Little Dove

by Layla Frost

  Okay, I split my focus between Maximo and the match because they were both engrossing.

  Some people thought boxing was barbaric. A fake sport for muscle heads and steroid dummies whose only talent was taking a punch.

  But they were wrong. Maybe not about it being barbaric, but about no skill being involved.

  Each fight was like a dance. A boxer had to know when to lead and when to follow. They had to be light, agile, aggressive, passive, strong, quick, and in tuned with themselves and their opponent.

  It was a sport.

  And, when done right, it was an art.

  The way Finisher and Kid Wonder fought?

  It was a masterpiece.

  Evenly matched, neither let the other run the show for long. They may have bided their time, but then they took any opening to go on the offense.

  Each time I thought one of them had it, the other fought for the upper hand.

  I missed this thrill.

  Turning, I grinned at Maximo. “This is such a good fight.”

  Before I could turn back, he palmed the back of my head and tugged me closer so his lips were at my ear. “Glad you think so.”

  At the graze of his lips, goosebumps spread across my skin. Before I could do something stupid—like beg him to trail his lips across other areas of my body—I twisted to face forward, but my ass slid from his thigh to his lap.

  Oh God.

  Maximo was hard.

  Not kinda.

  Or slightly.

  Or semi.

  Long and thick, it stretched down his other thigh.

  It may not have been the first time I’d felt it pressed against my ass, but it was the first time in public. I tried to shift back to his thigh, but his hands gripped my hips, keeping me in place.

  Sitting on his thigh had been intimate enough, but with my ass firmly on his hard-on, I was keenly aware of how few layers separated us.

  We wouldn’t even have to take them off. Just tug down his zipper and pull my panties to the side. Done.

  Before I lost my head and did something insane, I tried again to return to his thigh.

  Maximo wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing my back against his front. His voice rumbled right in my ear when he ordered, “Watch the fight.”

  “I am.”

  I wasn’t.

  “Relax.”

  “I am.”

  I wasn’t.

  He bit down on the spot that already displayed his mark. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not.”

  I was.

  Maximo went silent, and so did I. I forced myself to watch the fight because I had no clue when I’d be able to see another one, let alone one so good.

  Kid connected a killer right hook to Finisher’s jaw. He took the advantage, coming on strong and landing blow after blow. His technique was perfect, each punch landing at a different location, making it hard for Finisher to block while also inflicting damage to a widespread area.

  The crowd went wild, growing louder with each show of unfettered brutality. Like the two previous bouts, the ref was there, but he didn’t interfere. Not even when Finisher was being held up by the ropes rather than his own two feet.

  My hands clutched Maximo’s forearms as I stared at Finisher’s gloves.

  Come on, man, tap. Kid is not going to stop.

  Tap, tap, tap!

  I leaned forward, unsure if he was even conscious and able to tap out.

  Kid’s fist connected with Finisher’s eye, tearing open a cut until blood sprayed Kid’s face and chest.

  And Kid laughed.

  A twisted, cruel, gleeful laugh.

  A chill went down my spine at the sound.

  I must not have been the only one to realize how crazy he was because Finisher finally tapped.

  Almost everyone erupted in applause, though there was some angry bitching from those who’d lost their hefty bets.

  Clapping until my hands stung, my cheers cut off suddenly when Maximo spanned my hips and ground my ass into him, lifting his hips to press harder. “Ready to go, dove?”

  Yes.

  No.

  Maybe?

  Using his hold to lift me to my feet, he kept me close so when he stood, my back was pressed to his front. His arm went around my chest, keeping me pinned to him as we waited.

  Kid catapulted off the top rope like he’d joined the WWE before jogging over. He shook Maximo’s hand before gently booping my nose. “Thanks for the good luck, doll.”

  I’d have congratulated him, but Maximo spoke first. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow.’

  “Cool.” With the strut of a winner, he headed toward the long hallway, stopping occasionally when someone grabbed his attention.

  Especially if that someone was of the female variety.

  Maximo released his hold on me and took my hand. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone as we walked, just lifted his chin in the briefest acknowledgement. When we reached the crowd that’d formed at the exit, security guards I hadn’t noticed forced a path for us.

  At least the arena is safe in its lawlessness.

  Unlocking his SUV, Maximo opened my door but didn’t meet my eyes once. He got in, started the car, and began driving.

  I’d thought his withdrawn mood was because he was preoccupied with making sure the night went smoothly. As far as I could tell, it had, yet he was still on edge.

  Giving him space, I looked out the window as we made the long drive in awkward silence.

  Only once we were home and standing in the foyer did he finally break it. “Did you change your mind yet?”

  Startled, I asked, “About what?”

  “This. Us.”

  “What?”

  Speaking slowly, he enunciated each word. “Did you change your mind about us yet?”

  Yet?

  Was he trying to scare me away?

  That asshole.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Worth Every Second

  Juliet

  RAGE SIMMERED IN me, and I worked to tamp it down. I would not show him how he affected me. I would not feed his unreal, massive ego by letting him see how crushed I was. I would not be pathetic and weak by begging him to keep me.

  “Is that what you want?” I asked.

  It was his turn to be confused. Or play dumb, I wasn’t sure which. “What?”

  “Did you bring me there to scare me away?” My hold on my temper slipped, and I shook with anger. “Were you hoping I’d go running because you didn’t have the balls—”

  “Watch yourself, Juliet.”

  “Go to hell.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Been there all night, worrying you’d change your mind when you saw what I do.”

  That stole some fire from my belly, but I clutched to it. Anger was easier than sadness. It was a hell of a lot safer than hope.

  I crossed my arms. “Why would a few boxing matches make me change my mind?”

  “Those weren’t regular fights,” he pointed out.

  “Pshh. I’ve seen worse.”

  The muscle in his jaw ticked. “The whole setup is illegal.”

  “Again, I’ve seen worse.”

  He lifted his hand to count off, raising one tattooed finger after each item. “Minimal rules. Drugs. Women.”

  I lifted my hand and counted right back. “I’ve. Seen. Worse.”

  “Christ, what kind of life have you had?” he muttered, his own fire burning in his eyes.

  “Not a good one. Not until you.”

  The words were out before I could think. Vulnerable and raw, I wanted to inhale them back. I needed to keep my pride—it was the only thing I had.

  Maximo’s body went tight, his face so scarily blank, my brain screamed at me to look away. To run.

  But I couldn’t.

  He started talking, his voice even and cold. “The fights aren’t the worst thing I do.”

  “You act like this is the first time I’ve seen you do something illegal. Are you forgetting how we met?
”

  “I want to make sure you know that wasn’t a single blip in an otherwise saintly life.”

  I hated to think about that night. It put me in a dark place—but not for the reason it should’ve. I’d locked the memory deep inside, and I’d rather it never saw the light of day.

  But I forced myself to talk about it for the first time. “The night we met, you made it unmistakably clear who you are and what you do. But I’m still here. With you. Because of you.”

  His dark eyes glittered as he rubbed his hand across his jaw. Thumb dragging across his bottom lip, his voice was low with warning. “Make sure you know what you’re saying, little dove. I’ll control you. Completely. Every damn aspect of your entire life. You’ll follow my rules. When you break them, I’ll punish you until you hate me and then fuck you until you don’t.” As he stalked toward me, I stood my ground. It made his lips twist into something between a smirk and a sneer. “Too stubborn for your own good.”

  My heart raced, slamming so loudly, it should’ve echoed around us. My stomach was a tight knot, my thoughts were racing, and my blood rushed in my ears.

  And I was wet.

  So unbelievably, stupidly wet.

  Gripping my waist in one hand, he speared his other into my hair, twisting the strands as he fisted it. He tugged my head back, making my scalp sting. “I’ll take care of you until you’re just as wrapped up and addicted to me as I am to you.”

  No hesitation. No bracing. No thoughts or worries or pride.

  Automatic and honest, I whispered, “I already am, Daddy.”

  The cold, aloofness he’d carried himself with all day was gone. Like his blank mask had been torn away, lust, happiness, and relief flowed unencumbered across his face.

  He’d been worried.

  That was the desperation in his kiss. The distance he’d placed between us.

  He’d been scared I’d leave.

  He doesn’t want to lose me.

  Mouth crashing down on mine, his tongue didn’t tease my lips, coaxing them open. It forced its way in, taking what he wanted. What was his. What I’d willingly given.

  When he released my hair to palm my ass and lift, I wrapped my legs around him. He tore his lips away like it physically hurt, and I whimpered, stretching to get them back.

  “Not going to risk falling down the damn steps and hurting you,” he explained, starting up them.

  Since his mouth wasn’t an option, I kissed, licked, and nipped at his throat and jaw.

  “Fuck me, you’re gonna make me shoot off in my pants.”

  There was something so heady about knowing the effect I had on a man who was as controlled as Maximo. A shiver went through me, and I bit harder, making him groan.

  Speeding up, he carried me to his room, unlocking the door and letting it slam behind us as he lowered me. My feet had barely touched the floor when he kissed me, his large hands cupping the sides of my head.

  It was possessive and dominating and intense.

  Just like Maximo.

  Ending the kiss, he took a step away so he could untie my belt. His fingertips teased my thighs as he gathered the material of my skirt and lifted the dress over my head, leaving me in my bra, panties, and heels. His searing gaze started at my feet and slowly moved up, as though he were trying to memorize each freckle, dip, and curve of my body.

  Shrugging off his jacket, he dropped it to the floor with my dress. He toed off his shoes before ordering, “Undress me.”

  I hesitated, unsure my shaking fingers could undo a single button, much less the line of them.

  “Once I have you naked, I won’t have the patience to strip. So unless you want me to fuck you while I’m fully clothed, I suggest you undress me. Now, Juliet.”

  I liked the visual he created—and the swirl of need it created—but I wanted to see and feel all of him.

  My shaking fingers managed the buttons before pushing the shirt off his broad shoulders.

  God, he was beautiful. Each cut line. Bumped ridge. Splash of color. Even the marks that marred his skin—the puckered scars and faded slashes—added to his perfection.

  I undid his belt and slacks, letting them drop before glancing up at him.

  “Everything, little dove.”

  Happily, I shoved his black boxer briefs down. His chiseled pelvic muscles led to neatly trimmed dark hair and a hard cock that was as mouthwatering as the rest of him.

  Holy shit.

  Maximo kicked the bunched fabric to the side before adding his socks to the pile, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his intimidatingly impressive erection.

  This explains why he’s so damn arrogant. He’s got enough to back it up.

  And then some.

  Total Big Dick Energy.

  After removing my bra, Maximo knelt in front of me to undo the delicate straps of my shoes. I stepped out of them before he hooked his thumbs in the sides of my panties and slowly slid them down my legs.

  “Christ, you’re perfection,” he murmured before leaning forward to kiss the sensitive skin under my navel.

  But one small kiss wasn’t enough.

  Dipping lower, he parted my legs and pressed his mouth against me. His tongue darted out to taste, his groan vibrating through me.

  Holy shit.

  Holy shit.

  I clutched his head, partially to keep from falling but mostly to keep his mouth locked on me.

  When he pulled away, I wanted to yank him back and demand he finish what he started. But at the fire in his hooded eyes, I knew it was just the beginning.

  And the best was yet to come.

  Standing, he kissed me again, my taste on his tongue. He backed me up but my small, shuffling steps must’ve taken too long because he lifted me. When my back hit the mattress, Maximo covered my body with his. His arms supported him and his abs pressed between my spread thighs.

  His mouth left mine to tease my neck, his lips softly kissing before he bit hard enough to make me cry out. Hard enough to make me wetter.

  Hard enough to leave his mark.

  Continuing down, he licked, kissed, sucked, and nipped my breast, his skillful mouth touching everywhere but my nipple. Each time I arched and shifted, silently demanding what I needed, he moved farther away and started the process again.

  He’s killing me.

  Finally, the very tip of his tongue swirled around the hardened peak. My breath caught, and I gripped the sheets to keep from moving, but he didn’t give me more. The light touch of his tongue was more torment than relief.

  No, I’m gonna kill him.

  I hadn’t realized I’d spoken the words out loud until Maximo replied, “If this is the way I leave this world, little dove, it’d be the perfect death.”

  Whatever retort I may have scrambled together was lost and forgotten when he sucked my nipple. His teeth scraped across the sensitive skin as he slowly pulled away before sucking it in harder, his tongue swirling.

  No amount of control could stop my hips from grinding against him. I didn’t care that I was soaked. I didn’t care that I was rubbing all that wetness on him.

  I didn’t even care that he could feel it.

  All that mattered was easing the ache that grew low in my belly.

  “Jesus,” Maximo bit out, moving suddenly. I braced, worried I’d done something wrong, but he just shifted down the bed so his head was between my legs. He didn’t tease as he had with my breasts. His thumbs spread my lower lips and he speared his tongue in. Deep and rough, he groaned like he was the one receiving pleasure after being tormented.

  My legs trembled, trying to close. I wasn’t sure whether it was to get away from the intensity or to hold him in place.

  His hands moved to grip my inner thighs, keeping me open so he could eat me.

  Devour me.

  In tune with me and my body, he knew exactly how to build the tension while keeping me teetering on an edge that rose higher and higher.

  I’d never experienced such a beautifully frustrati
ng pleasure.

  Sliding a hand up my thigh, he eased a finger in. Then another, stretching me. With his mouth and hand working me in unison, my orgasm hit suddenly, launching me over the edge I’d been chasing.

  My pulse thumped at the base of my throat.

  My thoughts went hazy.

  My eyes squeezed shut.

  And I exploded, coming completely undone.

  Maximo continued his fervent pace as he wrung everything from me then demanded more. My orgasm faded just to start building again before I even had a chance to catch my breath.

  It was too much.

  Too intense.

  But as I fisted his hair, my hand abruptly switched from tugging him away to clutching him closer.

  Because the overstimulated feeling faded, leaving need in its place.

  “Maximo—” I started, my word turning to a sharp cry when he bit down on my clit and slammed his fingers in.

  He lifted his head to look at me. “Who am I?”

  “Daddy,” I corrected. “I need…”

  His fingers pumped in and out, his thumb stroking my clit. “What do you need?”

  “More,” I pleaded, mindless and restless and a million other lesses that I was too turned on to think of. “I need more. You.”

  “You’re so fucking tight. I’ve got to get you ready to take me.”

  “If I was any readier, I’d flood Vegas.”

  “Christ. Jesus fucking Christ, you really are killing me.” Sliding his fingers free, he moved up my body to search my face.

  If he was looking for doubt or reluctance, he wouldn’t find it. I wanted him. Badly. I’d never been more sure of anything in my entire life.

  Maximo kneeled between my thighs, his spread legs pushing mine wider. He fisted his cock, lining up the head with my ready pussy.

  I didn’t want there to be a barrier separating us, but I also didn’t want to be stupid.

  “Have you been tested?” I blurted.

  Maximo froze at my question. “I’d never risk your safety, Juliet. I’ve never been with anyone bare, and I haven’t been with anyone since I was last tested.”

  “I’m on the pill,” I said, wanting to hug Ms. Vera for that. “And, you know, I haven’t… So I’m good, too.”

  “Do you want me to use a condom anyway?”