Knockout: A Bad Boy Billionaire MMA Romance (Athletic Affairs)

by April Fire

  “Did you find it?” I asked quietly, so quietly that it took him a second to realize what I was saying. He shook his head at once.

  “No,” he admitted. That word was all I wanted to hear.

  “So, what the fuck are you doing here? I thought you weren’t about this life,” he threw his hand across the parking lot, at the people trailing in and out, some of them covered in bruises from the fights they’d just endured.

  “I’m not, but…” I trailed off. “Darius, I was just trying to convince myself that. I’ve known so many guys like you before, and every single one of them has hurt me, or fucked up, or just been an asshole…”

  “And you just assumed I was going to do the same thing?” He threw his hand in the air. “You’re not making a good case.”

  “But you’re still listening!” I countered quickly. He let his hands drop and gestured for me to continue.

  “I was wrong,” I admitted. “I…I told myself I had control of all of this, that I knew where we were going, and when I started falling for you…I lost control.”

  His eyes met mine, and I could see the flicker of a waver there, the promise that I might just be getting through to him.

  “And I broke it off because then hey, at least I was the one to call the shots,” I continued, the words tumbling out of my mouth unrestrained. I had never been this honest with anyone before, and it both terrified and invigorated me in the same breath.

  “But I don’t care about control anymore,” I promised, and I meant it. “I just want…I want you. We have something here, and I want to try it out. Even if I have to take my hands off the wheel to do it.”

  “You know, you crash when you take your hands off the wheel,” he remarked cautiously, but took a step towards me.

  “Then I’ll crash,” I replied. I found I was already leaning into him, closing the distance between us. He reached for my hand, and I let him take it.

  “Are you sure about this?” He asked gently. “Because…this is always going to be a part of my life. And I know it’s not…it’s not regular, it’s not stable--“

  “I’m a musician,” I reminded him. “I know irregular and unstable pretty well.”

  “You were great tonight,” he remarked, putting an arm around my waist. With every word that came out of his mouth, the barriers between us seemed to break down a little further. My breath came quickly, my chest heaving against his, and before I had a chance to thank him for his compliment, his lips met mine once more.

  Only a few hundred feet from where we’d first met, I reconciled with Darius for good. The kiss was almost cathartic, a release of everything I’d built up over the last few days since our separation. And I knew it was right. It wasn’t going to be easy -- no, that wasn’t true. Things between Darius and I were always going to be easy. It was just life that got in the way. And I wouldn’t let it get away with that ever again.

  We pulled away from the kiss, and found that the taxi was waiting for us. I blinked for a moment, still staring up at him, and he rubbed his nose against mine.

  Epilogue

  “Come on, wifey,” he teased. “Let’s go home.”

  “Happily,” I sighed. It had been a long night- I’d played a gig with the Roses before I’d come out to see him fight. I was well-known around the boxing scene now, and I was usually ushered right to the front of the crowd so I could watch my man win. He hadn’t lost a match that I’d attended, and now he practically insisted that I turn out every time.

  It was sweet, I had to admit. And I was getting used to the adrenalin, the sticky floors and the cheap beers. Hell, he put up with the same from my side whenever he came out to a gig so I could hardly complain.

  “Your place or mine?” He joked as we climbed into the back of the cab; the driver shot us a hard look, and I rolled my eyes at Darius and gave the driver our address.

  Our address- it still felt so odd saying that. We’d only moved in a month ago, once we’d both managed to pack up all our boxes and sort out moving vans. I loved our place- it was tiny, yeah, but it was ours. We’d been able to quit our work at Dino’s as the music stuff picked up my end and I was able to cover my half of the rent,

  The Roses had released a new album and, while I didn’t have much input on the music, I still got to play on the recordings. I had a copy tucked into my bedside drawer, and I took it out just to look at once in a while, to convince myself it was all real.

  Darius, on the other hand, had been picked up by a new coach and he was fighting better than he ever had in his life. He was rising through the ranks, and it looked like soon he might be able to break into the mainstream boxing world. We were both teetering on the brink of notoriety, and it felt incredible. Dizzying.

  Darius reached over and tucked his hand between my legs- I turned to him and raised my eyebrows, and he shot me a filthy look back. I knew exactly what he was promising, and, if it hadn’t been for the driver, I wouldn’t have waited till we were home to enjoy it. I turned to look out the window, and pressed my face to the glass. The coolness against my forehead contrasted with the heat of his hand on my thigh, and I smiled.

  Six months ago, I wouldn’t have thought any of this was possible. I would have told anyone who promised me that I would have an awesome live-in boyfriend, a job I loved, and success in a career I had all but given up on to fuck themselves for getting my hopes up.

  But here I was. I had made it. I still had a long way to go- didn’t we all -- but I was finally on a road that seemed to lead to happiness. And it felt better than I ever could have dreamed.

  The End

  Sexy Secrets:

  Diner Delight

  Chapter 1

  I was at work when I first met him…

  I waitressed a couple of days a week at the restaurant my husband, Mike, managed. We were both part-timers, working on getting our Master’s Degrees at the university nearby. The place was nothing fancy, just a simple little diner close to the beach, where waitresses wore those old-fashioned uniforms that make them look like a cross between a maid and a stripper. Mine was pink, and short as hell, but I didn’t mind; I liked showing off my legs and ass in that tight little outfit. It definitely boosted my tips, and the big, buff guys from the gym next-door certainly loved it.

  They would come in hungry right after their heavy workouts, covered in sweat and showing off their muscles in barely-there shirts. I watched from a distance as they devoured whatever large, meaty plate was in front of them. They tore into their food with such savage masculinity — it was mesmerizing. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I didn’t trust myself around them, and stayed far away from their tables. What if I jumped on one of them simply because I couldn’t hold myself back any longer? The sight of all those rippling muscles really got my juices flowing, and I feared the impulse to rip off my clothes and crawl across their table like some horny animal might become too much for me.

  That’s when I would disappear into the ladies room for a few minutes, to relieve myself. No, not to pee, just to take the edge off. On days like today I practically ran to the bathroom. Fortunately, it was empty. I locked the door and tugged on the handle, making sure that it wouldn’t budge.

  I gave the fingers of my right hand a quick lick and reached under my skirt. I was wearing thigh-highs under my uniform, which gave me easy access to my panties. With one swift move of my left hand, I pulled the thin, moist fabric aside. I cupped myself with my right hand and felt the heat oozing out of me. I carefully parted my lips and rubbed my clit for a few seconds, before pushing a finger inside. It slid in easily. I was always pretty wet by this point — I only ran to the ladies room when I was about to burst, at which point I was already dripping wet. The knuckles of my non-probing fingers pressed against the bottom of my ass, stopping me from pushing deeper.

  I fingered myself for a few minutes, exploring and feeling myself from the inside. Eventually, I pulled my finger out. I had to — it was the only way I could taste myself. My pussy ached with emptiness, b
ut the need to taste myself was too strong to ignore. I loved it. Whether it was on my fingers or my husband’s cock, my taste and scent drove me crazy. An old girlfriend from my ‘experimental’ college days introduced me to this wonderful sensation. She would go down on me, shove her fingers inside of me and then put them in my mouth. It was strange at first, but I quickly grew to crave it. The best part was at the end when she’d kiss me, rubbing her wet lips on mine, letting my own juices flow into my mouth. Long story short, I loved it - I loved how I tasted when I was so completely turned on.

  I leaned over the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. I liked what I saw: a horny woman with crazed excitement in her eyes. I opened my mouth and, ever so gently, licked the tip of my finger. I started slowly, savoring every drop of my own juice, but after that short, innocent lick I took my whole middle finger into my mouth. My pace became more urgent, and pretty soon I was licking and sucking my entire right hand. I imagined myself sucking on a big, beautiful cock. It didn’t even have a man attached to it, it was just a piece of deliciously gorgeous meat — irresistible. I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. I wet the fingers of my left hand and shoved them inside myself, while my right hand gently started playing with my clit. I gradually began to increase the pressure on my button as my fingers started sliding across it more vigorously.

  I turned around and put my ass on the sink, the cold porcelain sending shivers through the meat of my cheeks. I put my whole weight on the sink as I spread my legs wide and kept pleasuring myself with both hands. My legs tensed as I braced myself for an oncoming climax. There was a long mirror across from the sink, allowing me a full-access view as an unstoppable drive toward release took over my whole being. I watched myself in the mirror as my muscles flexed and my legs trembled. A tidal wave of bliss washed over me. I loved watching myself cum, but then again, there wasn’t anything that had to do with sex that I didn’t love.

  Chapter 2

  Saturday afternoon found me, as usual, busy at the diner taking care of a handful of tables. Nothing exciting had happened all day, and none of my regular, sexy meat-heads had been in yet to keep me entertained. It looked like a particularly boring day until a handsome stranger walked through the door and grabbed my attention.

  I was in the middle of taking orders from a party of six, but I still managed to get a good look at him in between scribbling orders for chili-cheese fries and bacon burgers. I’d never seen him before, but that didn’t mean much, given that we always had a lot of tourists stopping in for lunch on their way to the beach. Something about this guy really captured my attention. He didn’t have striking good looks or the rippling muscles of my usual eye-candy — he was more on the cute side, but he did have a nice, athletic build.

  He stood about 5 inches taller than me, had playful, gray eyes and full lips that I desperately wanted to bite. He didn’t look like a tourist; instead of their typical attire of flip-flops, baggy shorts and a faded t-shirt, he wore dark jeans and a button-down shirt. His light brown hair was a curly, tussled mass, slightly damp along the hairline, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. I guessed that he had just come from the gym, but unlike my usual customers, he had the decency to wash the sweat off of himself before coming to a place where people eat.

  He walked past me and headed straight to the back of the restaurant. That was Christie’s section, my waifish, blond co-worker. I inhaled his scent as he passed — soap! He had definitely just gotten out of the shower. Even if this guy was only going to play the lead in my erotic fantasy, it was nice that he smelled good. I had been needing a change of scenery, I was starting to get tired of getting myself off with thoughts of the same, sweaty, muscle-bound numbskulls.

  As a married woman, one might ask why did I need all this fantasy? Yes, I had a husband, a loving, perfectly amazing husband, but between working at the restaurant and going to Graduate School, he was under a lot of stress, and was rarely in the mood to play with me. On top of that, we had been fighting recently, about that very thing.

  I had been trying my best for months now to seduce him but, so far, I’d failed. It didn’t make any sense; other men wanted me, my professors at the university wanted me. Hell, even some women wanted me. But the one person who I really wanted to feel between my legs, the one who had put a ring on my finger a few years back, the one I promised to spend the rest of my life with — I couldn’t get him naked to save my life. I wasn’t used to rejection and this sexual dry-patch hurt my pride immensely.

  I finished up with the table of six and eagerly headed toward the stranger, but Christie was already at his table and had just started writing down his order. Damn, I thought, too late to ask her to let me have him. I watched his tasty lips move as he ordered his meal, and imagined what they would feel like pressed against mine. I started to get hot and rushed back to my station and poured myself a glass of ice water. I had to chug half a glass down just to get my head straight, and I sipped on the rest every time I glanced at the sexy stranger. I had to find a way to manage my restlessness — I couldn’t keep disappearing into the bathroom every time a hot guy walked through the front door.

  My head was racing with thoughts of naked flesh and moist lips. I started making mistakes at my tables: taking the wrong food out, forgetting to refill drinks. I even spilled an order of hot fries on an old man’s lap. I couldn’t stop thinking about sex, and was lost in fantasy when Christie plunked down a large glass of freshly poured iced tea in front of me.

  “Can you take this refill to table four?” she asked, “I need to step out and take a call.” I nodded, grabbed the glass, and headed for table four, which was in the back. It didn’t hit me immediately, but I soon realized I was headed straight for my tempting stranger.

  I did my best to walk as casually as I could, and fought every urge to act seductively. My husband was busy in the kitchen, but the last thing I wanted was for him to come out and see me drooling all over a customer — that would be more than a bit awkward. Embarrassing for him, too, if anyone else noticed.

  “Hi. Here’s your iced tea, sir,” I said as I placed the glass on the table. He reached for it before I could let go, and his hand brushed against mine. As soon as our skin touched, I felt a cold jolt of electricity shoot through me. I quickly withdrew my hand and looked away, hoping he didn’t see the excitement in my eyes.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  “It’s no problem; I’m just a bit… jumpy,” I replied. “Always been this way.” I certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth about what his touch did to me. One thing was for sure, it was definitely time for me to run to the bathroom for a bit.

  I turned around and walked away, shaking my hips just a little. I knew his eyes were on my ass — guys always stared at my ass; it just had that effect on them. The only guy who didn’t stare at my it was my husband, the person whose attention I really craved. He used to always joke that my ass was the first thing he noticed about me when we first met.

  I looked toward the kitchen and saw Christie come back on the floor. I waved and pointed toward the bathroom. She knew it meant to cover for me, since we always helped each other out like that.

  I practically ran, slamming the bathroom door shut behind me. I stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were wild and filled with lust. My hand had already reached up my skirt. I can get off once, real quick, I thought. That should lessen the tension, at least until I could get home and finally get my husband to take off his damn clothes and give me what I’ve been craving.

  My fingers wiggled deep inside of me, moving in and out at a furious pace as I imagined the stranger kissing me, sucking on my nipples, and pressing his hard cock against my ass. I put my fingers in my mouth and sucked on them as hard as I could. I turned around to look at myself in the full-length mirror, but instead of my reflection, I saw the handsome stranger standing in the doorway. How long had he been there?

  In my urgency to get off I had forgotten to lock the damn door. What the fuck was he doing co
ming into the ladies room? I looked around, one hand still under my skirt, and saw a dirty urinal. “Oh shit,” I gasped, “this is the men’s room!”

  He must think I’m some kind of nymphomaniac, I thought as I slowly pulled my hand out from between my legs.

  “May I come in?” he asked with a glint in his eyes. I said nothing, and he took a step toward me, letting the door close behind him. He looked calm, not the slightest bit fazed by my lurid behavior.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “but this is all your fault. I couldn’t help myself after your hand…”

  “Touched mine?” He finished my sentence, stepping closer to me. “So, how can we fix this… predicament?” he asked, moving still closer. “Any thoughts?” he whispered as he leaned in, his lips floating only inches from mine.

  “Let me see…” I uttered as he gently kissed the delicate skin below my jaw. His hand rubbed across my nipple through my uniform’s thin material. The heat from his hand flowed into my breast.

  “May I… get a taste?” He looked at me with eyes full of hunger. It was the same look that my famished, muscle-born meat-heads had in their eyes when I plopped a juicy steak in front of them. He knew where my hands had just been and knew what they tasted of.

  I took two of my fingers and brought them up to his face. He ran his tongue along their length, licking off all of my juice, before taking them both into his mouth. He wrapped his lips around them and sucked hard, desperate for more of my essence. I couldn’t let him have all of it, I had to get some for myself, so I kissed him while he was still sucking on my hand.