HERO (The Complete Series)

by Bella Love-Wins

“Yes,” she moaned, welcoming his touch, and the heat that rose up in her. She hiked up the stretchy fabric of the pencil skirt she wore, and sat on the side of her desk. Parting her legs, she pulled him in closer, soaking up his body heat as his hands roamed inside her shirt. His slacks tented as she looked down to undo his belt, stirring up her need for more. Right here. Right now. “I’m going to love coming into this office after you make love to me here, honey.”

  “I didn’t plan on this, but now that you mentioned it, I want you so damn bad.”

  She looked up to face him again. “Take me now.”

  “Fuck,” he groaned, sliding his hands up and down the sides of her hips until his fingers were under the hem of her skirt. “Anything you want.”

  He moved the skirt up high enough to catch the lower edge of her panties, and tugged them down her legs. “I hope you’re not afraid of anyone walking in on us.”

  “No one would do that, but go lock it, just in case.”

  He stepped away for a moment, turning the lock on the door handle before returning to her. “There. I want to taste you and drive your gorgeous body insane on that mahogany desk of yours.”

  “God. Yes, Bash,” she moaned.

  He lowered her backwards on the desk, reaching an arm behind her to clear off her documents, keyboard and stationary and make room. “I hope those weren’t in any order,” he told her, chuckling. A stack of papers fell off the edge, with sheets going flying in every direction.

  “I don’t remember anymore,” she hummed, smiling as she kissed his neck. “I want you inside me right now.”

  “After I ravish you with my tongue, sexy.” He looked at her, eyes darkened, and moved down between her legs, parting them with his strong hands to position himself. He gripped her hips and breathed his hot breath over her already hot center, growling when he finally made contact. His tongue slid over her throbbing nub, licking and laving, circling it as wicked pleasure spread through her body in waves.

  “Yes.” Alexandra lifted her head to look at him.

  The top of his head lowered and resurfaced between her legs. His tongue moved up and down her folds, spreading her wider when he dipped inside, feasting on her, sending her desire higher, making her hips rock with urgency.

  “Come inside me, please baby,” she begged, desperate for his thick, steely hardness deep inside her. “Fuck me now.”

  “Fuck. I can taste you all night,” he hummed into her mound. He continued his carnal plunder of her center. He slid two fingers between her folds and deep into her center. “I won’t stop until you come for me like this.” He slid them in and out of her warm, wet channel, curving his fingers until he found that spot that made her body convulse every time.

  Alexandra’s eyes rolled back in her head. She was already nearing her peak, and that move sent her catapulting hard and fast off the edge. Her tingling need grew to a burst of pleasure that had her body shuddering and her hips writhing frantically, meeting his skilled fingers which buried into her over and over.

  “I need you inside me, Bash,” she begged, body weak but still so ready for his massive hardness inside of her. “I need you to fuck me.”

  He moaned, and stood up to finish undoing his belt and zipper. Peeling his pants and boxers down to just below his hips, his thick, throbbing rod sprang free. Without saying more than an incoherent groan, he wrapped Alexandra’s legs around his waist, lifted her hips, and slid his swollen manhood deep inside her soaked center. Alexandra’s breath caught, and she whimpered when he was inside of her, already grinding her hips down as her channel tightened around him.

  He thrust deeper inside of her. And out. And in deeper. Out again. He built up his strokes to where he was buried so far inside of her she could scream each time. Except she couldn’t. Not here at her office. She smiled at the thought for a moment, pressing his hands onto her bra-covered breasts before another powerful jolt sent him to his peak, and that primitive growl he let out drove her mind back outside of her body as they both came.

  “God, you come up with the best ideas, woman,” he moaned into her ear after he caught his breath again a few minutes later. He rested his head on her chest, the two of them completely satiated, for the moment.

  “Wait until I show you the new boardroom down the hall,” she whispered with a weak chuckle.

  “Damn. You’re so fucking sexy,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her back. “I’d pick you up and carry you over there right now, if your employees weren’t still around.”

  “Next time, come down here an hour later. It’s a ghost town around here by seven.”

  “Count on it.”

  The END

  ROCKED – The Complete Series

  Billionaire’s Obsession Series

  A Rock Star Romance

  Parts One to Six – The Complete Series

  A Contemporary, New Adult Romance

  Bella Wild and Bella Love-Wins

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  Rocked Parts One to Six – The Complete Series

  First edition. July to December, 2015

  Copyright © 2015 Bella Wild and Bella Love-Wins.

  Written by Bella Wild and Bella Love-Wins.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  Rocked Part One

  Prologue

  “It’s a TKO!” The announcement boomed over the sound system, and the arena echoed with roars and boos from the audience.

  The crowd went ape-shit. Fans of both fighters were on their feet in the stands, people clambering over one another to keep their eyes fixated on what had happened in the octagon.

  “And Roxy Punisher is down!”

  Somewhere in the nosebleed section, a fight broke out, fan against fan. The chaos forced part of the security team to head up there to break it up.

  Back in the cage, the referee dropped to his knees beside Roxy’s limp body. He paused, his fingers clocking a weak pulse on her neck.

  One second passed…then two…

  The roar of the crowd began to die down. Their excitement quickly turned to horror as Roxy’s coach ripped the door off the cage and ran to her side. Another three seconds passed. He waved frantically to signal someone from the sidelines. A cluster of medical crew and staff entered the fray, armed with a stretcher and paramedic equipment.

  The time wound down. The winner of the match was confirmed with a raise of her arm. It was Jessie Rage. Once Roxy went down, Jessie was escorted out of the cage. Her victory lap was cut short by the group of emergency staff and people from Roxy’s camp swarming around her body. She was unconscious, just lying there on the ground. The crowd was silent as the medics worked to get her seemingly lifeless body onto the stretcher. Roxy Punisher, rising MMA star, was carried away and out of the spotlight. She had unknowingly just had the last fight of her career.

  There was another truth she didn’t yet know—the man in the second row, hidden by a baseball cap, could one day be her savior.

  Chapter 1 - Amanda

  “What a long, shitty day,” I said to no one in particular.

  I sank down onto my favorite spot on the couch. I eased my shoulders back against the cushions, finally allowing myself to relax. I turned on the TV and listened, letting the chatter fill the room. For a moment, I closed my eyes and let my head rest on the back of the sofa. My neck was a mess. I turned left and right, gently stretching out the tension that had been building up over the course of the day.

  The job hadn’t necessarily been difficult, just long. I had been one of fifteen other security guards at a fundraising luncheon for some senator I never heard of before. With this many guards, all I had to think about was my zone. No decision-making, no leading a team, no risk assessment. Today was just about putting my head down, keeping my game face on, and staying in do-my-job mode.

  That was part of the problem. There was no challenge to it. It was like being spoon-fed. Everything had
been planned out by someone else, and all I had to do was show up. To me, it would be more interesting if I could plan the setup. That meant I could assess risks, build a team, and come up with the strategy beforehand. That’s the type of work I was interested in doing.

  I sighed, bored with the same conversation that had been rattling around my mind for months now. I always came to the same conclusion—I should be running my own security company. Without any foreseeable means to start it up, it seemed pointless to even spend the energy running through the pros and cons anymore.

  Not when I’m this tired, I told myself, before shifting my attention back to channel-surfing on the TV. I stopped on one of the sports channels out of habit. I was slightly caught off guard to see myself on screen, dressed in all my sports gear. It took my tired brain a few moments to figure out which match it was, but then it all flooded back. I smiled at the recollection. It was my third nationally-broadcast fight. I had faced off with Justice Rivers, a firecracker from somewhere out West. This competition was instrumental in launching my career as a female MMA contender. Everything snowballed from there until I was accepted as a full-fledged MMA superstar.

  Well…okay…superstar might be my own spin on things. It was more accurate to say I was recognized in the MMA world. The top sports channels would air over a dozen of my fights all across the country. And hey, it was looking like several of my prizefights had finally hit syndication. For a moment, I wondered why my manager hadn’t given me a heads-up that this fight would be on tonight. He was so proud of me, and tended to get swept up in my achievements, big and small. Surely being put in the replay rotation was worth something.

  I sat up straighter and leaned forward, automatically bobbing and weaving from my seat on the couch as I relived the fight.

  “Right hook! Bam!” I punched into the air. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?” I laughed, and flopped back against the cushions as the channel went to a commercial break in between rounds.

  When the show came back, it switched over to another recorded fight. I realized then it was more of a mash-up show, to get the energy going before the prime-time event. Oh well. It was still cool to be featured. I had been wondering if people would just forget about me after my forced retirement.

  That short walk down memory lane had me feeling more recharged. I decided to tackle some long overdue cleaning. I lived alone, in an average-sized Miami apartment complex. My apartment wasn’t that big, but its size had more to do with my preference than anything else. I didn’t have much growing up, and in some ways, the minimalist lifestyle carried over.

  I could now afford to buy just about anything I wanted or needed, within reason of course. I never felt it was important to surround myself with frills that meant nothing to me. Keeping things simple meant I also didn’t need much in terms of square footage. And those were two fundamental facts about me—I preferred simplicity, and I never wanted to find myself needing for anything; or anyone.

  I left the TV on for background noise and crossed the room to enter the kitchen. The apartment had an open concept room layout. From here, I could see the dining area, living room, and down the hallway that led to two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a laundry room-slash-closet. My stomach erupted in a loud grumble once I was in the kitchen. I had to laugh at the timing. Tracking back, it hit me that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I had rushed out of the house at four in the morning. It was an ungodly hour, but this was the time they scheduled for all of us to get to the security team briefing. We met up at the downtown hotel where the banquet was planned. After the briefing, we had done a sweep of the place, and then the event started. I ended up working over twelve hours before finally being able to come home and crash.

  I did not expect the gig to last as long as it had. The man they put in charge of the security team was a major stickler. He probably could have cut an hour off his prep speech in the morning just by taking out all the times he said, “Now pay attention, this is important”. He made us comb every inch of the hotel prior to anyone arriving, and then we each were assigned a zone in the large banquet hall. We were tasked with babysitting our own batch of politicians, and kept watch as the lobbyists and billionaires who bankrolled them hovered around kissing ass. An open bar and endless outpouring of food at the buffet had dragged out the luncheon. I had to wonder if this day was a wake-up call from the universe.

  As a reward for surviving, I let myself cheat a little. I ordered a pizza to be delivered. In the year and a half since retiring from the MMA world, I had kept up with my athletic mindset and behaviors. It included clearing my head, sticking to my workouts and eating lean, as if still in training mode. Occasionally, I let it slide and indulged in some of the foods I had craved back then. And tonight, that meant a gooey, cheesy carb-fest.

  While waiting for the pizza, I finished neatening up the kitchen and washed some dishes. My arms were up to the elbow in soap suds when I heard my name. Well, not my real name. My stage name and alter ego extraordinaire—Roxy Punisher.

  “Roxy was certainly one of the greats!” The commentator on the right said when I turned to look over at the TV. “In fact, I don’t think anyone would deny that she paved the way for other women in the sport, and helped to elevate the visibility of the sport to what it is today. She had talent, discipline and charisma. That’s how she was able to help make female MMA wrestling more mainstream. It’s all that aggression and passion she brought to each match.”

  The one on the left chimed in. “I agree, Tommy. To have her career cut so short, that was a real tragedy. You know, we should get Roxy down here one of these days. She could help us size up this new crop of female fighters.”

  I laughed and said to the TV, “Make me an offer, boys! I’m just standing here doing dishes.”

  I had no idea what going rates were for a guest appearance or commentator job, but at this point, I’d take anything. It would all add up eventually, and help me save to start my own private security company. Plus, it would probably be a heck of a lot of fun. I could trash-talk, name names, dish out some dirt, and get paid for it! It would probably never happen, but might be worthwhile to have my agent make some calls. He could fish around to see if any real job offers were out there.

  The doorbell rang, so I abandoned the sink full of half-washed dishes. Smelling the pizza was enough to have my stomach twisting and burning with hunger pains. I paid, thanked the delivery guy, took the box with me back to my spot on the couch, and went to town. I wolfed down three slices before getting up to grab my tablet off the dining room table. In between bites, I started crafting an email to my agent to check into some side jobs for me. My schedule was already packed with gigs from the security firm I worked for. Still, if I could do a couple of sports shows, and make a few appearances here and there, it would help.

  Until tonight, I hadn’t realized there might be a demand for me anymore. Right after I was forced to retire, everyone wanted to talk to me, to rehash the fight that had ended it all. They wanted me to come on their talk shows or have a spot in their magazines. I was the idiot who had turned it all down. At the time, I couldn’t deal with it. I was humiliated, and with my fighting career over, it felt like my world was over. I wanted to be left in my own cocoon and not face the world. Eventually my agent gave up on trying to secure any appearances or new work for me. As time passed, my budding fame had dwindled down. I assumed it was because I was officially a “has-been.”

  I pressed my temples as these less glamorous memories filled my mind. It replayed like a movie infused with strobe-light effects. There were flashes of entering the ring with Jessie Rage that night, the swing of her last punch, waking up in the hospital, hearing the diagnosis, and the worried faces hovering over my hospital bed, full of pity.

  “Geez. Let it go, Baker!” I scolded myself, shoving the thoughts from my mind.

  I didn’t have time or energy to think about it right now. I hit send on the email. Still a little sentimental, I flicked across the screen to open my fan
page. One thing that remained consistent, through all the ups and downs of my career, was my loyal fan base. After all the time that had passed since I had fought, it was shocking to me how many people still knew my story. And they continued to follow me on social media.

  A couple days before, I was in one of those ‘poor-Amanda-the-victim, why-can’t-I-get-my-shit-together’ kind of moods. I had posted about wanting to start my own private security company. A few of the die-hard fans had left comments like “that’s right up your alley”, “good luck” or “cheering for you, Roxy”.

  A new reply flashed on the screen tonight. When I clicked on it, I instantly broke out with a smile at the name attached to the post. It was stonefaceviper79. He—at least, I had always assumed it was a ‘he’—had been consistent in replying to messages and communicating with me for several years now. He was a super-fan when I had been an active fighter. Unlike many other fans, he would only communicate online. He had never made himself known at any of my live events or appearances. And now, from time to time, he still made an effort to keep in touch. This was his reply to my post about starting my own business.

  “I can see that happening for you. Any day now, you’ll see. Keep your chin tucked, Roxy. You got this fight.”

  I hoped so, because I was tired of watching over politicians with overinflated egos. I could end up putting one of them into a sleeper-hold submission on a banquet room floor one day, if I wasn’t careful.

  Chapter 2 - Johnny

  “Johnny, what the fuck?” My manager, Kevin shouted out. He was also my adopted mother’s husband, and hell, the man could be annoying.

  “Good morning to you too,” I growled from my bed, the covers hiding half of my face.