by Paula Cox
Her large blue eyes grow large as she looks over her shoulder. Distracted, she doesn’t even notice my hand sliding up the inside of her dress towards her still-moist panties. My thumb hooks around the cotton band. Jenna gasps as I slip the fabric to the side of her velvety slit. My hand presses down even further on her mouth. As much as I love to hear her moan and scream my name, this time will be silent.
With her focused back on me, I place her slender hand on my pants. She catches on quickly as to what I want. Following my own tender strokes on her pussy, she matches my rhythm as she massages my cock through the outside of my jeans. Even through the thick fabric, I can feel the warmth and strength of her stroke. As my cock grows and throbs for her, she relents. With a bit of humor in her eyes, she stares me down while zipping my jeans off and removing the thick leather belt on my hips. My cock practically flies out of the package, eager to meet her.
I begin to move her legs into position when she places a finger to my mouth. “Shhh,” she hushes, and I’m helpless as she sinks back down to her knees on the cold concrete floor of this basement dungeon. Between my legs, her head bobs towards my cock. The light from the one overhead light shines down on the halo of her hair. And for a second, everything goes flash white as the touch of her hand is replaced by the juicy sweetness of her tongue on the tip of my shaft.
Jenna’s head dives down onto my thick rod till her still-red lips plaster a moist kiss on the base of my cock. She holds herself down there before heading up. Her hair bobs as she repeats this slowly, over and over again. I bite my fist as hard as I can to keep myself from calling out her name. My other hand holds on to that ponytail so that it wraps around my hand and wrist. Even with her taking over, I still need a bit of control.
Her lips suck me with just enough pressure that I can feel my skin draw up to her mouth as she skims her way up and down. Her whole body takes over, weaving and ducking as she speeds up to a rapid, frantic pace. I can barely focus on her face with it moving so quickly. I feel her hand wrap around my balls, and it’s all over for me. Inch by inch, every muscle in my body tenses to her efforts. My toes curl up in my boots, and I pray to God I can control this animal in me.
“Stop!” I burst out, forgetting the no talking rule. We both look towards the door, but there’s zero sign anyone cares what we’re doing in here. For all we know, they’re making some plan to kill us instead of going through with the boxing match. That thought alone makes my blood boil.
I look back towards Jenna and command her, “Get on me.”
She scrambles back up and straddles me with her legs dangling over the sides. Her toes just barely touch the ground, but I hold tight to her a round chunk of her apple ass for support. This is going to be a bumpy ride.
Jenna locks eyes with me as she uses her hand to guide my cock to her cunt. I watch as her mouth goes from locked shut to open in awe of the sensation. My shaft digs through her, sawing her in half. We both look down at our connection before beginning to move. It’s insane how in sync we are. Without words, she manages to meet the in and out of my hips, rocking gently at first, and then speeding up to match the pace of her earlier movements.
Her body is electric. Even with both of us almost fully dressed, feeling the curve of her hip, the fullness of her tits, the sharp angles of her shoulders and chin is enough for me. She will always be enough for me. I kiss her again, and again, and again until every part of us is held together—from the feet wrapped around mine to my cock in her slit to her arms wrapped around my neck, to our lips and tongues exploring the other’s.
Jenna’s small frame bounces lightly on mine. I feel her breathing pick up and become shallower as she gasps for air in between kisses. On the back of my neck, a hot searing pain skims the surface of my skin. Her nails dig in as she gives into me.
When she pulls away, her head and body dipping back while still holding on, I watch her soundlessly say my name, “Rev... Rev... Rev...” over and over again until it comes. Her orgasm screams through her with her eyes rolling back and her legs growing tense and then relaxing against my lap. Even her ankles stiffen around mine until her pussy takes over all of the work.
I’m just as close. I can feel the need to speed up and take over, and I don’t let myself stop this time. I need her to take my cum; to feel what she is able to do to me. I need to release this energy building up inside of me—all the darkness, the pain, the love, the joy. I need her to know that I care about her just as much as she does for me.
My hips speed up, drilling into her without a moment of pause. It goes and goes until I think I can’t get any higher into her body. She leans down and bites into my shoulder. I should take it as a sign to stop or hold off, but I can’t. It’s too late. The beast within me is bursting out. I feel my feet steady on the floor as I push off. With her still on me, I fly with her over to the nearest wall. Her back slams on the smooth surface as I continue even harder and faster than on the chair.
“Jenna,” I whisper into her ear, “I’m going to...”
“Come...” she finishes. “Please come for me, Rev.” She means it. The look in Jenna’s eyes is enough for me.
I drop her to her feet so that she kneels before me. In one pour, the cum shoots out of me and onto her pearl white tits. The black dress covers it up while it travels between her cleavage.
We have just enough time to clean up, each wiping the other off before she notices the lack of noise from the outside.
“Does that mean...” she begins.
“It’s almost time,” I tell her, answering the question neither of us wants to face. “They’re not going to keep anyone waiting.”
“Then, I have to tell you something, Rev.” She stands to her feet. Her long fingers fidget as she looks more flushed than she did when I had her panting like a dog in my lap.
“Don’t say it,” I shoot back. “Not now. Save it for later.”
“What if there isn’t a later?” Her eyes drop, clearly disappointed.
“What did I tell you earlier, Jenna?” I remind her, “I’m fighting for youtonight—for us. And not one single, solitary goddamn thing is going to stop me from winning.” I kiss her one more time, both of us too afraid to pull away.
Moments later, they come for me.
There isn’t a knock or an announcement—just two guys roughly my size holding out an old, tattered roll of boxing tape for me to use.
“I don’t use this shit,” I say, but they both shake their head and force it on me. Enrique must be going all out for this.
In the corner, Jenna watches on with a shaking lip. While I’m finishing up, one of the men links an arm with her and drags her out. She barely realizes what’s happening before she begins to shout, “Where are you taking me! Please! Just let me—”
Silently, I watch her turn out the doorway and towards the hallway.
“Rev! Please! Rev!” she screams
“You ready, Rev?” one of the guys ask. He looks vaguely familiar to me, but all the motorcycle kids look alike when you run in these circles. He’s young, though. Maybe he’s seen me around or heard my name. Maybe Enrique trusted him because he looks like he hits the gym as much as I do. Who knows, but at least he’s a relatively friendly face.
“What’s going on out there?” I ask. “Why is it taking so fucking long to make a ring for us to fight in?”
He looks towards the hallway before saying, “Enrique wanted to make some money off the fight. He brought in the Devil’s Highway guys and some bookies.” He adds on the side, “No one is betting on you. Enrique would probably have us shot dead if we did. It’s driving up the bets on the other side.”
“I guess it’s good to know someone’s on my side,” I mutter as he shows me out the door. I try not to slow down or look back at him or the room we’re leaving behind. I don’t run from my shit. I face it. There would be no looking back for me. I’ve made my decision, and it’s staring me in the face with the sound of the men chanting Enrique’s name over the sound of someone�
�s shitty rock music.
While the sea of Red Dukes and other club members part to make way for me, I take in the cool air. It’s the perfect night to either die or beat the shit out of someone.
Without a cloud in the sky, there’s a good view of the wine-red harvest moon. My dad, who was into superstitious bullshit, used to say that red moons meant war was coming. He was right. It is staring me in the face tonight.
I march myself into the makeshift ring someone created with a few pallets of wood and an old bandstand. From my limited experience working in boxing gyms, it’s about the right size, and except for the floor, has the bare bones of a good fighting area. Though I doubt Enrique cares about regulations and rules. All he wants is the show, and he’s giving a hell of a one as he dances and prances through the ring, begging his boys to shout along.
“You ready for this?” he asks as he skids his way over. His shoulder slams into mine. It’s begun.
“Ring the fucking bell,” I tell him through my gritted teeth. “Let’s get this over with.”
I watch him signal some club member to bang a wind chime. Out the corner of my eye, I then see Jenna standing off to my left, still hooked up with the club member escort. She mouths something to me I can’t quite make out.
Enrique takes advantage of this. A fist slams into my cheek and my head pitches back from the punch. The entire crowd wooshes in surprise. No one expected Enrique to nail me like that, at least not on the first hit. He lands another, this time to my side. I push the pain away and bring myself back to the present. Whatever Jenna wanted, whatever she was trying to tell me, it’ll have to wait until I finish this guy.
It takes me a moment to get my feet under me, but as soon as I’m there, I am all there. My hits fly fast, most nailing the target. I get a sweet cross in that knocks his head so far back, I know his nose will never look the same again. Blood streaks out around our feet as we go back and forth, hit after hit.
The first-round ends, but there are no winners here, and there ain’t no breaks to be had either. We both ignore the sound and continue to fight. With each jab and counter I get in, the more lightning I feel travel through me. I pick up speed while he loses it. I nail him into the corner at one point, but he manages to duck under me enough to free himself. He doesn’t know that they called me “pitbull” at military school. I don’t quit my attack.
The second bell rings, louder this time. Some of the non-Red Dukes stand and scream, demanding we take a break. Enrique slams a fist into my head before calling time.
His ring, his rules.
I walk over towards the side of the ring I deem as mine and look towards Jenna. She’s standing still, motioning somewhere with her head. What the fuck? The guy holding her arm looks irritated. Is she trying to get herself killed?
Just then, as I’m trying to get her to clarify, I hear the bell. It comes too soon. No way is that enough time. Jenna’s face goes white as she points behind me. Over the noise of the crowd rumbling to a fever pitch, she screams, “Rev!”
I turn around to see Enrique, knife in between his fists. It slashes at my side and digs itself into my hip. The pain knocks me off my feet and onto the ground. I listen to the sound of the crowd. Most are shouting Enrique’s name, either thinking he landed one great hit or support of that illegal chump move.
But whatever they think he did, one thing is true—I’m done.
Chapter Fifteen
Jenna
“Rev!” I lose my voice in my throat as I try to choke back a scream that I can’t allow to come. The man with his arm around me holds me down by the waist while the rest of the crowd barely registers what’s going on. Did no one else see the knife in Enrique’s hand? Was he seriously that good at fooling people?
Rev stumbles backward as Enrique chases him down. His feet move too quickly while Rev’s seem heavy as bricks in a bucket. They drag on the ground, and even from here, I can see his shiny black boots turn matte from the rust-colored blood stains. He clutches his side while Enrique gears up for another hit—this time without the knife, which he’s thrown to the other end of the ring.
“Enrique! Kill that shifty motherfucker!” someone behind me shouts.
“C’mon, Killer! Teach that asshole a lesson! Take his ass out!”
“Fifty bucks more that Rev don’t make it to the end of the round! Anybody want in on that action?”
Their words spin around in my head as my world sucks in and out around me. I feel as if I could hurl, but I have to force myself to watch. Someone has to watch Rev, even if this is it. I owe him that. And then, I would make my escape—just as I’d promised him.
While Enrique lands a hit to Rev’s cut upside, I glance up towards the man holding me. His tan, wrinkled face is unreadable with the dark sunglasses and long beard. His lip twitches at the crowd, reacting to Enrique’s next blow.
“Are we ready?” I ask him in a low whisper. “I think it’s about time we head out.”
He nods, and I take a deep breath. The next part is going to be hell on Earth, but I have to do it.
With my eyes closed, I scream so hard that my head throbs at my own sound. My arms begin to thrash, and I pull and grasp towards the ring where Rev is still on his feet, but just barely.
The drums in my ears pop, and I’m just able to hear the man lean over to another Red Duke, “This crazy fuckin’ bitch is going nuts! I’m going to get her the hell out of here. If anyone asks, I’m taking her to the shed so she can wait for Enrique there and stop givin’ me such a goddamn headache.”
Whoever he tells doesn’t show any sign of reaction. I doubt he could hear him over the rest of the men rising to their feet as Rev’s fall to the ground. This is what it was like with gladiators—vicious and bloodthirsty.
My guard leans down and commands me. “Go. Move. Now!” His hand slaps the back of my spine and forces me forward through a group of men too distracted by the fight to even give a shit about where I’m going and why. I keep my eyes on Rev as the ring becomes fainter to see. Even at a few hundred feet away, I can still make out his large, hulking figure—the body I used to think belonged to a beast.
We turn down a corner and head towards the main parking lot, where I finally have a moment to catch my breath. The man lets go of me, and I press myself against the cold, scratchy brickwork. My lungs search for air. I can’t believe I did that... I can’t believe I let go right when Rev probably needed me the most. The urge to run back to him is egging me on, but my feet and legs feel as if they’ve turned to lead. Warm tears stream down my cheeks—everything’s a watery haze.
“He’s gonna make it, Jenna. That son of a bitch doesn’t know how to die,” the guard reassures me as he removes his glasses. With them on, I didn’t even recognize Tommy, Rev’s cousin and the bar owner I’d met. The fake beard is a nice touch too. Once he removes it, it’s hard to mistake the resemblance between the two men. I wonder how I didn’t notice their likeness before.
“How the hell did you get in here?” I ask.
Earlier, when he’d whispered into my ear that he was here to help Rev, I didn’t exactly have time to ask for details. All I knew was that he was here and he had backup somewhere. I’d tried to tell Rev when he was in the ring. I pointed out towards the parking lot where Tommy had told me to look when I became distraught at leaving Rev back in the room, but I doubt he knew what I was mouthing to him from afar.
“It was easy—too easy if you ask me.” He begins to walk toward a group of men waiting on the far side of the lot. I struggle to keep up with him as he continues, “Vic sent a messenger to the bar a few hours ago saying that Rev was in trouble and needed some help. He couldn’t round up the guys fast enough to get him out of there and do a good sweep, so he needed someone that the Red Dukes wouldn’t easily recognize to sneak in.”
Thinking back to the bar and the two Red Duke members that assaulted me on the pool table, I remember them saying something about Tommy harboring other club members in Duke territory. He would be a face
that wouldn’t be too easy to identify, and if he was, he could be relatively neutral about it being in the club circles. Still, it was damn bold of him to pretend to be a Duke.
“Once I was in, I clocked out some old Duke member that... well, he sort of looked like me. Poor bastard was so trashed, he didn’t even see me coming for him. I took his dirty ass jacket and put on his glasses. The beard was something I had from an old Halloween costume I thought might come in handy if I had to blend in.”
“It worked, I guess,” I say, still not seeing exactly why or how he got here. In all of his explanation, only one thing really stood out.
“What do you mean Vic asked you to help him? How did he know that Rev was here or that he was in trouble? Is that him?” I point toward the black leather clad men idling on their bikes. The leader, or at least the one who looks to be in charge, barks on his phone and paces around while the rest watch him carefully.