Dirty Trick

by Mickey Miller

  “We really shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered, but it was a token protest. I was a very good girl for Connor and I deserved everything he gave me.

  His thumbs worked my thong down, and I quivered as the cool air conditioned air swept over my pussy. Damn the man. With just a few hot words and a couple touches and I was liquefied for him.

  “You’re thinking too much. Wouldn’t you be able to handle those shitehawks better after I’ve made you come repeatedly?”

  He had a point.

  I wiggled my hips, and Connor’s massive, scarred hands smoothed over the now exposed curve of my ass.

  “Yes,” I whispered again. But what else could I say when Connor had his thumb stroking my clit, causing the little button to throb and my pussy to clench with want.

  “Mm, look at this pretty little pussy of yours. I don’t know what I want to shove into it first: my tongue or my cock.”

  I couldn’t handle it when he started spitting all that dirty talk at me in his Irish accent. I closed my eyes and fisted the sheets, losing myself to the sublime sexual spell Connor wrapped me up in. We were so irresponsible, ditching a meeting just to have a tumble in a hotel room.

  When I didn’t respond, Connor grazed one of my cheeks with a sharp slap, and I jerked on the bed. “I didn’t hear your answer, Princess.”

  “I want you inside me! Please!”

  Connor stroked his hand up my spine, and tangled his fingers in my hair. I quivered when he got a fistful and reeled back, forcing me into a perfect position. “I love the way you look like this.”

  I bit my lip as my mind latched onto that four-letter word. It was so casual, but lately I’d been thinking too much about how I felt about him. Once we crossed over to sleeping together, and not just the one-time thing but spending every night with him inside me, and every morning waking up in his arms, I couldn’t deny that he’d burrowed his way into my heart.

  And it scared the hell out of me.

  “Connor,” I moaned as if this lust would save me from the emotional whammy I was drowning beneath.

  He surprised me by tugging me up onto my knees, and then flipping me onto my back. I sprawled over the luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets, and felt like the Princess he called me. After spending a month without all this finery, I was nearly overwhelmed.

  “I want to look into your eyes as I fuck you,” he breathed down at me, his intensity a sucker punch to my heart.

  I bit my lip to stop from professing how I felt about him. How could I be in love with him in such a short period of time? While I hadn’t ever been in love before, I’d seen it firsthand between my parents before my dad died.

  I closed my eyes, and tried to blot out the sight of him. He wasn’t having it though, not as he shoved my dress up around my hips, and leaned over to blow a gust of hot breath over my hotter pussy.

  “Fuck,” I whimpered and spread my thighs wider.

  “Eyes up here, Princess. You don’t get to hide those pretty blues.”

  Did he know what he was doing to me? Connor was unravelling me, bulldozing with his usual devil may care attitude through the walls I’d built.

  I was vulnerable to him, and afraid what that meant. He said he wanted me to be his girl. He promised me this wasn’t just an island fling. But, that required putting so much faith in him, and I wasn’t sure I was capable of it.

  “Watch,” he commanded again.

  I was helpless against his order as I feast on my prizefighter. Connor McGrath in a suit was the best sort of porn. I licked my lips as he loosened the skinny tie he wore with a casual, debonair flair, and then bit my inner cheek when he tossed it aside and began pulling at the buttons on his shirt. With each flick of his blunt fingers, more of his rugged appeal was revealed. He shrugged the expensive fabric off, and folded it neatly with his suit jacket, revealing his ripped body and the tattoos that adorned him like a roadmap of where he’d been in life. I wouldn’t deny I was obsessed with the phoenix which was inked over his chest. He could have fallen like so many great fighters before him. Been lost to booze and drugs, only to be remembered in his obituary years later of what a great talent he’d been.

  Instead, he’d pulled himself back to fighting form, and better.

  “What are you thinking,” he asked as he drew his belt free. He snapped it into the air with a playful leer, and I quivered before him.

  “I was admiring your tattoos.”

  “For such a good Southern belle, you really like when I’m bad, don’t you Princess.”

  He and I were such opposites. In any other time, we’d never have gotten together. But that was only if I wasn’t being true to myself.

  “I fucking love the bad,” I whispered, getting a taste of vulgarity on my tongue and flashing him a naughty smile.

  Connor shucked his pants, and per usual, he was commando. His big dick curved towards his navel, and my pussy clenched all over again. I still couldn’t believe I could take all of him, nor how good it felt to do it.

  “Keep your legs open.”

  I didn’t dare disobey. I was mostly fully dressed, and he was naked. It was so damn sinful my womb quivered and my pussy dripped with my juices. Despite how my muscles tensed, desperate to close and preserve my chastity, I kept myself open for him.

  The bed jiggled beneath me as he knelt on the edge. He pressed a kiss to my ankle right above the delicate strap of my high heel. “This is what dreams are made of.”

  I tilted my head. “What is?”

  “You spread on a bed, in a fancy room, looking every inch the debutante.”

  I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. He knew I was from a small town in Mississippi, and definitely not a debutante.

  His lips skimmed my calf as he crawled higher. “And.” He dropped a kiss to my knee. “You.” Another kiss to my inner thigh. “Are.” His mouth hovered over my pussy. “All. Mine.”

  His tongue lashed out and licked my pouty nether lips, and I squeezed my thighs around his face at the overwhelming urge to rub myself against his face.

  Connor slapped my thigh. “Open,” he growled.”

  I moaned and spread for him again.

  He rose between my thighs, as hard as marble veined with black ink. I drank in the sight of him, sketching his broad shoulders, and lean torso lightly sprinkled with red hair, before I stared down the massive pole rearing between his thighs.

  I needed him inside me in the worst way.

  He lewdly smirked at me, and circled his hand casually around himself. He gave a slow stroke which brought forth a glossy bead of pre-cum to the head. “Do you want this, Princess?”

  I hated how he made me beg, but loved it too. I rolled my hips upwards as if I could tempt him. “Yes!”

  “You were so feisty at the meeting.”

  I couldn’t believe he was bringing that up while he jerked his cock in front of me. How was I supposed to focus on what he was saying when he was waving that thing around in front of me?

  “They deserved it.”

  “Do you think they are here to sign me, or are they just jerking my string.” His tongue ran over his teeth as he accented “jerk” with a hard tug of his shaft.

  “Oh, my Lord, Connor stop talking!”

  He laughed and leaned over me. One hand braced near my shoulder, while he angled his cock right against my sex. I gasped. The only part of his body touching mine was the bulbous head of his dick rubbing over my slit.

  “You want this, Princess?”

  I moaned and wrapped my thighs around him. “Yes. Talk later!”

  He loved getting me like this, desperate and insatiable. I saw the truth of his enjoyment gleam in his hazel eyes. He pushed subtly, and that huge knob spread my lips slowly. I groaned at how good it felt, and he answered me. “I feckin’ love taking you bare like this.”

  It was so dangerous for us too. I knew it. Yes, I was on the pill, but it wasn’t 100% full proof. Yet, we both gambled each time he pumped inside me and filled me with his cum.

>   “I love feeling you bare too,” I panted. I was a dirty girl underneath my trappings of respectability. It took Connor and his filthy mouth to bring it out of me, but now that it was? I never wanted to pretend to be anyone else.

  I never wanted anyone but Connor.

  “Feck, I can’t control myself with you.” He cupped my nape and pulled me into a desperate, tongue-seeking kiss right as he pumped forward. He slammed every veined inch of his dick inside me, filling me with that hot friction which drove me absolutely insane.

  My heels drove into his ass as I caged him between my thighs, and pulled him onto me. I knew why he was fucking me with my dress on. He wanted me to smell like him, like raw, filthy sex, for the rest of the day.

  For Connor, I was a good girl and gave him everything he wanted.

  “Fuck me, Connor, please.”

  He withdrew his hips and pounded into me deep and hard, hitting all my sweet spots, and making me scream so loud I was kind of glad it was in the middle of the day so the people in the rooms next to us wouldn’t hear my wails.

  “As you wish,” he taunted.

  Then, he gave me everything I wanted in return.

  There was no fixing my hair as we rode the elevator back down to the restaurant. I’d swiped a small brush I kept stowed in my purse through it, but I had sex hair. Connor grinned at me every time I fiddled with it, until I gave up and twisted it into a bun.

  “They are going to know what we just did,” I muttered as I smoothed my hand over my dress.

  Connor looked fresh as a daisy in his suit. I was on the edge of rumpled, and though I’d cleaned up the mess he’d made of me, the subtle aroma of sex still lingered in my nose.

  Connor wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. “They won’t. That requires them to get their heads out of their asses, and to see me as anything other than an Irish gutter rat. You heard them earlier when you gave me credit for this fight.”

  Though he was trying to pretend like their words hadn’t wounded him, I heard the hidden pain. I spun in place and ran my hand down Connor’s arm. “Don’t let them get to you.”

  Connor frowned and glanced away. “What if this doesn’t work?”

  I bit my lip. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard the doubt in his voice, but this was the first time he’d expressed it so bluntly. “What? The contract?”

  Connor shook his head. “Everything. What if I lose to El Toro? What if I don’t get the contract? Feck, Crystal, I’m not even sure if I believe they are here to offer one.”

  I winced. I was worrying about that too. The suits looked as if this was an all-expenses paid vacation, and not them about to shell out millions. “You can’t think of it like that.”

  “I can’t help it. I don’t want to be a fighter my whole life. Yeah, when I was younger I thought this was the shit. But I feel the stress it takes on my body. Feck, my damn knees hurt, and the thought of doing this until I can’t walk like all those famous wrestlers, or getting that brain disease which affects the football players, scares me. I want to retire on top, not stay in the game because I can’t afford to quit.”

  “Oh, Connor,” I said. I cupped his face and forced him to look at me. “Whatever happens, I’ll be at your side. You know that, right? If those jerks think they can string us along, they have another thing coming.”

  His mouth twitched in a smile. “Oh yeah? That sounds kind of serious. You committing yourself to my career? It could be a long one.”

  I bit my lip. I wasn’t committing myself to his career. But him.

  I swallowed, trying to force back the words that longed to spill free.

  I love you.

  I wasn’t saying it first. My smile felt brittle as I nodded my head. “Yeah, committing myself to your career. I’ll be your style coach as long as Jeff keeps paying me,” I joked.

  My joke sounded flat to me, and Connor must have heard the soft hitch in my words, because his eyes narrowed.

  “Well, if Jeff quits paying you, I’ll just put you on my payroll. You can thank me with a blow job later.”

  I punched him in the shoulder, and then immediately regretted it because it was like punching a wall. “You’re a pig.”

  “And you love it,” he said as he wound his arms around me and pulled me tightly into his chest.

  Tears suddenly stung the back of my eyes. I was setting myself up for heartbreak. I just knew it, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Connor had me caught on a line, and whether he knew it or not, he was playing with me.

  The elevator let loose a soft ding as we reached the lobby, and he let me go. Though the echo of his touch remained behind. Marshalling every bit of my tattered control, I walked out ahead of Connor and together we returned to the restaurant.

  The Zoreto representatives were still there with fresh cocktails, and curious eyes. A quick glance at my watch told me we’d been gone closer to forty minutes than twenty.

  Connor pulled out my seat with nonchalant chivalry, and I settled in. He sat beside me.

  “Have you had a chance to look over those e-mails and reports,” I said coolly.

  The first suit, also the one who had been egging on El Toro and Connor at the first meeting, met my eyes. I didn’t like him. He was everything that was wrong with the business, pandering to people, playing with their livelihood, and offering them gold that turned out to be fool’s gold.

  “We have,” he said.

  He flashed Connor a shark-like smile, and I just knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

  15 - Connor

  Back at our hut, I was going bonkers. I hadn’t been this mad since I lost my only fight, years ago.

  “Those fucking Zoreto gobshites,” I huffed, running my hand through my hair as I paced back and forth outside of our place. I’d about leapt across the table and grabbed that Zoreto piece of shit by the throat when they’d told me the news, no exaggeration. Maybe the only thing that stopped me was the fact that Crystal was sitting across from me and I didn’t want her to see a man torn to shreds in broad daylight. As it was, the villagers who were walking by us were gawking at me, and I couldn’t blame them. I was yelling so loudly; my voice could probably be heard on the other side of the island.

  “It’ll be okay,” Crystal spoke softly, trying to pace back and forth with me. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “Figure something out? What are we going to figure out? That was the whole point of this bloody tournament! I put all my goddamn eggs in this basket, and it was going smooth as a baby’s bum until those feckin’ areshole cunts spoofed us so they could have a tax-free business expense of a vacation! They banjaxed the shit out of us, and I can’t feckin’ calm down.”

  “Are you speaking English right now?” Crystal snapped back, and it dawned on me that in my tizzy, I’d just spat out a whole bunch of Irish slang. It tended to happen when my temper kicked in.

  My chest heaved with anger and tension. I was so worked up I was sweating. Crystal, though, just stood there in the sun, her eyes wide, jaw open as she stared at me. Part of me felt like running to the edge of the island and maybe jumping the hell off the cliff, but then I wouldn’t get to see her sexy smile again. Or those legs. Feck. Worked up as I was, my dirty mind still raced with thoughts of her.

  She crossed her arms and took several steps toward me, focusing her blue eyes at me and squinting through the bright daylight.

  I get it, Connor.” Her voice took on an authoritative tone. “You think I’m happy that I just spent a full fucking month working toward a golden egg that turned out to be hollow? Yeah, it sucks. I wouldn’t have come here if I would have known those guys were going to turn out to be a bunch of spoofing gobshites.”

  Through my haze of rage, I couldn’t help but quirk up one of the corners of my mouth when I heard my debutante say those words. I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm myself, but shit, I was still bleeding mad.

  “Let’s just get inside so I can change out of this f
eckin’ monkey suit.” I tugged at my collar. Who was I kidding anyway? I wasn’t some corporate businessman fit to wear an expensive suit. I was just some poor thug from Ireland who’d tricked the whole world. If I belonged anywhere, it was the ring.

  Inside our cabana, I quickly undid the buttons, huffing with each one. I’d never known it was possible to even undo buttons with rage, but that’s what I did. Once they were off, I flipped my shirt off, too, shucked my shoes and socks and unbuttoned my pants. I threw on a pair of basketball shorts, thinking I might go for a run to shed some of this heat bubbling up inside me again. One hundred million, out the window. Though it wasn’t even the money as much, as what it symbolized. It would have been the biggest deal of any MMA athlete, ever. Plus, the things I could do with that kind of money. I still had a dirt poor family back home. And then there was the dream house I needed to get for my ma.

  I spun back around, expecting to see Crystal’s half-dressed pretty ass, but she wasn’t inside. I’d been ruminating so much, I hadn’t noticed if she’d left or where she went.

  I looked for my running shoes and practically bounded outside when I had them on. I just needed to see her, get another look at her before I left to remind myself that no matter what happened, I had a smoking hot southern princess at my side. Maybe she was too proper and fancy, and needed ten different pairs of shoes on a weekly basis--so what. I wanted her. Hell, maybe I even loved her. Shit, love. It had been a while since I’d thought about that word.

  I was greeted outside by a fresh breeze, and glanced around the outside greenery, wondering where she was. I walked around to the back of the house, and what I saw sent all the blood in my body to my rapidly engorging cock.

  Crystal kneeled in the dirt, in a pair of denim short shorts, gym shoes, and a tank top, no bra. I could tell from the way her tits dangled straight down. I’d been so focused on training these last months, it hadn’t even fully registered with me that she’d started a garden behind her house--I honestly had just thought it was the neighbors tending to it.