by Ruby Ryan
The bell rang, and then the two fighters began circling around the ring, keeping their distance. I could feel the redhead sizing up the larger man, deciding how to fight him. The size difference was so great that I felt a tightness in my chest at the thought of the redhead losing, getting punched in his sharp face and left bleeding on the floor.
The crowd cheered, and then the bald fighter stalked forward.
He went straight at the redhead and made a wide swing with his right hand, which the redhead leaned away from easily, sliding sideways away from baldy's follow-up punch with his left. Rage flashed across baldy's face, and then he lurched forward again, this time swinging a vicious uppercut that surely would have shattered the smaller man's jaw had he not jumped out of the way. The redhead jabbed with his right fist, catching him in the ribs underneath his right arm, and then he darted back before baldy could swing a meaty fist through the air.
A few people in the crowd boo'd, and one man shouted, "Fuck him up, Brian!" I got the impression the baldy was a favorite around here.
The redhead took it in stride, flashing a middle finger behind him which drew louder curses from the crowd, but only made him smile.
"Ohh, I bet he'd be a great dancer," Jason said. "I'd love to take him to the club."
"Now you're just trying to make me jealous!" Jon playfully punched his boyfriend in the shoulder.
But I couldn't take my eyes off the redhead. He glided around the ring like he was on roller skates, effortless in the fight. I knew absolutely nothing about boxing, but he seemed to be biding his time while the bigger man wore himself down. Twice baldy landed a glancing blow on his body, which made me wince and want to cry out for him to be careful, but neither did any real damage that I could see.
And then I found myself walking away from the table, moving through the crowd to get closer to the ring. I didn't stop until I was ringside, which meant shoving a few guys out of the way, but they didn't try to stop me when they saw I was a woman instead of one of the other douchebags in the crowd. From there I could see every inch of the redhead's skin, his muscles glistening with sweat and his auburn hair matted to his head. Freckles covered his arms and shoulders like little brown constellations, and he wore a lazy, almost bored look in his eyes as he circled the larger man.
Baldy passed in front of me, and the redhead's gaze swept across my section of the ring. And then his eyes darted back, locking onto mine with intensity.
He winked at me, sending a flock of birds to the air inside my stomach, and the tiniest hint of a smile broke through his mask.
The bald man charged forward, swinging his thick arm in a wicked horizontal arc through the air, but the redhead was ready. He'd been waiting. He leaped to the side from the bull rush and then jabbed two quick punches at the side of baldy's head. The large man twisted and swung blind, missing the redhead's ducking body by a full foot. The motion sent him off balance and the redhead pounced in a flurry of jabs. Three to his ribs, then two to his gut and face. Sweat spun through the air as he caught baldy in the jaw and knocked his head around, and then he was falling, and even before he hit the ground the redhead struck him three more times in the ribs.
The crowd screamed in shock and disappointment and bloodlust.
The referee called an end to the fight, and the redhead nodded like it was no big deal. He strode around the outside of the ring with both middle fingers extended, bobbing his head in a patronizing mockery of the crowd. The air was a spray of beer and mixed drinks as they bombarded him with boos and a chorus of jeers.
He passed by me, and his smile returned for a moment, and then he was back to taunting the crowd.
I realized I'd been holding my breath. My chest shuddered as I filled my lungs, smelling the sweat and blood and beer that was thick in the air.
"Come on then." The redhead helped his opponent to his feet and wrapped a friendly arm around him. "I'll buy you a drink, mate."
Oh God, he was Irish too. As if he wasn't sexy enough.
The crowded parted as he led his huge opponent to the bar.
2
HARRIET
The redheaded fighter sat at the bar with his opponent, both of them now laughing like they were long-time friends and had not just beaten the snot out of each other.
I couldn't take my eyes off him.
It didn't make any sense. He was blustery and loud, the opposite of what I liked. And I really had no interest in boxing, or fighting, or any other macho "my dick's bigger than yours" sport. Yet this feeling had taken hold inside my chest and refused to let go.
"You look like the little girl whose mom said she could lick the bowl of cake batter," Jason said.
"Uh huh," I mumbled, taking another sip of wine to hide my silly smile.
"I have a confession: I wasn't feeling bad," Jon said. "I only said that because I thought Harriet wasn't having a good time."
"Oh honey, you're so sweet," Jason said, putting a hand on his bicep. "But I think we're the ones who are gunna have to peel her away from this place."
I was barely listening. A tall frat boy had strode up to the redhead and poked him in the back like he wanted to fight. It looked tense for a few moments, but now he had the frat boy laughing and slapping him on the back like they'd just found out they were related. He had an aura about him.
"Why don't you go introduce yourself?"
I finally peeled my eyes away and turned back to the table. "That's what I've been trying to work up the courage to do."
"He's been sitting there for 10 minutes," Jon said.
"I know! That's how bad I am at this!"
"It's easy. Just compliment him on the fight. Or his muscles. Guys love compliments."
"Especially from a pretty girl," Jason added.
"He's nice to look at, but probably not my type," I said.
"Not your type?" Jason's mouth hung open. "Honey, that boy is everyone's type. He's type O-positive. Nobody's gunna reject that shit."
"I think O-negative is the universal donor," Jon chimed in, but Jason waved him away.
"You know what I'm saying. So what's stopping you, Harriet?"
There was one voice in my head stopping me: I wasn't pretty enough for a guy like that. The voice in the back of my head screamed it again and again to make sure I didn't forget. Most of the girls in here wore tight cocktail dresses that were practically painted on their bodies, showing every curve and inch of cleavage. I'd spent exactly 15 seconds in the mirror pinning back my own red hair before throwing on the same cotton blouse I'd worn two days in a row because I didn't think anyone would notice.
And that's what really stopped me from going over to say hi: I had no chance with him. He wasn't just out of me league: he was playing a completely different sport with rules I didn't even understand. I'd had boyfriends in my five years at MIT, but they were always like me: goofy, nerdy, too shy to take charge or ask for what they wanted. It's who I was, and who I was meant to be with.
"I'm not looking for anything tonight," I said instead. "Just some drinks to relax."
"What you're looking for may be different than what you're looking at. Because you were looking at him the way the coyote looks at the roadrunner."
"Like he was a human-sized porkchop and you're a junkyard dog," Jason added.
"Like he's a glass of ice water and you're thirsty."
"Okay, okay, I get it," I said to stop their banter.
Jason looked past me. "Well you missed your chance, because the clover-tailed hunk is gone."
I looked over my shoulder and felt a pang of regret to see that his bar stool was empty, along with the bald fighter's. Now that the chance was gone, I felt the deep loss of a missed opportunity. I should have gone up to him. It couldn't have hurt to say hi. Maybe I was his type, whatever that was. Nerdy, I guess.
But it was too late now. I drank the rest of my wine in one gulp and said, "Oh well. Plenty of fish, right?"
I must not have been very convincing, because they both gave me sympathetic smiles.
"I'm ready," I said, but as I turned around I practically ran into him.
Him. The redheaded fighter. He'd put his T-shirt back on, but it didn't do much to conceal the lithe muscles underneath. Up close I saw his cheek was bruised, but as he smiled that only made him more gorgeous.
"Well then?" he said in that thick Irish accent that made my knees weak.
"Well then what?" I managed to say.
"Well then when were ya gunna let me buy ya a drink? Ya've been ogling me all night I ought to charge your eyes rent." He blinked. "Though they're so gorgeous I'd give ya a discount."
All of it--the accent, the cheesy line, and the way he stood just a little too close to me to let me smell his sweat-and-musk scent--was enough that I practically fell to the ground and wrapped my arms around his leg to keep him from ever leaving, like a petulant child.
Now he was staring at me, his gaze cool and calm. Waiting for a response. I hadn't said anything back; I was just gawking at him like a tourist at the zoo.
Say something, Harriet! What's wrong with you?
But that part of my brain was broken, and all I could do was lick my lips and stand paralyzed inside my own body.
"She'd love a drink," Jason jumped in. "She's drinking cab sauv."
"But I'll take anything you give me!" I blurted out. I immediately felt like an idiot, hearing the subtext behind the statement, and the truth of the subtext, and I felt my cheeks burning.
"Wine it is," the redhead said with a nod. As he walked away I stared at his chiseled ass rolling in his fighting shorts.
"Mmm hmm," Jason said, admiring the same view. Jon cleared his throat and jabbed his boyfriend in the ribs.
"I don't think he's your type, honey."
"What?" Jason said. "Even if the puppy's not for sale, I can admire in through the window!"
"I'm stupid," I said, beginning to panic. "That was a stupid thing to say. Right?"
"Calm down sweetie," Jason said. "Cheesy pickup lines are standard in these places. He probably thought it was cute."
"But I don't want to seem too forward..."
Jon put a hand on my arm. "You're overthinking it. Like you always do."
He was right. All he'd offered was to buy me a drink. Take it one step at a time, Harriet.
"Do you want us to stick around?" Jason asked. "Make sure he's not a creep?"
I waved them off. "I'm totally fine. Aside from being nervous. You two can go."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. I'll take an Uber home."
3
HARRIET
I did take an Uber home... but not to my home.
We made out in the back seat along the way, his warm lips pressed tight against mine, devouring me while his arms held me close. I let my hands move along his biceps, then his shoulders, and he felt so amazing, so unreal like a statue chiseled from marble, that I didn't even care that I wasn't wearing my seatbelt.
Just when I thought he was going to pull my clothes off and fuck me there in the backseat, we reached his place.
"This way, love."
He led me by the hand into an old brownstone style building that had been segmented off into apartments. His was on the third floor, and he turned the knob without using a key.
"You don't lock it?"
He gave me a sly smile. "My roommate and I are fighters. I hope someone tries."
It was a silly thing to say, and normally a dozen arguments would have come to mind, but right then it only turned me on even more.
He pulled me through the dark kitchen and into a doorway against the far wall. The queen-sized bed took up almost half of the room, with a bedside table and lamp and a closet to the right. But it was clean, cleaner than I'd expect from a man like him, and the bed was even made.
He closed the door softly, then paused to admire my body.
I felt his gaze move down my face, along my ample chest and then to my jeans. Slowly he took in my legs, then back up, lingering at my navel and breasts before locking eyes.
And for once, instead of feeling self conscious about my body, I felt confident. I could feel the desire in those bloodshot eyes of his.
All of my worries melted away. Writing my thesis, and then presenting it, and then applying for my doctorate if everything else went well. Suddenly they had been yanked out of my brain, and the relief from it was a wonderful vacuum into which I wanted this gorgeous man's body to fill.
I wanted this. I needed this. And I hadn't realized it until tonight.
"God, you're beautiful," he said, taking a slow step forward in the semi-darkness. His hands touched my hips, feeling rather than grabbing. As they moved up my side I could feel the boxer's tape still there, so I took his right hand in both of mine and lifted it to my lips, gently kissing the knuckles before finding the end of the tape. I kissed along his wrist and arm while peeling the tape from his knuckles, extending his arm so I could press my lips against his bicep, which bulged and flexed as I touched it and sent a flutter up my loins.
While I did that, he leaned in and kissed the side of my neck. He was more gentle than I would have expected as he moved down to my shoulder, nuzzling against my collarbone, and I sighed into his hair.
The last bit of tape finally came away, and I let it fall to the ground.
And then his kisses grew more hungry, and his arm wrapped around my body tightened. He let out a desperate sigh as he spun me around, and then wrapped both arms around my body to pull me close against his. I gasped as one hand moved over my blouse to cup my breast, appreciating its weight while his lips kissed the back of my neck. And against my will I pressed my ass against his crotch, rubbing it against him seductively, beginning to fantasize about what would come next.
His hand that still bore tape slid down my belly, forcing its way into my jeans. Then it shot back out, and he unbuttoned the button frantically and pulled down the zipper, and I sighed as it returned to my crotch and into my panties and found my special place.
"Ohh," I moaned as he rubbed my clitoris with two fingers, the tape on his hand scratching through my fluff of pubic hair. I pushed my ass back against him harder, letting him know that it was good, so good, oh my God was it good, and I felt his hot breath on my neck as he petted me.
He ran his other hand through my hair, finding the two hair ties and tossing them to the ground. As my red curls fell around my shoulders he pressed his face into them, inhaling me deeply in a way I'd never felt. "God, I love how you smell," he drawled in that accent, which once again made my knees so weak I might have collapsed if not for his arm around me.
"You too," I sighed. "I love how you feel."
I felt him smile against the back of my neck as he rubbed my clit faster. Then he moved his hands deeper until his finger was sliding up against the wet lips of my sex, letting the palm of his hand rub against my clit, the friction of the boxing tape giving me a new and exciting sensation. Then his finger curled up and in, pushing inside my pussy, making me inhale sharply at the sudden intense feeling.
"You like that?" he said into my hair.
I tried to answer, but all I could do was close my eyes and moan.
His finger pushed to the second knuckle then moved in a circle, widening my walls and hitting every nerve, all the while rubbing his palm against my special place. He finger-fucked me for what felt like an eternity, a wonderful eternity with my back pressed against his broad chest, until he finally slowed, and stopped.
"I want you," he whispered in my ear, and I bobbed my head yes because I didn't trust my voice to speak.
I expected him to take me like that, but instead he spun me around and kissed me roughly on the lips, pushing me backwards until I fell onto the bed, bouncing up and down on the sheets. I had a perfect view of him pulling his shirt over his head, all the muscles in his core practically popping out in the contrast of the dim light.
Then he was looking down at me like some Greek god, and I lay on my back and held my breath, waiting for what he would do next.
He removed the boxing tape from his other hand, slow rotations that drew the moment out. Then he pulled my jeans off, taking the panties with them, while I lifted my ass off the bed to let them slide off. While he did that I removed my blouse and bra, revealing my heavy breasts. He admired my nude body, taking me all in, and for once I wasn't self conscious. I could see how desperately he wanted me, and in that perfect moment I wanted him just as bad.
"Oh, you have the most captivating curves," he said, and his words washed over me like tingling waves.
He bent over to slide his shorts off, revealing his bulging cock. It pointed like a sword in the darkness, full of heat and potential.
He climbed on top of me slowly, never breaking eye contact. The chill of the room disappeared as his hot body covered me like a blanket of muscles, his thighs rubbing against my thighs and his chest against my chest. He pressed his pecs into my breasts, feeling them with his own chest, and his face stopped when it was mere inches from my own.
A lusty smile spread across his face, and damned if I couldn't stop myself from kissing him.
He responded quickly, shoving his tongue in my mouth and letting it dance with mine. I spread my legs wider, practically begging him to continue, because I could feel his throbbing cock pressing against my pubic hair and belly, and I wanted it inside of me, filling me, warming me until I moaned and trembled. And then just when I couldn't take it anymore, when I was close to breaking our kiss to beg him to do it, he pulled back with his hips and allowed his member to slide down, the head brushing past my clit until it slid down to my lips. He took a moment to rub it up and down, coating the head with my juices, and then pushed forward.
"Ohh," I moaned into his kiss. He was so big! I hadn't had sex since breaking up with my boyfriend four months ago, and it felt like he wouldn't fit. That he was too big, and I was too tight. But he moved slowly, a few millimeters at a time, and that familiar ache turned into the familiar ecstasy as he jabbed me deeper and deeper, until he was halfway inside, then three quarters, then pushing the last bit as if he couldn't control himself, breaking away from my kiss to gasp, eyes widening in his own pleasure.