No Holds (The Fighter Series Book 4)

by TC Matson

  I shower, change, and spruce the fuck up because I’m taking my girl out tonight. She’s dealt with minimal attention this week, so I’m ready to lavish her. I push out of my locker room and spot Kyce walking through the door.

  “If it isn’t little dick.” He grins.

  “Staring at yourself in the mirror again?” I quip.

  He laughs. “You’re all dazzling. Taking Whitney out?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Gonna take her to the drive-in.”

  His head falls forward and he laughs again. “The fifties are calling.”

  I punch his arm. “Don’t be hateful because your jealous. Where have you been anyway?”

  “Jackson’s had me working massive over-time. Alan’s wife had the baby and he’s taken a few weeks off.”

  “You’re still coming to the fight?”

  He tightens his expression. “Have I missed any so far?”

  “Just checking. I’ll really need your ass this time. Whit’s coming.”

  His expression morphs into surprise.

  “It’ll be her first go around. She’s worried sick and sucks at hiding that fact from me.” I chuckle. “I’ll need you to stick with her during the fight.”

  “Great. I’ve been demoted to babysitting. When’s the flight?” he asks.

  I look down to my watch, dismissing his stupid ass comment, and start past him. “Thursday morning. It’s only an hour flight. I’ll scoop you up on the way to the airport.” The last bit is shouted from over my shoulder. I’m not going to be late to grab Whitney.

  She’s in a white tank top type blouse, a tight teal and pink skirt with tribal designs on it and tan strappy heels. Her hair is in a messy bun thing with locks cascading around her face. Instant hard-on.

  “You look stunning,” I drool.

  She beams. “Like a distraction?”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  She hooks her arm into mine and we walk to my truck. After helping her in, I drive to the restaurant and tell her to sit still as I hop out and run in to get the order.

  I place it in the back seat and take off to my destination. I’ve done my best to keep it all a surprise. The payment will be her face when it lights up. Happily surprised is priceless.

  I turn off the paved road and onto the dirt drive leading up to the green ticket booth.

  “A drive-in?” she squeaks out giddiness.

  Her eyes are wide with her smile shining in them. That. That right there is why I do what I do.

  “Ever been?” I ask.

  “No, but Candice has gushed about this place.”

  Points for me.

  I let her decide on the movie and then park deep in the back, making sure no one else will be close to us. I tilt the steering wheel up, push up the center console, reach behind my seat, and grab the bag. I place the Chinese containers between us and then reach behind her seat for the cooler, grabbing the bottle of wine I brought for her and the glass.

  She giggles. “Seriously?”

  “A quiet dinner for two.” I beam.

  She looks at everything I’ve laid out, and takes the wine glass. “This is a pretty well thought out plan.”

  “Are you envious of my event planning skills?” I tease. “I can always give you tips, but I don’t work for free.”

  Her laugh is sweet.

  We take our time eating and watching the movie…well, she’s watching the movie. My eyes are on her, saturating my mind with her image.

  I don’t eat too much, knowing I can’t blow my shot at fighting vagina face. Whitney took her last bite long ago. Noticing I’m done, she closes the boxes and places them back in the bag, putting it in the back seat before sliding her sweet ass in beside me. She fits there and looks damn good pressed against me.

  “When do all the dates end?” she says too melancholic for my liking.

  I puff a breath. “Are you wanting them to?”

  Her head rubs against my chest as she shakes her head. “I think it’s sweet you continue to impress me after knowing you have me.”

  “Is it working? Because I have to keep you around,” I say.

  She moves her head to peer up at me. “You realize I’m fine with being at home and doing nothing, right? I’m not out for your—”

  “I know,” I cut off her thought. “Don’t overthink it. I like doing this.”

  She stretches and kisses the bottom of my jaw. “I love how you have such a tender side.”

  Inwardly, I cringe. “It’s weak. You make me weak, but it’s only for you. Don’t expect me to ebb who I am for anyone else.”

  “I like knowing I have something no one else has or gets to see.”

  I exhale. “You enjoy testing my limits. All the dainty little conversations…”

  She pushes up, leveling her eyes on me. “Big macho fighter not like being in touch with his affectionate side?”

  The question raises my brow a notch. “You left out sexy.”

  “I believe you’re the one who said we balance each other out.”

  “I’ve got to bring you deeper into my side. You have an unfair advantage,” I say humorously with a touch of seriousness to it.

  “Unfair?” She cracks up. “How is it unfair?”

  “Your fucking smile makes me do shit.” I grin.

  I’m holding my breath watching her straddle my lap. “Exactly how far do I need to come to your side?” Her eyes are heavy and smoldering, penetrating me.

  I drop my head back on the head rest. “How far are you willing to come?

  Just like that, the air shifts between us. She slides her hands under the edge of my shirt and drags them up my chest. I lick my lips as she rocks her hips against my hard-on. I don’t move while I watch her.

  The thing with Whitney is she has confidence in certain circumstances, but she lacks it in the bedroom. Why? I have no fucking clue. She’s a goddess there.

  She presses her palms into my pecs. “I love how strong you are.”

  I know what she’s talking about, but I want to test all her limits. “What exactly are we talking about here?” I flex my hips into her.

  Her eyes flare with heat. “All of you,” she croons and then nibbles along my jawline. “You’re so sure of yourself. Your body. Your heart.”

  She places heavy kisses against my neck and unbuttons my pants. I’m gripping the seat, begging for my hands to allow her to be as greedy as she likes. I watch her spring my cock from its jean-clad hell cage and begin stroking it.

  Her grin is impish as she rakes her teeth along her bottom lip and lifts, bunching her skirt up, and placing me right at her entrance.

  I snatch her hip, stopping her with a warning glare.

  She peers down at me calculated and fully aware of the circumstances. “I’ve been on the pill for years.”

  “I’ve never not used a condom,” I admit with anticipation clawing my throat.

  “Me neither. Tell me I have nothing to worry about because if you’re going to give me all of you, I want to take all of you.” Her tone has a slight edginess to it.

  I don’t tell her but instead give her the answer by pulling her down onto my dick.

  Eu-fucking-phoria.

  I hiss as she sinks her wet pussy down on me. It’s a charge of excitement, one I wasn’t quite prepared for. It’s an onslaught of raw pleasure spiraling deep in my stomach. She takes all of me, releases a shaky and breathy pant, but then stops, and moves my hands off her.

  I flick my eyes to her. “Testing your limits and taking my control are two different animals,” I gruff.

  Silky lips brush against mine as she seductively shuts me up. “How much are you willing to test yourself?”

  She circles my palms with her finger, keeping completely still on my throbbing cock.

  “Please,” she begs with the sweetest, sex-fueled eyes.

  “I can’t promise for how long.” I give her the honest answer.

  She raises and falls, riding the fuck out of me. And I let her, hypnotized by
her fascinating grind, and roll against me.

  I’m white-knuckling my seat in a last ditched attempt to let her have the control. She braces her elbows beside my head and takes a long stride, dropping back onto me.

  “I love you.” It falls from her lips and cracks part of my restraint.

  I fucking love hearing those words from her.

  I buck upward. “Say it again.”

  “I love you,” she repeats, latching her eyes on me.

  She pushes up and gyrates her hips. I slide my hand under the bunched-up fabric and use my thumb to caress her clit. Immediately, her body jerks, and the walls of her pussy clamp around my dick. She starts to bounce with fierce plunges while I work her clit. I push under her bra and pinch her nipple. She drops her head back and moans toward the ceiling.

  “You’re so motherfucking breathtaking,” I groan low and coarsely.

  I can feel her pulsing around me and she slams her mouth against mine—something she does before she comes. Her breaths are short gaspy whimpers. Her hips work me faster, rising and falling at a frenzied pace. She’s fucking the hell out of me.

  “Ryker…” she gasps and it disintegrates all my restraint.

  I sit up, gripping her by the back of her neck, and heave her into me.

  Savagely, I buck upward. It’s a delicious game of tug of war. Her body constricts and she succumbs to her freefall, digging her nails into the fabric of my shirt against my shoulder blades. My grip around her neck tightens. The instant explosion of adrenaline jolts me, and I surge into her, blinded by the motherfucking blissful light.

  “Whit. Fuck. Fuck,” I growl between gritted teeth, jarring into her.

  I’m rooted as deeply as I can possibly be, allowing her bare pussy to squeeze me.

  She drops, resting her head on my shoulder, still taking short jagged breaths.

  A satisfied chuckle fills the cab as I regain my senses. “Being on my side isn’t so bad now, is it?”

  “Please tell me no one saw that?” she mumbles bashfully into my clavicle.

  “And she’s back,” I laugh.

  She moves off me, granting me a beautiful sight of her glistening slickness on my shaft before I tuck him back into my pants. She pulls her skirt back down and buries her flushed face into her hands.

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe I did that.”

  I pull her into my side and crook a finger under her chin tipping her face toward mine. “You. Are. Incredible.” I try snapping her out of her little freak out.

  Worry still drowns her eyes, but she smiles, resting her head against my hand. Heaven. I know what that shit feels like now, and I’m already thirsting for more.

  Chapter 20

  Ryker decided I was going whether I liked it or not. I won’t lie, I’m elated, nervous, proud, and scared shitless. This is where it all blurs. I’ve never lived on adrenaline, risk, and violence, yet here I am with Ryker in our hotel room, taking a shower and shaking like a damn leaf getting ready for his fight in mere hours.

  On the flight here, I listened to him and his coaches discuss “a long mile of new strategies” for Ryker to implement, how he’s been trained and has been training weeks for it. Unfortunately, everything sounded like a different language, falling on uneducated ears, and I was entirely lost. All I could deduce from all the lingo was he better guard his face. Ryker promises I’ll catch on and he’ll do his best to remember to explain things. I feel incredibly inadequate in his world.

  He hasn’t talked about it much, not like I assumed he would. Instead, all he’s told me was his opponent is known for hard left hooks because he’s a southpaw—which I learned has something to do with his stance because his strong hand is his left instead of his right. I don’t know if he was trying to take the edge off me, but he infused it more.

  Yesterday was the weigh-ins and it was definitely something different to experience. There were tons of people screaming their heads off—brute men, half-naked women, and many different coaches, not to mention the countless photographers snapping pictures.

  The energy in the place was intense and made it hard to breathe. The whole time Ryker didn’t really speak with the center of his attention on not losing his shit when he came face to face with Lascher. When it was his turn, he strolled up the stage, stripped from his shirt and stood on the scale. After his weight was announced, he smirked to the crowd and then walked over to his rather bulky opponent and posed for pictures. My heart braced for impact because they looked like they were going to kill each other right there. Seconds turned into what felt like hours, but then he was patted on the shoulder by a man in black. After that, he walked back across the stage lugging his shirt back over his head, back down the steps, grabbed my hand and we walked out.

  I believe that was my warmup and tonight I’ll be tossed in the fire.

  I dress in a pair of ripped up jeans and a navy-blue and white shirt with a tank top under it since it has a tendency to fall off my shoulders. After doing my makeup and pulling my hair half up, I step out of the bathroom and slide in my black flats.

  Ryker eyes me from head to toe, his face remaining completely emotionless as I brace for him to ruin all my efforts to look good for him. Since whatever the hell possessed me to have sex with him without protection, he’s been more primal than usual. It opened a door, one he takes full advantage of. He no longer has to worry about the condom leftovers. Instead I’m left with the remnants of our romps. He catches me off guard often, granting me with quickies anywhere he wants.

  Personally, I like my carelessness with the condom ordeal. It’s like I claimed my spot, declaring what’s mine in such a natural way and taking what no one else has.

  His gaze has been on me for so long, I’m starting to feel a bit self-conscious, worried I might have overstepped a boundary, and I point to myself. “Is this okay?”

  He blinks bringing his view to mine. “Yeah,” he answers. “You ready?” He’s clipped.

  That wasn’t expected but I smile anyway. “Whenever you are.”

  Ryker insists on me riding up front while he sits in the back. I almost start to argue, but one glance at Kyce’s “just do it” look, and I abandon and comply. Ryker rides in the back, listening to his headphones, zoned out, or maybe zoning in. Either way, his eyes are closed and he is nodding along with whatever he’s listening to.

  We’re directed to park in a specific area in the parking garage, which is already jam packed. We take an elevator down to the main floor and enter the building of bustling bodies through a side entrance. Big, large, burly men wearing black shirts with the word Security in bold yellow are hovering all over the place, at every corner, and in every open door we pass.

  I’m tucked into Ryker’s side as he and Kyce seem to know exactly where they’re going. We follow a hall with many name tags on metal clips in the center of the doors when I spot a familiar face. Daniel is leaned against the door frame looking down at his phone when he glances up and spots us. Then he motions for us.

  The moment we step into the room, I can feel the shift in the air. It’s thicker, more potent with testosterone and determination. It smells of dried sweat, old blood, and cleaning supplies…the combination isn’t a sweet one.

  Ryker lets go of my hand. “Sit over there while I get ready and warm up.” He tips his chin to a bench along the back wall. “Don’t move.”

  Maybe it’s the testosterone seeping into my veins, but the way he’s demanding me makes me want to buck the idea. Instead, I nod and do as I’m told.

  Flynn wraps his hands in a really pretty and vibrant blue as they sit across from each other in metal chairs. Kyce stands at Ryker’s side talking, and by the looks of his hand movements and the way his arms are tossing around, he’s pepping Ryker up.

  I watch Ryker stretch and then warm up by sparring between both trainers and Kyce. He’s not paid me a lot of attention, only glancing at me a few times, but I’m okay with that. This is his moment. His time to shine. The last thing he needs is me being a di
straction.

  Occasionally, the building vibrates from the crowd or the music, hazy in the distance. It causes prickles of nerves to claw at my skin and threatens to rip my stomach apart.

  A bang on the door causes me to yelp and I leap out of my skin and to my feet. Ryker’s eyes show laughter, but his expression remains blank and resigned.

  He stalks to me. “Stay with Kyce. Understand?”

  I feel at any given moment, my angst is going to explode and I’ll lose my shit, bursting in tears, begging him not to go out there. So I keep my mouth shut and nod.

  He places a chaste kiss to my lips, but when he pulls back his hardened eyes soften and his face cracks with a smile. “You gonna root for me?”

  As if he has to ask. I crinkle my nose. “No. I think I’m going for the other guy.”

  He puffs a chuckle. “Don’t place all your money on him. How about we make our own little wager?”

  Something about the mischievous way he’s looking at me causes a shiver to thread down my spine. “That is?”

  “When I win, you let me have my delicious way with you.”

  I settle back on my heel. “And if you lose?”

  That sexy arched brow I’ve come to yearn for shows up. “You think I will?”

  I shrug my shoulder pretending to be unperturbed, but cave into my guilt and answer him. “No.”

  The deep grumble shoots straight into my chest and makes heat warm my center. “Good. Expect to be fucked on every surface of the hotel room tonight.”

  He dips his head, kissing me tenderly, before straightening up and turning completely stoic again.

  Kyce grasps my arm and we start down the hall. I glance back, watching the cameras flood the doorway, and turn back exhaling. My nerves are front and center. He keeps a firm hand around my arm as he guides us through the halls and out to our seats. We’re really close to the ring with nothing between us but a walkway, empty space, and the black chain-linked fence atop the stage.

  “What do I do if I need to puke?” I ask more serious than not.

  Kyce belly laughs. “Keep it off my shoes.”