Broken: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance

by Scarlet MMA, Simone

“Ha!” The shaven-headed Spaniard growled, as he turned his attention back to Lyssa. “That’s the problem with the Batras men. Always with the talk. Never with the action.”

  And then he knelt down, and looked Lyssa dead in the eye again.

  She squirmed and struggled – genuinely frightened for the first time.

  “So, you little American slut,” Buenaventuras grinned. “Are you ready to make amends to me? My suit will cost 100 euros to dry-clean. I reckon my boys and I can take that much out of that tight little ass of yours.”

  He reached over and stroked her cheek. Lyssa squeezed her eyes shut in disgust.

  “I’ll go first,” Bruno purred, and his hand reached to squeeze her ass again. “I’ve never fucked an American before.” And then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pajamas, and wrenched them down around her thighs.

  Lyssa sobbed, as she felt the cold evening air on her now-bare ass.

  “And once I’ve blown my load in you,” Bruno continued, this time squeezing her bare ass with his calloused hand, “I’ll let my boys have their turn. One at a time.”

  He snorted, sliding his fingers between her thighs, until he encountered her neatly-trimmed pubes.

  “By the time we leave you tonight, you’ll be full, and dripping, and barely able to walk.”

  And for the first time in her life, Lyssa sobbed in fear.

  She felt his fingers nuzzle between the lips of her tightly-clenched cunt, and watched him start to unbuckle his pants with his other hand.

  Oh, God, she moaned. So, this was it. Her memory of Spain was to be this – gang-raped on the hood of a car, in front of the eyes of Alberte and his family.

  But then a loud, clear voice rang out across the courtyard.

  “Bruno Buenaventura!”

  Bruno paused from probing between Lyssa’s legs, and looked up across the hood of the car.

  Lyssa turned her head too, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  It was Silas, face contorted in anger. As he wheeled his chair out onto the cobblestones, he roared: “You let her go right now!”

  Chapter Fifty

  Lyssa

  Bruno’s hands slithered from between Lyssa’s legs, and the tall man straightened up with a sneer.

  Wiping her wetness on his pant leg, Buenaventura turned to the man in the wheelchair, and laughed mockingly at him.

  “Look who it is!” Bruno scoffed. “The cavalry rolling in.”

  Lyssa gasped, as she man holding her down across the hood of the Mercedes let go.

  She slumped to the cobblestones, bare ass hitting the cold stone. With a grimace of pain, she wrenched up her pajama pants, and tried to massage feeling back into her twisted, aching arm.

  Meanwhile, Bruno and his henchman stood tall in front of Silas, and sneered mockingly at the former fighter, in his wheelchair.

  “Why don’t you roll your broken ass inside, Silas?” Bruno growled, putting his hands on his hips. “This isn’t any business of yours.”

  “You touch her, and you’re making it my business,” Silas guided the chair forward with his big hands, seemingly unafraid of the two men towering above him.

  “I’m going to be doing me than just touching her, you cripple,” Bruno sneered. “In fact, if you’re going to be providing an audience, maybe I’ll fuck her in the ass instead.”

  “I’m warning you!” Silas pointed an aggressive finger at Bruno. “You and your little friends better get back in that pretty car and get the fuck out of here, or so help me…”

  “Or so help you what?” Bruno scoffed. He stepped up closer to Silas, looming above him in his chair. “Just what are you going to do, you fucking cripple?”

  Laughing cruelly, Bruno shook his head.

  “You can’t do anything. You can just sit there and watch. And right now, I’m going to make you watch as we each take turns fucking that pretty American girlfriend of yours.”

  Hawking up a mouthful of phlegm, Bruno spat in Silas’ face.

  “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  And that was the breaking point.

  Slumped on the cobblestones, Lyssa watched as the former MMA fighter snarled in anger.

  His big hands gripped the sides of the wheelchair. The chair wobbled and creaked.

  And then, to her astonishment, Silas began lifting himself out of it.

  Legs wobbling, with sweat beading on his brow, Silas Batras hauled himself up to his unsteady feet – and suddenly he was the one looming over Bruno Buenaventura.

  270lbs of rock hard, Spanish muscle.

  Bruno’s eyes widened. The shaven-headed thug took a staggering step back, lifting his hands to protect his face.

  But it was too late.

  Silas swung one of his huge, heavy fists and clocked Bruno straight across the jaw.

  Thwack!

  Chapter Fifty One

  Lyssa

  The shaven-headed Spaniard was knocked clean off his feet.

  Bruno must have sailed six feet across the cobblestones – before finally crashing down like a sack of potatoes when gravity finally caught up with him again.

  He lay there, utterly still. He might have been dead for all anybody knew.

  And, as he fell, Lyssa heard a skittering clatter across the cobblestones – like somebody rolling dice across them. It took her a second to realize it wasn’t dice tumbling across the stones.

  It was two of Bruno’s teeth.

  The two men holding Alberte released the battered Spaniard, and backed away. Likewise, the man who’d been holding Lyssa across the hood of the Mercedes backed up nervously.

  “Okay,” Silas growled, turning on his unsteady feet to confront the three remaining thugs. “Any of you fancy the same?” And, as if to reinforce that threat, he lifted his enormous fists.

  It was three against one – and their opponent looked like he could barely stand. Nevertheless, the three thugs didn’t choose to take Silas up on his offer.

  “Well, then,” the towering fighter growled. “Pick that piece of shit up, and get the fuck out of here.”

  And, like dogs scurrying at their master’s command, the three of them did exactly what Silas demanded.

  The two men who’d been roughing up Alberte crossed the courtyard and scooped up Bruno, hefting him up by hooking their arms under his armpits.

  “Huuuunnnngh,” Bruno groaned, answering the unspoken question of whether or not he was still alive.

  The third man swung open the door to the Mercedes, and slid into the leather seat. A moment later, the powerful engine roared into life, just as Bruno was hefted unceremoniously into the back seat.

  The headlights seared across the courtyard, as the driver backed the Mercedes up, and gunned it through the archway of Bodegas Batras. A moment later, the powerful car was roaring down the road, until all they could hear was the sound of its exhaust in the distance.

  Then, and only then, did Silas groan, and slump limply to the cobblestones.

  Chapter Fifty Two

  Silas

  “So, you can walk?” Alberte was caught between excitement, and anger. “You can walk?”

  The family were in the living room of the old mansion, and Silas was laid out on the threadbare couch – his legs up on a stool.

  “How long have you know this?” Alberte had an ice-pack pressed to his head, but seemed oblivious to his injuries. “Are you telling me I carried you up and down stairs for three weeks for nothing?”

  Silas gestured to his brother to calm down.

  “I… I didn’t know. Not until tonight.” He looked up at Celestina, Alberte and Lyssa – all staring down at him expectantly. “Tonight I just felt so much anger inside me. I had to do something. And then I just struggled to get up… and I could.”

  “You didn’t just stand up. You knocked that bastard’s teeth out!” Celestina held out her hand, the two bloody teeth laid out in her palm like a grisly trophy. “You were magnificent.”

  “You were,” Lyssa agreed, w
rapping her arms tightly around herself. “You saved my ass. Literally.”

  She shuddered at the thought of Bruno and his three men making good on their threats.

  “I… I didn’t know I had it in me,” Silas stammered. “I thought I was broken… For good.”

  “The doctor always said there was still hope,” Celestina squeezed Alberte’s arm, and grinned at Silas. “Oh, I am so happy for you.” She turned to Alberte. “Aren’t you happy?”

  “Oh, sure,” the Spaniard snorted sarcastically. “I’m happy. Happy that you knocked the fucking teeth out of one of the most men in Logroño.”

  Alberte shook his head.

  “If the Buenaventuras weren’t determined to get their hands on my winery before, they will be now.”

  “Our winery,” with a groan, Silas lifted his legs off the couch. “It’s our winery, brother, and I’m not going to let anything happen to it.”

  Gripping the side of the couch, Silas struggled to stand up. His legs wobbled, and his knuckles turned white as he supported himself, but moments later he was swaying uncertainly, upright at last.

  Alberte didn’t seem impressed.

  “Our winery, is it now?” He sneered. “It wasn’t our winery when you fucked off to America. Or our winery while you wheeled around in that fucking wheelchair. I’ve been running this place on my own for nearly ten years now. What makes you think any part of it belongs to you?”

  Silas wheeled around, narrowing his eyes.

  “I don’t want to own any part of Bodegas Batras,” he hissed. “But I’ll be damned if I let the Buenaventuras get their hands on the place.”

  And then he took a staggering step forward – and the palm he laid on his brother’s shoulder was only partly for support.

  “I know I’ve failed you, brother,” he admitted, looking Alberte square in the eye. “I know I’ll never make it up to you – leaving you to run this place alone.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “But I’m here, now. And whatever it takes to keep this place in the family, I’ll do it.”

  And for the first time that night, Alberte smiled.

  Spreading his arms wide, he embraced his brother in a hug, and kissed him on one stubbled cheek.

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Silas,” Alberte breathed in his ear. “I’ve got my brother back.”

  “Yes,” Silas patted Alberte on his enormous shoulders. “I’m back. And I’m never going anywhere again.”

  Chapter Fifty Three

  Silas

  For the first time since returning to Spain, Silas walked himself to bed.

  It took a long time – painful, staggering step after painful step. He had to support himself against the wall, and on the furniture.

  But slowly, and inexorably, Silas Batras limped and staggered down the hallway, and collapsed into his bed with a smile of achievement on his broad, handsome face.

  Lyssa was following him, pushing his now redundant wheelchair in front of her.

  “Silas,” she breathed, as the big fighter flopped onto his back, gasping at the exertion. “This is amazing. I’m so happy to see you walk again.”

  Groaning, Silas struggled to sit up.

  “Lyssa,” he murmured, looking across the darkened bedroom towards her. “Lyssa, I was so scared.” He sobbed. Something utterly unexpected from such a big, tough-looking guy. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. “Oh, Lyssa… I was so fucking scared.”

  She couldn’t help herself. In two short strides, Lyssa had crossed the room, and dropped to her knees by the bed.

  She reached over to take Silas’ hands in hers, and squeezed them.

  “It’s okay,” she breathed. “This is great, Silas. This is more than great. It’s a miracle.”

  She knew that it wasn’t. Handsome Doctor Montoya had been frank with her – Silas’ injury had always shown the potential for recovery.

  But after these weeks of seeing the formerly powerful, intimidating fighter confined to a wheelchair, it sure felt like a miracle.

  “Thank you,” Silas struggled to sit up. “Thank you, thank you so fucking much.”

  And then his hands were on her cheeks, and he was leaning in to kiss her.

  At first, they were kisses of gratitude. Wet-sounding smacks on her cheeks that only incidently grazed her lips.

  But then his mouth met hers, and it was like electricity arced between them.

  Silas pulled away – still cradling her face in his big, calloused hands.

  His intense, brown eyes met hers.

  Kneeling on the hard wood floor, Lyssa returned the gaze, staring deeply into Silas’ eyes. She felt butterflies in her stomach.

  The next time he kissed her, it was straight on the mouth; and there was nothing ambiguous about it any longer.

  Chapter Fifty Four

  Lyssa

  Lyssa moaned hotly into Silas’ mouth as he kissed her.

  God, it was intoxicating. After all those weeks of reluctant abstinence – ever since Travis and Nikolai had kicked her out of their apartment – Lyssa felt almost drunk at the sensation of another man’s lips on hers.

  She reached forward, and wrapped her slender arms around Silas’ massive shoulders. She kissed him hotly, moaning into his mouth as his thick, rough tongue explored hers.

  “Oh, God,” Lyssa groaned. “W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”

  She didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe because she was there to write a story about Silas, not fuck him. Or perhaps because his family were crawling back to bed, in the rooms right above this one.

  But she needed this, nearly as much as Silas clearly did.

  As Silas’ big, rough hands slid down her back, Lyssa shuddered at the sensation. Less than an hour earlier, she’d been manhandled and fingered by that bastard Bruno Buenaventura. Letting Silas kiss her was like letting him reclaim her body from that humiliating assault.

  And as for Silas himself?

  The massive tent sticking up in the front of his pajama pants indicated that he was very into this.

  Lyssa dropped one hand, and placed it in Silas’ lap. He groaned as her fingers curled around his rigid shaft; separated from her bare skin by just a thin layer of cotton.

  “Oh, God,” Silas groaned, as she stroked him through his pajamas. “I-It’s been so long since that happened.” He moaned into her mouth. “I thought my cock was useless, just like I feared my legs were…”

  But there was nothing useless around the thick, hard shaft rearing from between Silas’ legs. Even through the plaid material of his pajama pants, it was intimidatingly thick, long and rigid.

  Lyssa slid her hands around Silas’ study waist, and then hooked her fingers into the elastic waistband of his pajama pants.

  She wrenched them down around his thighs.

  Sproing! Bouncing back and forth, freed from its cotton cage, his massive erection sprang free.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Lyssa’s eyes widened as she took it in. His cock was as thick as her wrist. Heat and musk radiated from it, and she moment she breathed in his manly scent, she flooded the crotch of her pajamas.

  Lyssa had been around the block a few times, she wasn’t going to lie – but this was still a pretty impressive slab of manhood she was slowly curling her slender fingers around.

  “Oh, fuuuck,” Silas groaned, as he felt the softness of her touch.

  “H-how long has it been?” Lyssa looked up, with her huge eyes wide. “Since you… y’know?”

  Silas grimaced. The last time had been the night of his injury – fucking Nicola Hedberg in his dressing room, seconds before stepping into the octagon.

  “A long time,” he breathed.

  Lyssa’s lips curled.

  “The same for me,” she admitted.

  And then, opening her mouth wide, she lowered her head and took his straining cock into her eager mouth.

  Chapter Fifty Five

  Silas

  “Oh, fuuuuck!”

  Silas flopped back onto the bed, as
his whole body shuddered in pleasure. The warm, wet sensation of Lyssa’s mouth on his cock was practically more than he could take.

  Fuck, it had been so long – and even when he’d last had his cock sucked, it had never been like this.

  “Mmmph,” Lyssa mumbled, looking up from between his legs with her big, wide eyes. With her cheeks swollen, and saliva drooling down her chin, she looked wildly sexy.

  “Oh, fuuuck,” Silas groaned. “Y-you’ve got to stop. It’s been so long. I’m going to explode if you keep that up.”

  And with a flirty snarl, Lyssa swirled her tongue around the head of Silas’ straining cock – and for a moment he thought she was going to deliberately tip him over the edge.

  But a moment before he involuntarily spurted into her softly sucking mouth, Lyssa lifted her head and his shaft popped from between her lips with a wet ‘smack.’

  Silas lay there gasping – his rock-hard cock rearing from between his legs, glistening with Lyssa’s saliva.

  “Don’t move,” she demanded, standing up and pulling down her pajamas.

  Silas’ eyes widened as Lyssa pulled the cotton down over her hips. She revealed her tanned, toned body – a tight, round ass, and powerful thighs, and a little triangle of trimmed pubic hair between her legs.

  It actually resembled an arrow, pointing towards her eager destination. And from the way her pubes were glistening with wetness, ‘eager’ clearly wasn’t so far from the truth.

  Biting her bottom lip, Lyssa climbed onto the bed, and straddled Silas’ muscular hips. His spit-slick cock slid between her thighs, and Silas groaned at the sensation of his throbbing cock brushing against her soft skin.

  “This is crazy,” Lyssa moaned, as she reached between them to curl her fingers around his raging erection. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  But even as she said that, she was wrestling his cock into position between her thighs.

  Silas gasped, as the head of his cock nuzzled between the lips of her wet, eager pussy.