by JJ Knight
When her knees buckle, I step on the jeans to get them all the way off and tilt her sideways, lifting her up at the knees. She hangs on to my neck. I’m tempted to take her right there, on the sofa, daring Delores to come home and find us. But I don’t, instead carrying her down the hall to that messy bedroom.
The bed is still unmade. I let her shoulders rest on the bed, but the rest of her is mine. I grasp her thighs, high in the air, and split them wide. I dive in, lapping at her, holding her tight against me.
She writhes beneath me, her body tensing and releasing as I work her over. When I feel her getting close, that tension ready to snap, I let go and she crashes back to the bed.
“God, Parker. Please.” She sits up, and this time, she’s the one refusing to let things slow down. My belt jingles as she yanks it open.
But I’m not through with her. I let her get the pants down then grab her by the waist and flip her over. When she lands on her belly, I grasp her hips and pull her up to her hands and knees.
Everything’s right in front of me, pink and soft and wet. This time when my face lands there, she almost screams. She snatches a pillow and buries her face in it. Again, I bring her to a peak, but just when she’s going to topple over, I withdraw, slowing my fingers to a gentle brush against her skin.
She tries to turn around, but I hold her as I reach down for the condom. I can pin two-hundred-pound men, so she’s got no way to stop me from what I want. She bucks backward, trying to take advantage of the moment when I have to slide it on, but she’s too slow. I grab her hips, and before she can maneuver into a new position, I’m in her, pounding, holding her hair.
Maddie cries out into the pillow again. She’s working with me now, her body rocking with our rhythm. Her breasts swing beneath her and I reach for them, squeezing, slowing the pace, letting her catch her breath.
This time when she turns, I don’t stop her. I think she’ll lie down, but she doesn’t, crawling over to where I’m kneeling on the bed.
She climbs up my body, her eyes locked on mine. Her arms go around my neck, and she wraps her legs around my waist. She lifts herself high, and then I’m the one being forced as she sinks down onto me. I hang on to her ass, working with her, supporting her weight so she won’t tire out.
It’s getting to me, and I’m having to lock down my control as she eases up and down. I back away from the bed and stand in the middle of the room. Now I’m the one setting the pace, lifting her up and down, away from my body then thrusting her back in place.
She wants to grind against me, hard and tight, so I let her, feeling the pleasure ripple through her body. Her arms start to shake, so I drop her back to the bed.
She’s quivering with need. But I am so not done.
“I’m going to make you pay for this morning,” I tell her.
Her eyes go wide as I grab my jeans and pull the belt from the loops. Her breath speeds up, her chest rising up and down. She loves this. I know her.
I grab her wrists and encircle them with the belt. With a sharp tug, she’s locked in tight and I drag her across the bed to the headboard and buckle her to the post.
Her breathing is ragged, her body flushed red on her breasts and thighs. I tease her, one finger tracing the curve of her waist, her thigh, her knee. She’s trembling.
I let my thumb rest lightly between her legs, the softest pressure against the nub.
She groans and thrusts against my hand.
I pull away.
Her eyes squeeze shut. She thinks she won’t beg. That was always the game. What will it take to make strong Maddie beg?
I grab her knees and jerk them wide. When I lean close, she emits a small keening cry, knowing what’s coming. When my tongue fits into the cleft, she whimpers and strains against the belt.
I stab into her again and again, holding her open. She has to catch herself before she screams. She’s so swollen and hot. I pull back and the distress noises come again.
“I’m going to release the belt now and go back to my motel,” I say.
Her eyes fly open.
But she’s not begging.
I reach over her head for the belt. She’s breathing super fast.
“You want something?” I ask. I lean down to capture that hard nipple and suck on it, my eyes still up on her face.
Still no begging.
I lift away. “I’ll just undo this now.”
“PLEASE!” she cries out. “Now, please, now now now.”
I waste zero time but grab her ankles and tuck them on my shoulders. I give her exactly what I know she wants, deep, forceful thrusts that shove her against her bindings.
She can’t stop all the cries from escaping as her body explodes straight into the orgasm. Just the sound of her blasts right through my willpower, and I unleash into her. Everything shudders, my overworked muscles screaming, and euphoria roars through me like a drug.
She’s breathing hard, and I’m worse, panting and grasping her ankles. I quickly release the belt so she can sit up and hold on to me. Her whole body trembles and I get it, I know what she’s feeling. Vulnerability. Power. Trust. Danger. Release.
Everything we were before.
And the extra stuff now. This connection through our daughter and knowing that we’ve gotten this second chance to get it all back.
“I love you, Parker,” she says, and it’s almost a sob, like she’s confessing something horrible.
“I know, I know,” I tell her and stroke her hair. “We’re going to figure this out.”
On the far side of the house, the front door opens. Delores. There’s this long moment, then it slams. Maddie looks up at me, eyes wide and bright. “My clothes…”
I laugh, imagining the old biddy seeing the bra on the lampshade, a sweater on the floor.
Then Maddie starts giggling, and she can’t stop, and I know that no matter what, we’re going to make this happen. We’re going to be okay.
Chapter Seventeen
The night of my first East Coast fight comes damn fast. The arena is decent, not too different from where I fight in LA. The money is actually better, if I win. But worse if I lose.
I’m not going to lose.
It’s a four-fight lineup. I’m second. My opponent is Blitzkrieg, an older fighter who is hungry to make a name for himself before he ages out. He’s a lot like Colt in that once he gets a bead on your defensive style, he’ll exploit every weakness in a machine-gun round that is very effective in taking fighters down. He’s won eight of his last ten matches.
But then, I’m ten for ten.
Maddie is here, and this makes me more nervous than I normally am before a fight. She’s sitting on a metal folding chair in a corner of the green room, where a couple of the fighters have gathered, but mostly it’s random people, sponsors and girlfriends.
“I’d forgotten what this is like,” she says. She looks cool and serene in jeans and a silvery shirt. Her hair is blown straight, so it’s long. I sit close and twirl a piece between my fingers. She doesn’t know anyone, and I don’t really either. So I figure I’ll stick with her as long as I can, until I have to go back to get wrapped and warm up.
“You decided if you’re going to watch the fight or not?” I ask.
Maddie stares up into my eyes. “I don’t think I can.”
I reach down to squeeze her hand. “I haven’t lost a fight in a long time.”
“Being cocky is the fastest way to lose.”
I can’t argue with that. “I know. Trust me, I’m as nervous as a beginner right now. I just don’t think you’ll see a repeat of that fight four years ago.”
She winces at the mention of it and closes her eyes.
“It’s fine. Don’t go out there,” I say. “Just wait back here. I’ll tell you how it went when it’s over.”
She nods.
Panther sticks his head through the doorway. “Yo, Power Play, let’s go.”
I have to let go of Maddie. I didn’t ask her to come. She just did. I don’t
know if this is some sort of test. Maybe it’s her way of figuring out if she can handle this now that she’s older and not so vulnerable.
I follow Panther down a hall. I already know what I’m doing with the winnings. I’m moving here. And I’m buying her a ring. I want Maddie with me. I want to lock her in. If we can get that for better or for worse, we’ll make it. I just know it.
The locker room isn’t fancy or segregated. We’re all in the same big concrete bunker. Blitzkrieg is in the corner with his trainer. He looks over at me and nods in greeting. He’s not quite as lean as me, and his legs aren’t as broad. His hair is almost corporate with its layered cut. He doesn’t really look like his name.
“Time for weigh-in,” a squat balding man says, and I step on the scale. I’ve worked hard the last couple days, so I’m a couple pounds down from topping out the weight category.
Blitzkrieg steps away to take a piss, no doubt to make sure he qualifies. I personally make sure I never have to dehydrate to fit in the weight class, although if I decide to drop to featherweight, I might have to. Probably best to bulk up to middleweight. I do know I won’t ever compete as a light heavyweight. The last thing I need is to have Colt in my weight class. I’m never going to go up against him. Not going to happen.
Blitzkrieg qualifies by mere ounces, giving him an edge on weight. But I’m not worried. It’s all about stamina, how much gas you have in the tank. Even if he gets a chance to unleash, I know he’ll burn through his energy. If I can survive it, I’ll take him for sure.
But Maddie’s going to be waiting. I don’t really want to take even one bashing from this guy. I want to look as unscathed as possible when I go back to her.
I need a clean, decisive, quick victory.
I’ve never needed it more than I do right now. Everything’s on the line. My career on this coast. Maddie agreeing to marry me. Life with Lily full-time.
Just one clean win.
Chapter Eighteen
One thing tends to be the same about fights. No matter how big or how small the arena, the fans will fill the space with noise.
I walk through the stands to screams and cheers. Nobody knows me, but they like seeing the fighters no matter who they are. Panther follows me, and one of his boys takes my sweats before I head into the cage.
An announcer calls out our names. Blitzkrieg comes up behind, and the crowd is definitely louder for the homeboy. An announcer shouts something about this being east versus west, and this riles the spectators even more.
Panther stands outside the cage next to me. “Remember, he’s got a weak left. Exploit it. Watch for that look he gives before he goes on his blitz. If he tries it, give it to him as good as he dishes it out.”
I adjust the mouthpiece against my lips. I can’t see out in the crowd due to the lights, but a figure moving along the front row catches my eye. The walk is familiar.
It’s Maddie.
Damn, she’s decided to watch.
I shove this out of my mind. The ref motions us to the center. It’s go time.
Blitzkrieg doesn’t even circle but starts punching right off. I dodge a little, judging his arm length, the speed of his hit, his positioning.
I don’t give him anything to go on at first. I just move, quick and in control, to avoid him. Within thirty seconds, he’s getting winded. This is going to be a piece of cake.
I figure the best method to take him is the old-fashioned way, one hard-core uppercut. If he takes that too easy, then I’ll go for a pin.
I wait for him to attempt a kick, and while he’s balancing, I strike. He blocks it but can’t follow up with his leg still dropping back. I jump at him, raining blows, seeing if he has a hole in his defense.
He’s on it, deflecting, unflinching in the ones I land.
Blitzkrieg grabs for my neck, trying to lock me into an upright grapple. I duck out of it and slam a knee into his ribs. He backs off.
I don’t want the match to go even one full round. The longer it takes, the more Maddie has to watch, and the more damage I’ll take. I want this over.
So I go. Knee, knee, sideswipe, kick, left, right, uppercut, SMASH.
Blitzkrieg takes it, then manages to wrap his arm around me again. I’m sick of this damn tactic. I grasp his waist and thrust, taking both of us to the cage floor.
The crowd noise starts to penetrate my concentration. Time to find out how his ground game works. I roll over him, landing elbows direct to his face. There’s blood, but it’s his, and I hope it’s not too much for Maddie to see. I have to get this done.
An armbar would be neater, cleaner, but I can’t get him over. He’s too experienced, been at this game too long to get tricked into a position like that.
Blitzkrieg wriggles loose and jumps to standing. I’m down, but I’ve been doing this flying knee strike for days with Panther. Might as well break it out now.
I leap up, knee aiming for his gut. I’ll knock him into the wall, turn him over, armbar, and out.
That’s the plan.
But Blitzkrieg knows exactly where I’m coming from, and the minute I connect, the heel of his hand goes straight into my face. I can feel the crunch, and I’m momentarily blinded with pain. I stumble back, and that’s his opening. I know it. I sense it coming. I never should have tried a new move I wasn’t prepared to defend. Every offense has to have a solid defense. I know this. You can’t attack and leave yourself open to a countermove.
Everything is red for a second. My head snaps one direction, then the other. I jab at Blitzkrieg, but I’m blinded and it lands soft.
I can’t figure out which direction is up. I know I’m falling but I’m not sure which way. I can see Blitzkrieg’s red shorts, but I can’t aim for them.
My hand hits the cage floor, then my shoulder, then my head. There’s no whistle, no end, and Blitzkrieg does exactly what I would do — he keeps fighting. He has to make sure. He has to get them to call the fight.
Maybe they do. I’m not sure. Because at that point, the roar in my ears fades into black.
***
This is the end of Fight for Her #1.
Find #2 on Amazon.
Or skip ahead and pick up the entire series boxed set.
FIGHT FOR HER is a four-book series about Parker and Maddie.
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Thank you for reading!
Love, JJ
Fight for Her is part of JJ Knight’s the Uncaged Love books about MMA fighters. If you missed Colt and Jo’s story, you might enjoy going back to read their love affair in Uncaged Love, Volumes 1-6.
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