BULL: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  It had happened before. It happened to guys like me. In a sport as brutal and fast-paced and violent as MMA, it would keep on happening.

  That was what we wanted. The rush of bodies breaking bodies, of the possibility of defeat, or victory, or serious injury. It was all there and it was right.

  It was what I lived for.

  And then the promoter came in, and my manager came in, my trainer, some media guys. I didn’t like the locker room as much when I wasn’t alone, but it was part of the gig. I answered questions, I talked strategy, but mostly I worked on keeping my mind right.

  And then there was the roar of the crowd as the announcer said my name. I walked through the tunnel, heart beating slow, slow, and my whole body loose and calm, radiating a deadly calm. I had learned how to control my emotions and how to enter into an empty, mindless fighting state at my whim. Skad had taught me that and much, much more, stuff nobody knew that I could do.

  It’d been a long time since I was out in front of people, but for some reason my usual pre-match jitters weren’t there. I couldn’t even remember the name of the girl I had been thinking about over and over ever since I’d gotten back to America.

  There was only the ring and my opponent, an intense focus I hadn’t felt since the Thai jungles. Hours of training in incredible heat and humidity had hardened me to distractions.

  Once in the ring, I stripped down to my shorts, my hands wrapped and ready. People spoke words, but I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t see them. I could only see my opponent. Time ceased to flow, and I felt nothing but my heart beating softly.

  Then we were faced off, circling each other. Somehow the round had started. His hands flashed out and I blocked them.

  I dance back, testing his speed with a few jabs.

  He swatted them. He was angry, a snarling bull. He wanted to make a move, to see what I was made of.

  I floated back. The crowd was screaming, but I couldn’t hear them.

  He feinted. I didn’t fall for it.

  Then he made his move. He juked forward, trying to grapple me, but my feet snapped out quicker than he could have realized.

  I caught him right in the face.

  Blood splashed from his nose.

  It was all fury and excitement as I lunged.

  He stumbled back, shocked, in pain, his eyes wide. He thought he was fast.

  But I was faster.

  My fists found him then. Pummeling him.

  I wanted to break him. Kill him if I had to. I was ready to smash his skull into pieces.

  Fury and intensity rolled through me as my fists snapped out, again and again, pounding and destroying. I forgot that the thing I was beating was a human, an actual person. He was just a bag of meat to me then, an enemy that needed to be destroyed.

  And then the ref was there, pulling me back. I realized that my opponent was down on the ground and the bell was ringing.

  The night came rushing back in a cacophony of sound and emotion.

  People were pressed in on all sides in the locker room. It was packed, promoters everywhere, everyone congratulating me.

  “Fuck, man,” Ronnie said. “When did you learn to move that fast?”

  “Thailand,” I grunted at him, grinning.

  He laughed. “That shit was crazy! You made that kid look like a fool!”

  I basked in my victory, in the crowd, but my eyes kept scanning for her. For Alexa.

  I’d come back to myself as soon as I had won the match. It was always a shit show after a knockout, especially a fast and brutal knockout like that. People were screaming and cheering. I scanned the crowd, trying to find her, but people kept getting in my face, congratulating me, wanting something from me. I had nothing to give them.

  But I was elated. Nothing felt better than a victory, especially a victory you needed so desperately. And I needed to show everyone what I was still made of. That I was still a threat.

  “Hey,” Ronnie said. “Isn’t that your stepsister?”

  And then I spotted her, standing across the room, looking lost and shy. She was wearing a low-cut dress, all tight and fucking sexy, making her tits look incredible. She looked out of places standing among the fighting crowd, almost as if she was pure and everyone else was tainted. I quickly walked through the crowd, elbowing my way toward her.

  Her whole face lit up as soon as she saw me. I felt something right then, something that was almost as good as the fight itself.

  “Hey, sis,” I grunted.

  “Hey, yourself. Congrats on your win.”

  “Thanks.”

  She stood close to me, and I could sense exactly what I expected. Behind her smile, there was a tinge of fear. Subtle, but it was definitely there. She was uncomfortable, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the crowd or because she had just watched me beat a man to a pulp.

  I had known she would respond that way. I had known it would scare her to see me fight like that, to see me really let loose and try to destroy another person. She wasn’t used to it; it wasn’t a part of her life like it was a part of mine.

  “What did you think?” I asked her.

  “It was . . . exciting.”

  “Liar,” I grunted, standing close.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “I can see right through you.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “The truth.”

  She sighed. “Fine. Okay. It was intense. It was easy when I didn’t know the guys fighting, but watching you like that was a totally different thing.”

  “And now you’re a little scared of me,” I said, smirking at her.

  “No, I’m not scared.”

  “You should be, sis.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now you know what I’m capable of.”

  “Yeah. That’s true. But there’s something else, too.”

  “What?”

  She looked embarrassed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was also a little . . . you know.”

  I grinned and felt my cock stir as I looked at her. She was clearly uncomfortable, and I knew exactly what she was going to say. I could see it in the way her chest rose and fell quickly, her breath coming in deep and fast. I could see it in the dress she was wearing, the dress that screamed sex, and the way her eyes lingered on my body. I knew what she wanted.

  “It turned you on,” I whispered in her ear. “You thought to yourself, if I could fight like that, imagine how I could fuck.”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “And now you can’t decide if you want to run away or if you want to go all in.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll tell you this: I fuck better than I fight. You only got a little taste of what I could do to that dripping pussy of yours.”

  “I’m not dripping.”

  “Don’t lie to me again. I know if I reached under that dress, I’d find you soaked through your panties.”

  “Cole,” she said, pushing me away. “Look, I just wanted to say that you can come back, okay?”

  She was blushing like crazy, and I could practically smell the desire rolling off her in waves. My heartrate was up and my cock was hard, so hard that I was worried someone might notice.

  “Come on,” I grunted at her. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  She blinked at me and then nodded. “Okay.”

  I grabbed her by the hand, nodded at Ronnie, and then led her out of the locker room and down a series of hallways. The venue was old and full of a bunch of different dressing rooms. It had been built for something else back in the day, something like plays or live theater or some shit like that. The dressing rooms were like honeycombs. I chose one at random, ducking inside.

  I flipped on the light. There was a couch against one wall and a vanity on the other. Old costumes hung on hangers from a rack, and posters advertising movies older than the both of us combined were framed and hung on the walls.

  I grabbed her hips and pressed my body against hers, k
icking the door shut behind us.

  She knew what I wanted. She could feel my dick pressed against her core. But she didn’t move, didn’t say a word, as I slowly slid my hands up her legs and grabbed her ass, pushing her dress over her hips. She gasped as soon as my palms pressed against her panties.

  “Sure you want to be alone with me?” I asked.

  “No, not at all,” she whispered.

  I kissed her, deep and hard. She kissed me back, and I knew she was lying.

  I knew she wanted to be alone with me more than anything else.

  9

  Alexa

  He was right. He always seemed to be right when it came to what I was thinking.

  The truth was, watching him destroy that guy in the ring had been terrifying. I’d kept thinking, I know that guy, that’s my stepbrother, that’s my husband. It had felt like I was watching someone else and I had to remind myself of who he was.

  As his fists pummeled and his feet moved, I had wondered if I ever really knew him at all.

  But then the fight was over and that crowd was cheering again, and I felt that same thrill that I had felt the other night. I knew that no matter what, I was drawn to him, and I couldn’t deny it. I was drawn to him inexplicably, like a planet pulled toward a star. I just had to be careful that it didn’t swallow me up.

  But of course, whenever I got around him I completely lost myself. I only wanted more and more, and I didn’t think about the consequences. I couldn’t help myself, not when he touched me, and especially not when he kissed me.

  Which was why, when he pressed his lips against mine in that empty dressing room, I knew that I was going to let him slide his hand down under my dress and feel how soaking wet I was.

  “I knew this was what you wanted,” he whispered in my ear.

  We stood in the middle of the room, his lips against my ear, his hand between my legs. Shivers ran races down my spine as wave after wave of cascading pleasure crawled through me.

  I’d already told him I wanted him to stay, but I hadn’t been completely honest with him. I didn’t tell him why I wanted him to stay: because I couldn’t stop thinking about those nights, a year ago, when he made me feel so much.

  I gasped as his fingers deftly flicked under my panties and found my clit. I bit down on his shoulder as he began to move in furious circles.

  “Easy there,” he grunted. “There’s a lot more to come, girl.”

  “Shit. Sorry.” He laughed and kissed my neck, rubbing my pussy.

  “I get it. You’re starving.”

  “No,” I gasped. “Not at all.”

  “Liar. When are you going to figure it out?”

  “Figure out what?”

  His fingers stopped and his hand pulled away from me. I let out a small noise but stifled it, stopping myself from begging him not to move.

  “I know exactly what you want.”

  He kissed me again, our lips pressed together, his tongue and taste entering my mouth, sending my head into dizzying circles.

  His hands were on me again, running up my legs, cupping my ass, pressing my breasts together, touching every inch of exposed skin. I couldn’t help but throw myself into it, kissing him back with abandon. I needed his hand back on my clit, back on my spot, sending me into ecstasy.

  And then his strong arms wrapped around me and lifted me off my feet.

  “Hey!” I squealed. It wasn’t very ladylike.

  He laughed and carried me over to the couch, pushing me down into the cushions. He crushed me with his body.

  “Asshole. Don’t pick me up.”

  “I’ll do what I want,” he whispered in my ear as he kissed my neck.

  “No you will—” I began to say, and stopped as his fingers found my pussy again, my dress slid up along my hips.

  “Fuck,” I gasped instead.

  “I know you like that,” he said. “I know you can’t help yourself when I work this little clit.”

  “Cole,” I moaned.

  “I wonder,” he said, moving back and sliding my panties down my legs, “which Cole you’re talking about. Your husband or your stepbrother?”

  “Neither,” I gasped as he spread my legs apart.

  “I think both.”

  His face dropped from view as his tongue and mouth found my pussy.

  I couldn’t argue. I couldn’t say a word, or even think, as his tongue licked my pussy with the perfect amount of pressure. His fingers began to slide inside me, moving slowly in and out as his tongue sucked and licked my clit.

  “Holy shit,” I gasped.

  “You taste amazing,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about this for a year.”

  “That feels incredible,” I gasped as I grabbed his hair. I felt like I might tear it from his scalp, but he just kept working me.

  His strong hands spread my legs even wider, working my pussy, sucking my clit, lapping up every inch of me. It was incredible, pure fire, as he did his work.

  It was just like I remembered. There was nothing else but his mouth and his body working my clit, my whole body tense as waves of pleasure overtook me.

  I couldn’t believe I was letting him lick my clit and fuck my pussy with his fingers in some random dressing room after I had watched him beat a man in a fight, but I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to. He was a force, a wave washing down over me, rolling through my body and taking me way beyond myself.

  “This fucking cunt,” he said, kissing my clit, “is perfect.”

  “Don’t stop,” I moaned. I couldn’t help myself. I’d beg him to do whatever he wanted so long as he kept making me feel so incredibly good.

  He reached up and took my hair in his fist. “You want this, don’t you?” he whispered in my ear, pulling me down toward him.

  “Yes, please,” I groaned.

  “You want me to eat this pussy until you come.”

  “I do. I need it.”

  “I know you do. You need me to get you off.”

  “Please make me come.”

  “I love when you fucking beg, Alex.”

  He let my hair go and returned to licking and sucking, working my pussy, but this time wilder. He wasn’t holding back anymore, and I knew it. I pressed his face hard against my clit as I worked my hips, his tongue and fingers fucking me.

  I was completely lost in it. I was completely overwhelmed by his strong hands and jaw and eyes and teeth and tongue, his everything as he worked me. Even more, in this moment, I knew I was his. I would do anything for him because I needed it. He could lift me up and throw me across the room if he wanted, or he could stop and leave me begging for more. I was totally under his control, and that was what made me so fucking excited.

  “You want to come for me, don’t you?” he asked, his fingers stroking in and out of my pussy.

  I grabbed my tits, arching my back. “Yes, fuck, please.”

  “You want to come on my mouth?”

  “Oh god yes.”

  His fingers moved agonizingly slowly in and out, and I wanted to scream for him.

  “I want to hear you ask.”

  “Please make me come,” I moaned.

  Without another word he returned to my pussy, his tongue and fingers working in rhythm with my hips.

  I knew what he wanted, and I wanted it too. We moved together, his tongue rolling laps along my clit, my hands woven through his hair, pressing his mouth harder against my pussy, and I felt it.

  Right there, the orgasm began to build, a single spot deep in my pussy that began to totally overtake me.

  “Oh fuck, Cole,” I moaned. He worked furiously, his strong hands controlling my hips as I moved and writhed, gripping his hair. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

  I felt it then burst through me. My back arched, my muscles tensed, and I let out a loud moan as I began to shake slightly. The orgasm swept through me, pure and powerful and incredible, taking away anything that wasn’t joy and more joy.

  And then I began to slowly come down. He sensed that and s
lowed his face and fingers to match me. Finally, I released his hair, laying back.

  He stopped and grinned at me. “I love that fucking noise,” he said.

  “What noise?”

  “When you come.” He leaned back and sat down at the other end of the couch, his eyes never leaving me. I watched as he pulled his shorts off, revealing his thick, hard cock.

  I stared at it and he stared back, holding the base.

  “Look how fucking hard you get me,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry,” I replied, smiling. “Must be tough.”

  “Come here.”

  I moved forward and got on top of him, my hand wrapping around his tip and slowly rolling down along his shaft. He grunted as I kissed him, slowly working his length. I had no clue how he fit into those small shorts he wore to fight in, because his cock was thick and heavy, dwarfing my hand.

  I leaned back and pulled the top of my dress down, revealing my breasts. I smiled as he hungrily grabbed them, gently working my nipples as I continued working his cock.

  “Your fucking body is perfect,” he said.

  “Do you like this?” I asked.

  “Wrap those lips around my cock,” he said, “and I’ll love it.”

  I smiled and blushed but did what he said. I moved back, my ass up in the air, as I licked the length of him, root to tip. I tasted salt and musk and loved it as his pre-cum slipped into my mouth. I sucked him hard, rolling my tongue around his tip, taking his salty taste and skin and needing it.

  “Fuck, Alexa,” he grunted. “You suck cock like you were born to do it.”

  I continued to work him, my mouth taking as much of him as I could. I loved the way he grunted his pleasure, groaned and moaned. I wanted to make him feel even half as good as he made me feel, wanted him to feel the pleasure he gave me. I sucked him as hard as I could, working his cock.

  I pulled him out of my mouth, taking a handful of saliva and jerking him off. I smiled at him, looking him in the eye as I jerked him.

  “Do you like to watch me suck your cock?” I asked, blushing.