Brawler

by K. S. Adkins

  “Oh shit,” I say, excited. “It’s the Kill Switch Engage concert, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” she giggles. “Is that a yes?”

  “That’s a fuck yes,” I tell her. “Been trying to get my partner to go, but you know how he is.”

  “Doors open at seven, so how about we grab a bite, then head over, and maybe we can hit Lush after?”

  “Princess,” I tell her, kissing her nose. “You read my mind.”

  “Oh, and Jonas?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When we get home tonight?” she starts. “You’re going to show me how you want to make love to me.” Pulling away, she runs her hands over her perfect tits down to her perfect stomach, then levels me with, “In detail.” on her way out of the room.

  Challenge accepted.

  The rest of the afternoon she studies, fields calls, and prepares her program for the board. There is nothing fucking hotter than a smart female. When she’s focused, she is focused. I’ve had that focus on me. It’s intense, it’s a privilege, and it’s fucking mine because she loves me.

  We grab a bite then walk over to the Filmore. She not only scored main floor tickets, she scored side stage main floor tickets. Her excitement is a living thing, my woman loves being out and being social like I do. The concert hasn’t even started yet and she’s already made friends with the metal heads around us, even helping one guy who fell and bloodied his nose. The scene is electric; the people here can’t wait for shit to start. The vibe reminds me of how the crowd gets before Venessa takes the platform at Lush.

  Watching her work the crowd has me hard for her. She straightened her hair, put very little makeup on because she doesn’t need it, but put on the tightest fucking pants I have ever seen, along with a strappy top which I’m positive she went braless to wear. Did I mention she’s wearing combat boots? Fuck, that’s hot. Boots plus tits has my cock pulsing. Macy has tits, as in full, heavy tits. They aren’t huge, but they are full as fuck. The fact she can go braless gets me even harder. Add to that the thought of having her in only those boots has me turning away to rub my cock. When I turn back, she’s talking to a stagehand; he leans in to ask her something, but she laughs shaking, her head no. I ask what he said that was so funny, and she said she was asked to join the band backstage. She thought it was hilarious; I thought of snapping the guys neck. Taking my hand she pulls me to her, puts her hands in my hair and pulls my head down to hers, and fucks my mouth hard. The crowd cheers, assholes are patting my back, but still she fucks my mouth.

  Suddenly the lights go dim and all hell breaks loose. Macy starts jumping up and down. The crowd becomes a living, breathing hurricane getting both of us caught up in it. Macy is grabbed, pulled, and pretty much fondled, but doesn’t seem to notice or care. Fuck that, I notice and I care. Her back is still sore even though she swears it isn’t. I watch her flinch sometimes. When the lead singer finds her in the crowd and connects with her, my entire body tightens up. She’s thrashing, enjoying the music, not even getting the vibe from the dick on stage. He crooks his finger at her and confused, she turns in a circle to look at who has his attention but when she realizes it’s her, she grabs my hand moving away from the stage and his eyes.

  The track changes to one I don’t know, but she does, and then the night goes from bad to worse. She’s pulled away from me into a pit and I can’t fucking get to her. Trying to remember most of these guys are kids I make an effort not to kill anyone until I see a giant trying to pick her up. Putting her hands up in an act of submission the giant smiles, charging her, greedy to get his hands on her. Pushing through the final cluster to grab her she looks over, sees me, turns back to the giant and smiles. Oh shit, shit, shit …

  The giant lifts her up under her arms and tosses her on top of an equally greedy crowd, and that’s when I lose sight of her and lose my shit. Stalking the giant, I double-tap him, and down he goes. The crowd loves it, secretly even I love it, but I love her more and can’t find her. I’m a tall guy, but it’s fucking dark and small in here, and it’s impossible to locate her. Glancing toward the stage I notice the lead singers eyes following something, no, fuck that, someone. He’s watching my woman. When I lock onto her she’s handed over the rail into the arms of security and I lose her again.

  That’s when it hits me, a full on panic attack. I can’t breathe, the crowd is too close, and my ears are ringing. Grabbing my chest, it feels like my heart is going to explode until I feel her latch on to me. Turning around, I secure her to me. I take her mouth, fuse it to mine, and proceed to claim her on the main floor of the Filmore in front of a screaming crowd of thousands. We’re pushed and stepped on, but we never stop. When we break apart we’re both struggling to breathe. Having her close to me now the panic lessens some, but not completely. I need to get out of here.

  Looking into her eyes I ask her, “Had enough?” Then she smiles, letting me know it’s safe to go. As she takes my hand to lead me out, I glance back at the stage to see the lead singer still watching her. When his eyes meet mine I give him a nod, showing him who’s got the girl, then proceed to flip the fucker off and follow my woman out the door.

  Clearing the doors we step outside and it’s cold, though neither of us notices or cares. She jumps up on me, wrapping her legs around me, attacking my mouth again. Moaning, pulling my hair, and sucking my tongue has my cock ready to explode. She breaks away first. I ease her down and she whispers, “Let’s go to Lush so you can get me home.”

  “Thank fuck,” I growl grabbing her ass.

  “Jonas,” she says, turning my face to hers. “Is it better now?”

  “Is what better?”

  “You had a panic attack, didn’t you?”

  Embarrassed, I mutter, “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I should have known better.”

  “Wasn’t your fault,” I tell her. “Sometimes it just happens. When you found me, it got better.”

  “I made it better?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So I’m better than medicine?”

  “Princess,” I say, pulling her to me. “You’re the only medicine I’ll ever need; I’m hooked on your kind of medicine.”

  Opening her door, I help her into my truck, then once I’m seated, she leans over and undoes me.

  “When we get home, I’m yours. Any way you want me, I am yours.” Then she sits back and smiles, satisfied with herself.

  I make it to Lush in under three minutes.

  There have been very few times in my life that I’ve felt content. Oddly enough, riding high on adrenaline and aching for Jonas, this is one of those times. Losing me in the crowd was hard for him, I could feel it. He handled it well, in my opinion. I was, too, until the lead singer kept staring at me. That I didn’t like, so I grabbed ahold of Jonas to anchor me, and it did. Crowd surfing is a riot, it’s unpredictable, and should you get dropped on your head, fairly stupid. The second I cleared the rail I ran around to the door to get back to him. Pushing my way through, I almost tripped over the big guy who lifted me up and sacrificed me to the crowd. Seeing him unconscious had me wanting to get him help even at the risk of being trampled. Instead of helping as I’m prone to do, I jumped over him to get back to where I belong.

  The moment I touched him, he claimed me in front of everyone. It was so hot and possessive, we needed to leave before I fucked him on the floor of the Filmore. Once we got outside, I couldn’t take it then, either, and went for round two. Now in his truck, I remind him of what’s coming when we get home. Truth? I can hardly wait. I promise myself I’ll be patient and make it good for him. This need I’ve had for months feels like it’s been building forever.

  Making it to Lush in record time, he opens my door, hauls me out, grabs ahold of my ass, and pushes me into the side of his truck. In my ear he moans his promises, and Jonas never lies, this I know about him. So wet I can hardly take it, I grab the bulge of his jeans and guide him to the back door.

  Veneesa, aka Kharma, has the
club in kill mode. To say she has skills is an understatement. Rogan is her sentinel, keeping her from harm. He nods to us while Jonas scans the place, getting us a table close to the platform. Max comes over for a hug and a handshake, then leaves to do what he does. I look around for Tony, but for the first time in well … ever, his booth is empty. Jonas abandons his chair in favor of standing behind me while I dance in my seat to the Busta Rhymes remix Venessa is currently playing. The place is packed, drinks are flowing, and I’m counting down the minutes until we can leave. Jonas is playing with my hair, rubbing my lower back seductively, and letting his hands roam when suddenly they aren’t. Looking over my shoulder to him, I see his jaw is clenched. Turning back around, I see the reason why.

  “Rafe,” says a very tall and very skanky woman who needs to stop spray tanning and grab a breath mint. “You going to introduce us?”

  “No,” he says simply. “Why would I? You don’t matter.”

  “Is that any way to treat an old friend.” she gives the hint and it was received, and here come the claws.

  “Fuck off, Chyna.”

  “Chyna?” I ask.

  “You got a problem with my name?” she snaps at me.

  “Not at all,” I reply sweetly. “I think it’s great that your parents were creative. I’m Macy Kowalski.”

  “Chyna Townsend,” she says, rolling her eyes at me and still not willing to leave.

  Jonas barks out a laugh while I cross my legs, trying not to piss myself. Is this chick for real? Her parents weren’t creative, they were cruel. “Well, Chyna,” I say, fighting it back. “It was nice to meet you, but we were just leaving.”

  “Yeah?” she questions. “You with her now, Rafe?”

  “Was never with you,” he growls. “Now fuck off.”

  Sensing he is about to lose it, also sensing she is about to take this someplace it need not go, I throw out the excuse I have to use the restroom out so he can grab our stuff and I can cool off before I fucking kill her. He leaves to give our goodbyes; heading to the back to use the restroom, I smile and wave to Venessa. Both of us effectively dismissing the skank.

  Walking through the door, I hold it open for whoever is behind me. Turning to make sure it’s clear, I see it’s Chyna fucking Townsend.

  “You fucking him yet?” she throws out at me, like it’s no big deal to throw shit out there like that.

  “Excuse me?” I ask, clearly shocked at the size of her balls and willingness to have them crushed.

  “No disrespect, but you’re hot. There’s no way you’re fucking him yet, or you wouldn’t be here with him now.” She laughs at herself.

  “I’m not following, Chyna,” I tell her, getting agitated. Whatever comes out of that mouth next will make or break her, I guarantee it.

  “Trust me, doll.” She smirks. “Once is enough. If it even gets that far, which it probably won’t, but a piece of advice? Don’t let him use his mouth to talk.” Still laughing at herself and looking at the other women in the bathroom for support, she isn’t finished. “Don’t look so pissed. I wish someone would have saved me the nightmare. I wasted weeks on him. That body is tight but the rest of him? Hot mess. It’s too bad he isn’t mute, otherwise he’d be perfect, ya know? Trust me, I’m doing you a favor, one chick to anoth —”

  Every woman has a line. Until the day I met Jonas I’d have told you that line was Venessa. You never want to cross that line because when it comes to her, I’d do anything. Nothing can prepare you for love, though. That line someone crosses at the expense of the man you love is a thin one. You shouldn’t even step near it, let alone cross it. Chyna fucking Townsend is about to learn a valuable lesson.

  You don’t fuck with me when it comes to Jonas.

  With Venessa setting up her next set with Cory and Blu, Rogan hops down to come and talk to me. I’m in the middle of telling him about the night so far and watching him laugh at my expense. Just as I’m filling him in on my current situation with a smile on my face, that’s when I hear screaming and see chicks flying out of the bathroom.

  Oh fuck me. The bathroom. Macy is in the bathroom.

  I look at Rogan who looks to Venessa; in synch, we all mouth “Macy” and bust ass over to where she is. Pushing through all I can hear is screaming and the distinct sound of someone getting hit, a lot. Moving around Rogan he puts an arm up, holding me back. Venessa moves up to my, left ducking under my arm to stand in front of me. Venessa starts laughing and cheering, Rogan is smiling, and me? Yeah, well, I’m standing there with my mouth open.

  My woman is not saying a word; she ain’t breathing heavy, but she also ain’t stopping. What she is doing is holding Chyna up with her left arm while beating her face in with her right. Barely conscious, Chyna isn’t screaming anymore, thank god, but she has no ability to fight back, either. Macy, not caring that she’s done, keeps landing blows all over her face. Face gushing, eyes swollen, and lips busted wide, I have to admit watching her fight is pretty hot. Chyna’s face, while never hot to begin with, had a mouth she used only to insult people. Still, I can’t help but be seriously turned out that my woman is beating this bitch’s ass on my behalf. A bitch who was a complete cunt to me for no other reason than she could.

  When her knees finally buckle and she’s out cold, Macy releases her, letting her face meet the sink on her way down. Not caring she had an audience she turns on the sink, washes then dries her hands, and then walks over to us like that didn’t just happen.

  Venessa laughs and bumps fists, Rogan shakes his head muttering something about it being the quiet one, and I stand there silent. Chyna seemed like a decent chick until I went home with her after weeks of her begging me to fuck her. The second we got to her place, it was awful. Her breath was foul, her vocabulary was at a fifth-grade level, and she was too fucking aggressive for my taste. I couldn’t even kiss, her let alone fuck her. She tried talking filthy, but my dick wasn’t having it. Standing there naked with a willing chick, my dick would not get hard. After I left her place, my cock and I had a long talk. Turns out it’s picky.

  When the bathroom clears and it’s just the two of us, she walks up to me putting her arms around my neck, then pulls me down to kiss her. Enjoying the moment, I walk her back to the nearest wall, making my way to her neck. Looking over her shoulder, I can see not only is Chyna out cold, she’s in pretty bad shape, but the bitch is also not my problem.

  Lifting up her chin she looks up at me and smiles, so I take this as a safe time to ask her what the fuck had happened. Kissing me softly on the lips, then turning to walk out and taking my hand to follow, she shrugs and says, “Girl talk.”

  I’ve known Jonas for several months now, and it’s not too often I can’t read him. Driving back to his place he’s quiet, which alone freaks me out, because Jonas is never quiet. Is he upset with me? If I thought he had feelings for Chyna I’d bet he’s pissed, but he seemed as disgusted with her as I was.

  Pulling up in the driveway he opens my door as always, walks us inside, then leaves me in the entry and heads to the kitchen. Now I don’t know what to do because I thought what I had just done was the right thing. Feeling uncertain, I leave my shoes and coat on but sit on the couch, waiting to get the talk. You know the talk, I really like you but you’re psycho, so I think it’s best you get the fuck out talk.

  Jonas walking in with a bag of ice, wasn’t what I was expecting, at all. Sitting next to me, he takes my shoes and coat off, then takes my right hand, placing the ice on it, but doesn’t say a word. Let the record show, I do not like it when he’s quiet, so as my nerves got to me I cracked under the pressure.

  “I’m sorry, Jonas,” I whisper staring at my lap.

  “What are you sorry for, exactly?” he asks, and I see he’s going to make me work for it.

  “For hurting Chyna,” I whisper back. “I’m not used to feeling jealous. I uh, don’t think I handled it well.”

  “Fuck Chyna.”

  “What?” I ask, looking up.

  “I said,
fuck Chyna,” he repeats. “Like I give a fuck about her?”

  “I don’t know what you give a fuck about, I just —”

  “I give a fuck about you, Princess,” he says, in a dark voice I’ve never heard. “You wouldn’t put your hands on someone who didn’t deserve it, so what the fuck did she say to provoke you?”

  Silence. It’s all I’ve got. What happened in that bathroom needs to stay there. I don’t know want to hurt him, and if I repeat it, it will. How could it not?

  “Okay,” he starts. “Let me guess, she had some shit to say about me?”

  Again, I can’t do it, so I keep my mouth closed.

  “I know she did, Princess,” he says simply. “How ̓bout I give you my side of things. Then maybe you won’t feel so guilty. Despite my better judgment, I attempted to hook up with her, right, except I couldn’t get hard for her. When she wasn’t getting what she wanted she started running her mouth, which pissed me off. She wouldn’t give up on trying to get off, and the more she talked the worse it got. I tried getting on board with it, I’m a guy, but you know what happens when I talk. Needless to say, I got my shit and left. I also expect she didn’t like that much, based on the shit she said as I was walking out the door.”

  “I don’t feel guilty,” I say, pissed off. “The last thing I feel is guilt. I’d have rather you not witnessed it, but there’s no guilt there. No one gets to speak ill of you, ever. No one fucks with the people I love, but especially not you.”

  “Then what’s all this about, then?”

  “I thought you were mad at me, that you were done with me, and I worried you thought I was psycho,” I whisper.

  “Princess,” he says with love. “You beat down a woman in the bathroom who talked shit about me. If I didn’t love you before, that would have sealed the deal.”

  “Really?” I ask with hope. “Because she’s probably still there. I can go back and finish —”