Grudge Match

by Jessica Gadziala

  He leaned downward toward me, not wanting anyone to hear, probably, but still, when his warm breath tickled my ear, it felt incredibly intimate. "I think you're right," he told me as my belly spun around deliciously. "You want to stay to see if you are, or come someplace quiet for a few?"

  Was that even a question?

  I nearly flew off my seat in my excitement to go someplace quiet with Ross. Where he might whisper things in my ear that weren't quite so tame.

  As soon as I was on my feet, his hand was at my lower back, leading me past the crowd.

  "Guess she is your friend, huh, Ross?" the biker from the door asked, clearly ribbing his boss, though I wasn't on the inside enough to know exactly how or why.

  "Watch it, Laz," Ross said, but there wasn't any real malice in his voice as I was led to a door off to the wayside of the area, and then shuffled into his office.

  The door closed behind me and there was the distinct click of a lock sliding into place.

  Alone.

  We were alone.

  In his office that in no way looked like a typical office - all cheap desks and ergonomic chairs, with brads and alligator clips all over the desk, piles of paper haphazard all over.

  No.

  Ross Ward liked his workspace neat.

  He also liked it to match the upscale vibe of the rest of Hex.

  The desk was executive, the deepest you could stain a wood before it would be considered black. The chair butted up against it was black leather, tufted, and looked like you could spend all day sitting in it without getting sore.

  There was a cupholder with pens. But not normal Bics that you could get like a dozen for two dollars at Staples. Oh, no. These were those pens that they put on display that you had to special order. I didn't see one single sheet of paper, or any other office supplies.

  Behind the desk lining one whole wall were a dozen computer screens, showing various feeds from inside and outside the building.

  "You got them fixed," I observed, needing something to say because he was just standing beside me, and things were starting to feel a bit awkward.

  "Yeah," he agreed, moving forward behind the desk, prompting me to move toward the side of it to look at the various images moving before me. "They figure some animal got to the wires. Never had an issue with that before, but there's a first time for everything I guess."

  My eyes moved between the screens, pausing for a second when I saw a man grab his dates ass from under her skirt.

  "Feels a bit like God sometimes," he admitted, watching me watch the couple. "You see it all."

  "And no one sees you," I agreed, looking over at him.

  "That's the best part," he said a second before his lips crashed down on mine.

  His hand went to the back of my neck again, the other sinking into my hip, pushing me backward until my butt hit the desk, then coaxing me up.

  And when a hot man in a locked office wanted you up on the desk, up you got.

  My skirt hiked as my butt landed, as my feet left the floor.

  His teeth nipped my lower lip, dragging a moan out of me as his body pressed into my knees, forcing them fully open so he could step in between. The smooth material of his suit pants rubbed against my inner thighs, sending a surge of desire so strong that it made my hips buck slightly upward into him, feeling his hard cock press against my slit.

  His growl met my whimper as his lips ripped from mine, trailing down the column of my neck, sending shivers through my body.

  Feeling them, his gaze lifted, his dark eyes heated, as one of his fingers landed at my knee, then slowly started moving upward.

  He watched me intently, maybe looking for any sign of hesitation, or maybe just enjoying seeing my reaction as his hand slid under the hem of my skirt, teased over the ultra-sensitive, soft skin of my inner thighs.

  One of my hands was braced behind me, but the other moved out to hold his bicep, trying to prevent him from pulling away at the last moment.

  I needed it.

  I needed his touch like I needed to keep breathing.

  "Ross, please," I begged, too far gone to care.

  On a low rumbling sound in his chest, his finger slid slightly outward, avoiding where I needed it most, and tracing up the space where my panties met my inner thigh.

  Then, incredibly, frustratingly, they kept moving outward, from under my skirt, up my belly, the side of my breast, up toward the strap of my dress.

  Desire was a pulsating, throbbing need.

  And he had no plans to give me any relief from it?

  Just as the thought formed, however, his hand moved over and down, grabbing the material of my dress, and dragging it down to expose my breast.

  Before I could even drag in a breath, his mouth had closed around the hardened peak, sucking it in deep, and making a too-loud moan rip from somewhere deep inside.

  It had been so long.

  His hand went up, pulling the material off my other breast, freeing it to his hands seeking fulfillment as his tongue moved out to swirl circles around my nipple.

  My back arched so my chest jutted, making me feel unsteady, so my legs moved up toward his hips, closing around tight, holding on, as his mouth shifted to take possession of my other hardened peak.

  Just when I was sure I couldn't take the torment another second longer, his mouth left me, the air making the wet buds harden all the more. His eyes lifted to hold mine as the hand on my hip shifted down, pressing into my clit through my panties, making me see white for a second, sure I was going to come just like that.

  "Fucking soaked," he growled.

  "I've been thinking of you since you left last night," I admitted, it being the damn truth. I tossed and turned. I woke up frustrated. As I planned my night out, I had been antsy and needy, silently hoping for just this to happen.

  Why?

  I wasn't sure.

  I wasn't a random hook-up kind of girl.

  I generally only got handsy with men I was at least somewhat committed to.

  But, then again, I had never come across a man anything like Ross Ward before.

  So I was going to go ahead and call it a moment of insanity from staring at something so perfect, so other-worldly beautiful.

  It seemed like a suitable excuse.

  "I've had the same problem," he admitted as well. "And now I can't stop until I get a fucking taste," he added, making a thrill of anticipation rack through me as suddenly his finger wasn't pressing into my clit, but rather he was grabbing the lacy swatch of black material that was my panties, and ripped them out of the way.

  Before I could even suck in a breath, he was lowering down, hands moving to my hips, dragging me to the edge of the desk toward his hungry mouth.

  He guided my legs over his shoulders then moved his tongue up my inner thigh, getting to the furthest point before sinking his teeth in hard.

  The pain was unexpected, making my hips jerk up.

  But that must have been what he was counting on.

  Because even as I yelped, his face shifted, and his tongue worked a circle around my throbbing clit.

  "Oh, my God," I whimpered, hand slamming down at the back of his head, holding him against me in case he had any ideas of teasing me.

  But the second I felt him start working me, it was clear that wasn't his intention - to hint at something he wasn't going to make good on.

  Oh, no.

  Ross Ward was dedicated.

  His tongue circled; his lips sucked.

  He moved downward, curling his tongue, thrusting it inside me, and fucking me with it until my muted whimpers became ragged moans, even ardent begging.

  His tongue slid back up my lips, once again claiming my clit even as his hand moved between us, his finger teasing at my opening before thrusting inside.

  He didn't fuck me with it, though, even as the pressure inside seemed ready to burst. Instead, he turned it inside me, curled it, and raked it over my top wall as he suddenly sucked in my clit.

  And i
t happened.

  It burst.

  In a brilliant, blinding, world-shaking wave that had me crying out his name, completely oblivious to the hundreds of people just a couple feet away.

  He moved upward, brushing up the center of my stomach, then nestled between my breasts, before planting a kiss to the column of my neck.

  "Fucking better than I imagined," he growled into my skin, the sound reverberating through my system.

  But then his arms were on my hips again, pulling me with him as he moved to sit on his chair, situating me to straddle him, his hand framing one side of my face.

  Then he stared, a depth in his dark eyes that I not only didn't understand, but made me feel uncomfortable. "Ross--"

  "This is the part," he interrupted, "where I have to be a good man, and tell you that if you're smart, you will stay the fuck away from me."

  Surprised, my brows drew together as my brain scrambled to think clearly through the post-orgasm feel-good hormones.

  "Why would I want to do that?" I asked, wanting to understand where his mind was.

  "I'm no good for a girl like you, Addy." If I wasn't mistaken, there was regret in his voice.

  "Why? Because of Hex?" I pressed.

  "Partly, yes. You're a good girl, doll. You don't need to get wrapped up with my shit."

  The thing was, I kind of wanted to.

  "Last I checked," I started, feeling my belly flutter when his thumb started stroking my jaw gently, "good girls don't let men they hardly know go down on them with hundreds of people one room away."

  A choked, unexpected laugh moved through him, letting his lips curve up high enough to actually make his eyes dance.

  Let me tell you, it was a really good look.

  "Maybe I'm just a bad influence," he suggested.

  "Maybe you're just that irresistible."

  The lips tipped up again, but he shook his head at me.

  "You should walk away now."

  "Why?"

  "Because I get a feeling that I won't let you go if this continues."

  "Well, maybe I'm okay with--"

  There was an abrupt rapping on the door, surprising me enough that I jerked hard backward, and would have fallen on my butt if Ross hadn't had quick reflexes, and grabbed me.

  "You're at work," I remembered, heart thudding hard as I climbed off his lap, stooping down to grab the swatch of fabric that used to be my panties that had fallen when he had moved us.

  I reached to drag my dress back up in the front, covering my breasts, then made sure my skirt was settled as Ross just watched me with that deep gaze of his before the knocking started again, making him move to stand on a resigned sigh.

  He touched my hip as he passed me on his way to the door, unlocking it, and pulling the door open.

  And there was a shirtless man standing there, presumably a fighter, his body a mass of bruises and still-bleeding cuts.

  "What do you want?" Ross growled, making the man stiffen.

  "Just letting you know I won," the man said.

  And while Ross was blocking the doorway almost completely with his wide body, there was a weird tug inside. The man's voice had a strange, almost familiar ring to it.

  Which was weird.

  Because there was no way I had ever known some underground fighter guy.

  "Good," Ross said. "Is that all?"

  "Yeah, I guess--"

  And with that, Ross moved out of the way, slamming the door in the man's face.

  But not before I got a look at him.

  Ross had barely turned back to me when I felt myself falling backward into the chair we had both just vacated.

  Because my entire head was spinning.

  I felt like the floor had opened up beneath me and was swirling, trying to suck me in.

  "Addy?" Ross asked, but I couldn't quite see him as my brain seemed at battle with itself, fighting something, or trying to uncover something. "Addy what's the matter?" he asked, sounding closer, like he had moved across the room without me noticing.

  "Who was that?" I heard myself asking even though the thought hadn't seemed to even cross my mind before it came out of my mouth.

  "Kenny?" Ross asked, sounding confused as his hands pressed down on my knees. "Babe, what's going on?"

  Kenny.

  Whatever battle that was going on in my head seemed to culminate in some massive jolt of recognition.

  And just like that, it came back.

  The entire day.

  I had woken up, like I remembered, and had my coffee, got dressed for work, filled a to-go coffee cup to bring with me because I hadn't slept that well, and I didn't want to get sleepy over the endless amount of paperwork.

  Nothing interesting had happened until late that afternoon. When the three o'clock appointment showed up.

  "Adalind," Ross called, voice a lot more forceful.

  "I remember," I admitted on a strange hiss.

  "Remember what?"

  "Kenny," I told him as the memories kept coming.

  Kenneth Depta. He had a three o'clock with Dr. Wilmer, the chiropractor I worked for. I had thought he was going to be a no-show since we asked all new patients to show up at least ten minutes before their appointment so they could fill out the paperwork. But then he rolled in at three o'clock on the dot.

  I had been pissed at the time, hating people who set the rest of the day off track because they were oh-so-important that the rules didn't apply to them, not caring that by being late it meant that all subsequent appointments would be later, which meant that Dr. Wilmer and I would be stuck at work longer than we had to be.

  Because someone was that disrespectful of other peoples' time.

  Rudeness.

  I was raised to detest it.

  So as I raised my head, I was prepared to give him my death glare as I handed him his paperwork.

  Except my eyes fell on the man named Kenneth Depta.

  And all my anger flooded away.

  Because, well, he was just an extremely good-looking guy with his tall, solid build, square jaw, light blue eyes, and easy smile.

  "I know, I know," he said, shaking his head a little self-deprecatingly, "I'm that asshole who can't show up when he is supposed to. Luckily, I write quickly," he told me, giving me a panty-melting smile. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

  "Adalind," I had supplied, charmed.

  What could I say? I didn't see a ton of really good-looking men at my job. Usually, they were older. As in, much older. Or women. You didn't often find men under thirty at a chiropractor.

  And, as I have mentioned, I hadn't had a man in a long time, hadn't really even had a chance to interact with one.

  So I was eating it up.

  He had been called in for his appointment a few minutes later, making me rush off to the bathroom to make sure my hair looked alright and I had nothing in my teeth.

  The door clicked open as I pretended to be busy as he walked back out, stopping in front of me.

  "Need to make another appointment?" I asked, hoping for any chance to keep a conversation going, wondering if maybe something else could stem from it.

  "Sort of."

  "Sort of?" I asked, brows drawing together.

  "My shoulder feels a lot better. But I seem to be having another problem."

  "Really?" I asked, looking down at his chart, not seeing any other injuries noted.

  "Yeah," he said, dropping his elbows down on the counter to get closer to eye-level with me. When I looked up, his head was tipped slightly to the side, and his eyes had been focused on my lips for a long second before they lifted to hold my gaze. "I seem to not have a date to my show tonight."

  Yes!

  I didn't even need to see him a second time to try to get something going.

  You had to appreciate a man who saw what he wanted, and then pursued it. It was so rare these days.

  "Oh no. That isn't good."

  "No, it really isn't," he said, making his tone adorably grave.

 
"What kind of show is it?"

  "That's a secret," he told me. "It's one of those underground clubs that you hear exist, but you don't think actually do."

  Normally, it wouldn't be up my alley.

  I had always existed directly on the straight-and-narrow. I didn't break laws. I hadn't had a drink until I was officially twenty-one. I didn't speed. I never illegally downloaded music. I certainly never attended an underground club. Seeing as 'underground' also had to mean 'illegal.'

  But, what can I say, sometimes hot guys made us forget ourselves for a short period of time.

  "Oh, sounds intriguing," I said, smiling.

  "Think maybe you'd want to put on something pretty and meet me at this address?" he asked, taking a Post-it note off my desk, and scribbling on it. As he did, I couldn't help but think he was right. He wrote fast.

  "Maybe I can do that," I agreed, taking the note without reading it.

  "You'd break my heart if you don't show," he told me, heading toward the door. "Between nine and nine-thirty," he said in parting.

  And me, well, I went full-on schoolgirl crush.

  I had taken the precious little nest egg I had saved up for maybe eating out one night, or buying a name brand conditioner, and gone down the street to some store named Luxe run by this really confident, outspoken woman named Kenzi who had talked me into the pink even though I insisted on a black dress.

  Then I had gone home, gotten showered, and spent hours getting myself all pretty for the date. After all that fuss, I drove to the address, ignoring the strange swirling in my stomach - the nudge, as my father would call it, that thing that you felt when you thought, somewhere in your subconscious that something wasn't quite right - at seeing the abandoned school building.

  I had been able to convince myself it was safe enough when I saw a group of women not too much older than myself heading in. You could always judge an establishment by the willingness of young, unaccompanied women to attend it.

  But, just in case, I kept my keys in one hand, and my phone in the other.

  Even after I went inside, got checked-in at the door by some guy who called me 'babe' and was all bloodied.

  The shock had been immediate and enough to make me take a few steps back toward the door before Kenny came out of nowhere, greeting me like an old friend, giving me a big hug, kissing my temple, thanking me for coming and giving him some arm candy. He even complimented my dress.