“Hardly,” he asserted.
Lightheaded, I inhaled. I felt like I was dreaming and I was terrified of waking up. We pulled into the parking garage next to the towering hotel shaped like a horseshoe.
“Hi, how can I help you?” The woman wearing a crisp blazer asked, clearly directing her attention towards Ford, who appeared oblivious.
“Yeah, I have a reservation.”
“Excellent, sir. I just need your driver’s license and credit card.”
Ford pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed his information to the captivated clerk.
“Okay,” she began as she punched keys on the computer. “Wilford Herveaux. You’ll be in room 2020. Unless you need two rooms?”
Ford’s face flushed red at the mention of his full name. I stifled a giggle watching him try to regain his composure.
The woman’s gaze darted between Ford and me. I saw it as an opportunity to loop my arm through his. “No need, I’ll be rooming with Wilford, here.”
He pulled me to his side. I grinned watching the girl squirm.
“In that case, you’re all set.”
“Thank ya’, ma’am.” He flashed a smile and coiled his arm around my waist. I knew he was doing it more for me than himself and I was already plotting ways to thank him for the gesture.
We hopped back in the truck and headed to the arena. Ford’s demeanor began to change. He grew quiet, intense.
He snatched his bag from the back of the pickup. “Hey, before we go in,” he started. Instead of finishing, he enveloped me in his arms and cradled me to his massive chest. I could feel his heart battering against his ribcage. I gazed up at him. The gleam in his eyes awakened my body. He dipped his head and claimed my mouth with his.
His kiss was different this time. Carnal. Violent.
I panted as he pulled away.
“When we go in I’ll have some stuff to take care of. I don’t want you to get lost in the shuffle, but it can be pretty hectic.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m here for the show. You worry about you and do what you need to do to win.”
That lopsided grin. Those panty-dropping dimples.
He reached for my hand and we walked in together. Masses of people rushed around with lights and camera. There were people hollering and photographers snapping pictures.
“Shit, it’s about time,” someone said from behind us. I recognized the weathered face from Champs. He rushed up to Ford with an entire entourage in tow.
“Hey Jake, this here is...”
Jake threw his hand up. “No time.”
Ford shot me a look and I responded with a wink to put him at ease.
“There’s our champ!”
The familiar voice belonged to the man with the familiar mustache.
“Lookie here, you brought a good luck charm. How you doin’, Dakota?”
“Hey Boss. I’m good. Just here to lend support.”
His bushy stache bounced as he laughed. He winked at me. “Sure thing, honey.” His expression grew serious as he looked back to Ford. “You ready, son?”
“Hell yeah.”
“That’s what I wanna hear.” Boss directed his attention back towards me. “Let’s get you a seat, doll.”
Ford and I gave each other a parting glance. We were both grateful that Boss was here to step in. He shuffled me through the stadium that was slowly starting to fill up and showed me to a front row seat.
“Surely this isn’t mine.”
Boss nodded. “It’s part of Ford’s VIP package. It’s not like he has anyone else come see him fight. It’s all yours.” He squeezed my hand before bouncing away. He was a real live wire.
His words gripped my heart like a vice. I was honored to be in Ford’s corner.
I sat for what seemed like hours. Music streamed in from the surrounding speakers. I wondered what was going on behind the scenes, but was also relieved to be out of chaos central.
Ring girls strutted around in revealing bikinis. There were a couple of small matches that took place before the room was even half-full. It was cool to be so close to the excitement, but I couldn’t concentrate while thinking about Ford. I had no idea until seeing the big screen that he was on the main card.
Finally, the lights faded, leaving a single spotlight in the center of the arena. A hush fell over the crowd and the music silenced, but only for a moment. “Last Resort” by Papa Roach blared. The spotlight panned across the room. Applause sounded as the announcer introduced the first fighter.
Kip Harding from Bossier City. He was a light heavyweight contender with a 7-4 record. He jogged down the ramp pumping his fists high in the air. He was a big man covered in tattoos. His head was shaved around the sides, allowing for a small ponytail off the top. He sneered and messed with the crowd on his way down. Once he was in the cage, he jumped around and hollered at the audience. I thought I heard a few boos, but overall I was impressed.
It was my first experience with MMA fighting, and I would never tell him, but I was concerned for Ford.
As I was observing the competition. The entire room fell dark. Everything silenced. Confused, my pulse quickened. The anticipation was agonizing. With the room still pitch black, the first few whispers of “Let the Bodies Hit the Floor” by Drowning Pool filled the arena. The spotlight landed on a breathtaking Ford. My heart stalled in my chest and I felt as if I had just been sucker punched in the gut.
“And now, introducing our current Light Heavyweight champion, here to defend his title, with a record of 11-0, Foooorrrd, the Pitbull, Herveauuuux.”
The crowd erupted and jumped to their feet. The tenacious audience was contagious and I did the same. I was so close to him. I saw him making his way down the ramp. As he drew closer, any worry I might have had after seeing Harding dissipated.
Ford’s chin was down. His steel blue eyes, glaring forward. His sculpted arms remained at his sides, but he clenched his fists. In fact, every inch of him was tight, his veins bulging. He sported a small pair of black shorts that looked to have sponsor logos on them.
The term pitbull seemed fitting. Gentle and kind at heart, but not someone you want to be on the business side of his wrath.
He passed by without a wavering glance in my direction. His gaze was hard as stone. His eyes wild, yet focused. He didn’t run or jog. He stalked his way to the cage. I had no idea how it was possible to be so disengaged from the crowd, yet still totally engaged. It was mesmerizing. Surreal and the audience was eating it up.
Ford stomped into the cage like a storm rolling in off the Gulf. Fierce, yet eerily calm. He didn’t yell or dance around. It gave me chills the way he locked eyes on the now obviously nervous Kip Harding, who was trying to show off for the crowd.
I would not want to be the one in the path of Hurricane Ford right now.
The announcer went on to cover what I guessed to be the usual details. “You can touch gloves now if you wish.” Harding put up his hands only to have Ford turn his back and prowl back to his side of the cage.
Before I knew it, both men charged at one another. Harding got in a good hook kick, but Ford recovered and retaliated with a tag to Harding’s left ear. They both worked jabs and combinations. Ford must have grown tired of the dancing around because as soon as there was an opening, he planted his foot right in the center of Harding’s chest, sending him reeling into the fencing.
I tried to listen to the commentator. He was saying something about Harding having an effective reach and Ford being the master of combinations.
Don’t I know it? I touched my fingers to my lips.
The referee broke them up. Harding used the time to toy with the crowd. Ford never took his eyes off his opponent as he paced a small patch of the mat. Like a predator eyeballing his prey. After a few seconds, they prepared for another round.
It’s go time.
Harding came out swinging with a flying elbow to Ford’s head. I watched as he shook it off and barreled into Harding, giving him a knee to
the gut. Harding doubled over. Ford proceeded to pound him in the head.
The referee stepped in, breaking them apart before allowing them to start again. This time Ford slips his arm under Harding’s and the crowd explodes as if they know something I don’t. Ford’s hand moved. His body pivoted and then I see it.
He literally bent Harding’s body in half, sending him backwards. Once he had him immobilized on the mat, Ford pinned his chest with his body weight. There was rolling and sliding. Then I saw Ford’s curled up frame strain with everything he had. His white teeth clenched. He squeezed his eyes shut with every vein fighting to break free.
The mob was hysterical as Harding tapped out, declaring Ford the Pitbull Herveaux the reigning Light Heavyweight champion. “Let the Bodies Hit the Floor” blasted through the stadium. The referee held Ford’s arm in the air.
My weightless body buzzed with adrenaline. I don’t know when it happened, but I was on my feet, cheering with the crowd and chanting Ford’s name.
Boss and Jake rushed the cage, clapping Ford on the back and shoulders. Everything happened so fast. Before Kip Harding even had a chance to get up off the floor completely, Ford found me in all the chaos. The hard, dangerous stare gave way to the familiar, intoxicating blue. I didn’t know which Ford I wanted more. I intended on relishing both.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After celebratory drinks, Ford and I made a quick beeline for our room. He wore his swollen eye and bruises as a badge of honor. His cheek had already turned a bright shade of reddish purple. His lip was busted in two different places and both ears were battered and red.
Ford fell backwards onto the massive, king size bed. “Damn, it feels good to finally be alone.”
“Yeah, it was a hectic day. Do you do this often? Fight, I mean?”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “A few times a year. Makes good money.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I should say so. A 12-0 record isn’t too shabby.”
“Impressed ya’, did I?
“Always.” So what’s your plan for all that dough?” I watched him strip away his shirt. His huge muscles shifted with every movement.
He rested against the headboard and kicked off his boots and socks. “You mean other than wining and dining you?”
I tilted my head and rolled my eyes.
“Okay,” he waved his hands and smirked. “Well, I’m saving up to buy Champs.”
“Seriously? Boss is selling the club?”
“He’s not in a hurry or anything. We worked out a deal. He’s not looking for any other buyers. He wants me to have it. Actually, he wanted to take over and pay him when the funds come in, but I’m not comfortable with that. I want to pay up first.”
“Wow, that’s a great opportunity. It sure as hell beats working for a bank.”
“You know you have a passion for fitness. You should think about getting your certifications. Find a gym. I happen to know one that should be hiring soon.” Ford flashed his dimples. “We could start working on your technique now.”
He snagged me by the waist and pulled me onto the bed.
“Still okay with this?” He asked with a serious expression.
I didn’t respond with words. I slipped off my shoes, followed by my jeans. I was surprised by my own brazen behavior since I had always been ashamed of my body. But everything about this man put me at ease. He made me feel like a goddess.
I was thankful that I thought ahead to shave and wear sexy underwear.
Thanks, Megan.
The fiery glint in Ford’s eyes gave me the courage to go on. I tugged my shirt over my head and bravely stood before him in my matching red bra and panties. My light skin nearly glowed in contrast to the silky fabric.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He pulled me in and grazed my back with his fingertips. My pulse soared as he unhooked the strap. I allowed the bra to fall away. My heart pounded harder when I saw him gulp.
I squealed when he suddenly took me by the waist and tossed me onto the bed. “Okay, defend your title. Show me what you got?”
Hovering over me, Ford leered. His handsome face burned with desire. “I’m about to put you in a body lock that will have you screaming for submission.”
Shit!
His hot, searing tongue brushed against my skin, skimming over my lips and down my milky chest, finding my ample breasts and circling my erect nipples. Blood rushed to all of the hypersensitive points of my eager body. He cupped one round mound while claiming the other for himself. I writhed under his weight.
With one hand, he reached down while attending to my rosy skin and slipped off my panties. I wiggled, allowing him to work them off my body and dropping them to the floor. He opened my legs with his demanding knee and moved one hand between my legs. I moaned when his masculine fingers teased my wet flesh. He toyed with the folds before finally gliding one long finger inside.
Ford’s warm lips were still dedicated to my swollen, aching breasts. I cried out as he slid in a second finger. He worked my tight sex as if he had done it a thousand times before, possessing every part of me.
“Shit, I can’t take it anymore. I have to taste you.” He slithered down the bed, dragging his ruthless tongue along my begging body. He hooked both legs over his strong shoulders and gripped my ass, tugging me towards him. With long, committed swipes, his tongue explored my aching slit. His own groans escaped as he worked his way to my firm clit, kneading it with his skillful mouth until I couldn’t hold it any longer.
His fingers dig into my ass. He refused to stop while I shoved my hands into his hair as my body bucked under the final swipe of his tongue. I collapsed into onto the bed. Ford’s dangerous eyes stirred deep inside my soul.
He ripped off his shirt before pulling a foil package from his wallet, sticking it between his teeth while he unbuttoned his jeans. He shoved them to the floor, revealing a pair of tight, black boxers. The tip of his hard cock peeking out the top.
My lips tingled as my body hummed in anticipation. The throbbing between my legs begging to take him. He tugged off his underwear, allowing his mammoth sized erection to spring free. He never broke his smoldering gaze as he ripped open the package and rolled the condom down his long shaft.
He climbed across the bed, skating his fingertips along my body, starting with my legs and working his way up. He settled between my legs. I felt the head of his cock press against my molten flesh.
He sank into me, his full length taking my breath. He propelled his body into mine. I moaned in pleasure with every thrust. Ford’s mouth devoured mine. I felt the vibration of his heart hammering away in his chest. His strokes became quicker. Harder. Deliberate. I rolled my hips, allowing him to go even deeper. His eyes rolled and he tossed his head backwards.
My pulsating sex constricted around him as a second orgasm blasted through my body, causing his hips to pump into me until he was empty. His massive hands cinched my ass harder with every gush.
I had never experienced anything like it before. I could lose myself in him, but at the same time, I didn’t feel lost anymore. Every part of him was new and refreshing. Every glance. Every touch. I wanted to experience him, and only him, forever.
“Shit,” he mumbled before falling to my side. My body still quivering. “I could do that all damn day.” He got up and disappeared into the restroom before jumping on the bed. He settled in beside me and cradled my head to his chest.
“You’re perfect,” he said, planting a kiss on my forehead.
I trailed my fingers along his glossy skin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“No regrets?”
I gazed up at him. “Not a one. You?”
“Only that I have to wait a few minutes before going again.”
I snickered, only because I felt the same way.
“So, were you serious about what you said earlier?” I asked.
He furrowed his brow. “What part?”
“About getting certified. Do you really think I could do that? I
mean, I have a business degree, but it’s not doing me any good. You really think I could train for a living?”
“Hell yeah. I think you’d be amazing.”
“What about being in the cage? You think I could do that too one day?”
Ford popped up. His sated expression grew serious. “Like a ring girl?”
My face twisted. “No way! I want to fight!”
A wild glint filled his eyes. “Are you serious? You know it’s not something that’s easily accepted among the MMA community.”
“Just makes me want it more.”
“Shit, we can get started on your cardio right fucking now.” He rolled on top of me with the same heated expression from before.
“Don’t you need a salad or something for strength,” I teased.
“Woman, seriously, you really are going to be the death of me.”
“I guess you’ll just have to whip me into submission.”
His chest heaved with that blazing, fiery glint in his eyes. “Challenge accepted.”
The End
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Kimmie is an Amazon International bestselling author who grew up traveling the country, rarely settling in one place for much longer than a minute. Being no stranger to heartache, she allows her unconventional childhood to fuel her writing.
Kimmie is addicted to all things books, wine, cupcakes, and flip-flops. She is a homeschool momma, southern wife and pug wrangler.
Kimmie can be found somewhere in the south writing wine worthy stories.
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