by Laila Cole
Drake backed away and taunted Castro. “Come on you little bitch! Is that all you’ve got?”
“Come on baby hit him!” I screamed. I lost myself in the fight.
Castro charged at him, firing off a round of quick jabs against Drake’s bruised sheath of abdominal muscle. Drake’s face grimaced in pain as wounds that hadn’t yet healed were re-aggravated. Castro had left his guard down and Drake capitalized, landing a left jab to his nose and followed with an uppercut to his chin, causing Castro to stumble backward, but he didn’t fall.
“Come on Drake, give it to him! You’ve got him!”
Jaclyn and Jason had pushed forward to meet me at the very edge of the pit. I turned to Jaclyn, yelling over the roar of the crowd. “Aren’t there supposed to be rounds or something?”
She shook her head. “No, the first one to get knocked out loses. Both men fight till one drops.”
When the crowd began to boo Castro and cheer for Drake is when the fight got dirty. Castro ran toward him, jumping through the air and tackling him. It had quickly turned into a wrestling match. There were no rules. I don’t know where Drake found the strength to continue fighting, but he fended off Castro, using his strength and size to roll him over until he was straddling his chest, pounding his head into the ground with a maniacal, bloodthirsty face. And then he stopped. “Do you want more motherfucker?” he screamed. “Go on. Tap out you little bitch!”
Castro coughed up blood. “Never!”
The crowd roared even louder. Drake grabbed Castro’s black hair and held his head up.
“Do it! Do it! Do it!” the crowd chanted.
With all Drake’s might he slammed his fist in Castro’s face until his body went limp. He stood up to face the crowd, covered in blood and dirt. He held his hands up victoriously as Castro’s body lay motionless in the dirt.
A group of bikers ran toward Castro, grabbed him by his arms and dragged him out of the pit. I cheered for Drake, but once I realized he was victorious and safe, my anger at his lies fired back up in intensity. I then began to worry about Castro. I looked at Jason. “Holy shit! Is he ok.”
Jason looked scared. “Yea, but that was a pretty ruthless beat down. I gotta go check on him.”
“I’m coming with you!” Jaclyn said, and they left me there, all alone, staring at my stepbrother as he made his rounds around the pit, shaking the hands of newly minted fans. I stood right at the edge and the moment he came toward me our eyes connected, and neither of us said a word. He was absolutely shocked to see me.
Cyrus came back out to the center of the ring as other members of the Steel Assassins MC shoveled fresh dirt over the droplets of blood in the sand. He grabbed Drake’s hand and held it high. “Winner by knockout. Jackson Douglas!” The crowd went ballistic and so did my heart.
TO BE CONCLUDED
Excerpts From My Other Stories
Dominated By My Alpha, Overprotective Stepbrother
I couldn’t help but smile as I entered my first frat party at the Phi house. I always imagined it would be like this. You know, awesome. Hunky men and beautiful women were all around me, drinking, smoking weed, and otherwise having a blast. A line of men with their shirts off waited for a turn to do keg stands as others cheered them on. A group of men with glazed over eyes left the bathroom, wiping leftover cocaine from their noses. My eyes then drifted to the dance floor in front of me. Men and women were grinding on each other to a hard-pumping techno beat. Christ, it looked just like simulated fucking and I couldn’t wait to join them.
I scanned the room for the bar and found a handsome frat boy with blonde hair and blue eyes pouring drinks for the sorority girls who were fawning all over him. I guess it was his eyes, because I too felt the same silly sensation erupt inside of me as I approached him. I almost giggled, but restrained myself. The last thing I wanted was to look like a fool at my first frat party.
“What are you having sister?” he said.
“Vodka cranberry, on the rocks.”
He flashed me a smile showcasing his perfectly aligned teeth. “Sure thing. What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“Addison,” I said, too nervous to say another word.
“Well all right Addison, your wish is my command, one vodka cranberry on the rocks coming right up.”
He poured my drink, tossing a couple ice cubes in it and slid the clear plastic cup across the mini bar into the waiting contours of my hand. I smiled. “Thanks,” I said, too much of a coward to ask him his name.
I pulled the cup to my mouth when out of nowhere a hand gripped my wrist, preventing it from ever touching my lips. “What the hell?” I said, a bolt of surprise coursing through me as I looked up to find my stepbrother Trent. I hadn’t seen him in over a year.
His face was stern, as if ready to discipline me. “You don’t think you’re going to drink that on my watch do you?”
“Get your hand off of me!” I yanked it back spilling half of my drink on the scraped up wooden floors of the frat house. I’d almost forgotten that he was going to be here. His superiority complex over me had really grown old; I was eighteen for Christ’s sake, old enough to make my own decisions, just not according to him.
He gripped my wrist tighter until it hurt but didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to. His intense stare into my eyes told me all that I needed to know. With his other hand he reached for my drink, pulling it from my fingers, and I let him.
“Hey man, take your hand off of her,” the bartender said.
Trent released me and walked up to him. “Excuse me?”
“What’s your fucking problem bro? It’s just one drink. Leave her alone.”
Trent slid his arm across the bar knocking red party cups and garnishments all over the floor. “She’s my sister, asshole. Give her another drink and I’ll fuck you up. Do you understand me?”
The frightened eyes of the bartender looked directly at the ground; this wasn’t a fight he was going to pick. “Sorry bro, I didn’t know.”
Trent nodded, continuing to stare him down. “That’s what I thought.”
The rest of my vodka-cranberry disappeared in one swift swig down Trent’s throat. He placed the cup on the bar and walked toward me. “Don’t ever let me see you drinking here again. These guys are notorious for spiking drinks and raping women.”
I began to cry. “That’s such bullshit! I don’t believe you. Why are you so fucking mean to me? He wasn’t trying to hurt me; he was actually sweet and kinda funny.”
“I’m not being mean to you Addison. I’m just making sure you don’t get hurt. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”
“No, I don’t. There’s no reason for this. I’m an adult; I can make my own decisions.”
He laughed. “Not around me you can’t, you’ll always be my little sister.”
“We’re not even related!” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“Cold,” he said. “Ice cold, especially given how long I’ve known you. You should be grateful that I care enough to protect you.”
“I’m sorry Trent. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“But you did, though.”
“No, I-I-”
He cut me off. “Yes, you did. Enough. I’ve been your stepbrother for 14 years. I’ve earned the right to look after you, even if you aren’t my blood, understand?”
I nodded. I guess on some facet of his argument he had a point, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
My girlfriend Susie who I’d just met at the dorms a week ago stumbled toward Trent and I on a pair of neon blue heels in the skankiest black dress I’d ever seen, which matched her raven hair. “Addison, you gotta come see this! There’s a pool party at the Kappa house!”
If Trent were to find me in such a dress with my ass hanging out he’d strike me across the face. Trent gave me one of his dangerous, unpredictable stares.
Susie composed herself as she swayed in f
ront of us, holding a rum and coke in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. She sipped her drink through a tiny red straw as she looked up and down at Trent. “Jesus baby girl you’ve found yourself a hunk already? Didn’t take you long at all, hot damn! I know you said you wanted to get laid tonight, and I’m gunna tell you right now, you could do a hell of a lot worse.” Through a crooked smile she sucked up more of her drink.
Trent looked at me, his face turning red, though he maintained his composure.
I’d never really thought of Trent as a hunk, it was too hard to get passed the belittling and control of the last 14 years. As much as I hated to admit it, Susie was right. In the eyes of any other woman, Trent was a stud. He kept his body in immaculate condition; working out every day to keep his six pack abs and chiseled chest on point. His wavy brown hair gave way to a set of green eyes that glimmered like emeralds, almost enough to make you think he was a decent guy, but I knew better. I’d also had the unfortunate experience of seeing him nude on many occasions. His dick was big enough to please even the pickiest of women, as every one of my high school girlfriends could attest to. Last time I checked he’d fucked them all. I could only sigh in exasperation. Susie was just another floozy eager to take his cock, just like high school. God dammit I hated him. “Susie, meet Trent, my brother.”
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