rim with a fingertip, watching him accept the feel of me.
“Liam!”
Oh yeah, more of that noise, please.
His rosy hole was mine. Short blond hairs tickled my nose as my tongue replaced my finger. His thighs tensed beside my head, and damn if he wasn’t the hottest fuck I’d ever had. I bit at his surrounding tissue. I sucked as much of his ass into my mouth as I could. I lined his entrance with wildly wet slips of my tongue, lapping and licking until he opened like a springtime bud.