She looked up into his eyes. They were hot with arousal and so deep she wanted to drown in them. “I need you inside me, Nick.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared down at her. A myriad of emotions played over his face: lust, need, anger, love, tenderness. There were too damn many to take them apart and examine individually.
“Please,” she said when the tension between them became too much.
“Take off your panties.”
Her whole body pulsed at his words. His jaw had clenched again, and she knew that look. It was the look of determination he got when he’d made up his mind about something. It sent a thrill of fierce arousal and excitement through her. She moved fast just in case he changed his mind and decided to call the game—whatever game they were playing—off.
“Sit on the desk.”
When a wicked smile curved his lips, she knew she wouldn’t do anything other than what he wanted. She’d forgotten how she loved this. Not just the sex, but the way he made her trust him. The way she opened herself up to him, throwing away all caution.
Some of the proofs fluttered to the floor when she pushed them out of the way, flapping softly in the silence of her office. She perched on the edge of the desk, now at a level to reach out and stroke him. His cock looked so hard and thick beneath his jeans that she wanted to touch it. So she tried, but he shook his head and took a step backward, falling into her chair. He had to adjust himself in his jeans to accommodate the change of position. God, she wanted to see his gorgeous cock again. Touch it. Taste it. Feel every delicious inch of it inside her.
He pushed with his feet and the chair rolled forward, but he didn’t touch her. “Spread your legs.” The determination in his voice combined with the intensity of his dark eyes made her entire body tremble.
She was too turned on by him taking control to do anything but obey. She should’ve been embarrassed or at least concerned that someone might find them like this, but her entire world was consumed with Nick. Lying back on her elbows, she raised first one foot and then the other until her heels were pressed against the edge of the desk and spread her knees spread wide, revealing herself to him.
The chair rolled forward, and his hot gaze narrowed in on her pussy. Licking his lips, he brought a finger up and sucked it into his mouth. The sight alone had her pussy pulsing in time with her heart, anxious for him to touch her again, maybe even taste her. Slowly, he trailed that finger down her slit, teasing her. She jumped at the touch, craving even more, but he paused and met her eyes, his expression serious. “I’m not going to fuck you today.”
She didn’t have time to process his words before his mouth closed over her. She cried out, remembering too late that she was supposed to keep quiet. His tongue circled around her clit, teasing her with gentle strokes, before brushing across her swollen flesh, causing her back to arch up off the desk as she ground herself against his mouth. Her head fell back as she stifled another cry, biting her lip to keep it inside. His tongue trailed lower to dip into her.
“Fuck, Jules. You taste as good as I remember.” His voice was a breathy growl against her swollen pussy. His hands went to her knees, pushing them back, spreading her open even further for him. Then his mouth was on her again. His tongue swirled around her clit, alternating between gentle laving and harsh sucking. Her muscles clenched, desperate for something to fill the ache deep inside.
“Please, more. I need more.”
He let go of one knee, though he kept his mouth on her, and circled her drenched entrance with two fingers. Slowly he pushed one inside her, stretching her, before following it with the second one. It wasn’t nearly as much as she wanted, but it was enough, especially when he curled them upward and stroked them in and out. She moved her hips restlessly as everything inside her coiled and tightened. His hand pumped against her, driving his fingers into her in a hard, steady rhythm. She grabbed his head, her fingers sinking into his hair. She needed something to hold on to, something to anchor her. His name spilled from her lips in a breathless tumble.
He let go of her other leg, draping it over his shoulder so that his soft hair brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and moved his hand up her body. He palmed her breast through her shirt and bra, then dragged his thumb over her beaded nipple. She jerked beneath him at the fierce dart of pleasure that shot through her. Her orgasm was so close, the first wave nearly cresting over her. It hovered there, just out of reach.
“Come for me, baby. Come on my tongue. Let me taste how good I make you feel.” He pinched her nipple in a rhythm that matched her frantic heartbeat, hard enough to be almost too much. But it was just right, because he knew exactly how to touch her.
She wasn’t sure if it was his touch, his mouth, or his filthy words that sent her over the edge, but her legs shook as her orgasm exploded through her. It pulsed through her in wave after wave of consuming pleasure that refused to let her go. He kept kissing her, licking her and sucking, his groan of approval vibrating across her swollen clit. And she just kept coming, as though her body had been storing up these orgasms just for Nick. The waves crashed over her until she wasn’t sure how long she’d been drowning in how good he made her feel. She was limp and sated when the spasms finally faded away. He rose and leaned over her, cocky smile firmly in place. She smiled back, because he deserved it, and because she’d never seen a sight as gorgeous as the way he was looking down at her, his hair disheveled from her hands, his eyes bright with need. His gaze raked over her face with a look so full of adoration that it took her breath away. Before she could say anything, he leaned down and kissed her, hard. She tasted herself on his tongue as it tangled with hers. Then he pulled back and stood up straight, adjusting his jeans again. Slowly and deliberately, he rubbed his hand over his mouth, wiping away her come in what could’ve been an obscene gesture, but it only turned her on all over again. And she knew she wasn’t finished. Despite what he’d said, she wanted to fuck him, to come on his cock. To be his again, and to let him in.
He stood between her thighs, and it would’ve been so easy to unbutton his jeans and pull down his zipper. She was so wet that he’d fill her up with one thrust. It would only take a few more to have her coming again. She reached for the button on his jeans, but he grabbed her wrists and pressed them down on the desk on either side of her head.
“Nick, I—” He cut her off with another hard kiss, stealing her breath and shutting down her brain.
His eyes were dark and his jaw tight when he pulled away. “You want this just as much as I do. Admit it. Say yes to us, Jules. I’m not playing games anymore. I can’t.”
She frowned slightly and opened her mouth, but he released one of her wrists and pressed a finger to her lips, shaking his head slowly. “Think it over. You know where to find me.” Without another word, he walked out of her office, the door latching softly behind him.
The back of her head thudded against the desk as she closed her eyes. What the hell had just happened?
12
Come for me, baby. Come on my tongue. Let me taste how good I make you feel.
The words he’d said to Jules less than three hours before seared through Nick’s brain, and it didn’t matter how many times he tried to push them away or block them out; they were still there, hot and filthy, wrong in all the best ways. The sight of Jules looking up at him flashed through his mind; her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, her skirt around her waist, looking so gorgeous in the aftermath of the orgasm he’d given her that he almost couldn’t breathe.
Given their history, maybe it shouldn’t have happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He’d never regret making her feel good, never regret being honest about what he wanted, especially because he knew it was what they both wanted. She’d been the one to kiss him, and he knew that meant something. Those walls were coming down, and damn did he like that idea.
You want this just as much as I do. Admi
t it. Say yes to us, Jules. I’m not playing games.
Nick’s back slammed into the mat and all the air whooshed out of his lungs. His heart thudding in his chest, he let out a grunt and scooted his hips away before his trainer could climb onto him. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to soothe his screaming lungs, and surged back to his feet. Sweat dripped down his face, and his T-shirt was soaked, clinging to his back.
“Good, Giannakis, but your take down defense is the worst part of your game. Considering you’ll be up against at least one Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu specialist, it’s what we need to work on,” said Omar. “Let’s go again, and work through what you’ve got, starting with single-leg counters.”
Nick nodded and bounced on the balls of his bare feet a couple of times. Shit, he’d completely lost focus, caught up in thoughts of Jules. With one of the biggest fights of his career coming up, he couldn’t afford any lapses. He shook his head, bringing his attention back to the present.
Although it hadn’t been long, he liked working with Omar and the rest of his team at the WFC. The organization operated differently than other fight promotions out there, and Nick was still adjusting to the change. Typically a fighter was responsible for his own training, and could work with whatever set of coaches he wanted as long as he could afford it. Fighters paid anywhere from a few hundred to a couple thousand dollars a month to train depending on where, with whom, and how serious they were. Back in Chicago, Nick had picked up shifts at his family’s restaurant when he needed extra cash to supplement the income from his sponsorships. It was a lean life, and the fact that the WFC was providing a top-notch trainer for him free of charge had been a big part of the league’s appeal.
Paying for training was a financial burden for just about every fighter, and one that Craig Darcy was aware of, which was why ranked and high-profile fighters in the WFC were offered the opportunity to train at the WFC gym with WFC-selected trainers. The idea was to take some of the financial pressure off to allow fighters to really focus on training, and he respected Darcy for recognizing and doing something to address one of the biggest hardships and barriers in the sport. From what Nick had heard, it was also part of Darcy’s plan to gain legitimacy for the sport—no other professional athletes had to pay for their own training, so why should MMA fighters? Despite how he felt about Darcy and how he treated Jules, Nick had to admire the man’s attempt to take the sport he loved to the next level.
Omar ducked down and wrapped his arms around Nick’s left leg, lifting it about a foot off the ground. Nick maintained his balance, hopping on his right foot. He leaned forward and slipped his right arm between Omar’s legs, tossing him off easily.
“Better,” said Omar, circling back around him, nodding at Nick. “Again.”
For once, Nick was actually looking forward to the ice bath that would follow this training session, knowing his aching, exhausted muscles would need all the help they could get repairing themselves before his next training session.
“Great workout, Nick,” Omar said after fifteen more minutes of take down defense, clapping him on the shoulder. “Finish up with five minutes of jump rope and then stretch it out. I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest, brother.”
Nick smiled and nodded at Omar, taking a long pull on his bottle of water, and then dumping the last bit over his head. Hopefully that ice bath would do something to kill the half erection he was still sporting. At this point, his balls were so blue they were starting to resemble Smurfs.
He couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at how easily she’d come for him. He’d wanted to bury himself inside her so bad after she came, but he wasn’t going to have casual, meaningless sex with Jules. Not only was that the opposite of what he wanted but he was pretty sure that once—if—he got back inside her, it’d be pretty fucking far from casual and meaningless.
From day one, it had never been just sex between them, and it couldn’t be just sex now. So he’d laid it out, and either she was his in every sense of the word or she wasn’t. It was a risk, but he liked the simple, black-and-whiteness of it all.
With Jules he knew that if she let him in, they could have everything. It was a big if. She was stubborn and scared, not to mention carrying around an airliner’s worth of baggage, but he knew what they could be if she only gave them a chance. She—they—were worth fighting for.
But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that a part of him was worried she wouldn’t say yes, and it would suck royally if it went down that way. She had the power to hurt him, and he didn’t know if she would or not. It occurred to him then, as he jumped rope in the center of the gym, that although he still cared about her, still wanted her, it would take time to rebuild the trust she’d shattered when she’d walked away.
He bounced off of the floor, the jump rope whizzing through the air as he flicked his wrists. He jumped with a steady rhythm, everything—the rope, his feet, his heart pounding in his chest—chanting the same three syllables over and over again.
Say yes, Jules.
Say yes, Jules.
Say yes, Jules.
Just about finished with his last torturous bit of cardio, Nick tipped his chin in greeting as Gabe entered the gym. Although he was supposed to be off because he’d just fought, he couldn’t seem to stay away. He wasn’t sparring, but he’d been in here almost every day, hitting the weights and the cardio machines. Gabe returned Nick’s nod, looking awfully grim for a man who’d just won a championship belt.
Nick had hoped that moving to Vegas and starting fresh would’ve helped Gabe cope with some of the pain he carried around, but it looked as though his friend was still dealing with the same demons that had been haunting him for years now.
The music changed, the hip-hop song fading out and giving way to Snap!’s “The Power.” As soon as Gabe looked at Nick again, Nick tossed the jump rope aside, breaking into a flawless running man. The side of Gabe’s mouth twitched, and he nodded. Nick kept dancing, and Gabe chuckled as he stepped onto a treadmill.
A half smile and a chuckle. Not bad.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?”
Nick stopped dancing and spun, sweat dripping into his eye causing him to squint. Craig Darcy stood several feet away, his hands planted on his hips as he stared at Nick. A sneer curled his upper lip.
“Just finishing up my workout,” Nick said, meeting Darcy’s eyes. They were the same shade of blue as Jules’, but lacked her warmth.
Darcy took a step closer to him. “This isn’t a fucking dance class, Giannakis. You’re here to train, to work, and if you don’t want to take it seriously, there are dozens of guys who’d be happy to take your place.”
Whoa. “I do take this seriously.” Darcy had no idea how much Nick had poured into his dream of becoming a professional fighter.
“Between the goofing off, the hair, and the jokes, I have a hard time believing that.”
“I can have fun and take something seriously at the same time. One doesn’t cancel out the other.”
Darcy looked at him as though he’d just told him he believed little green men were running around on Mars.
Nick’s mind flashed back to Jules’ warning at the club that her father didn’t like him. He frowned slightly, unable to stop the next words from coming out of his mouth. “Do you have some kind of problem with me?”
Darcy huffed out a breath. “Doesn’t matter what I think. You’re here because you have fans, and fans equal ticket sales and TV ratings, two things this league needs. So this isn’t playtime, Giannakis. You work your fucking ass off to win. If you’re not winning, you’re useless to me, fans or not.”
“I do work my ass off. There’s some of it over there,” he said, pointing at a nearby puddle of sweat on the mat. Darcy rolled his eyes and Nick couldn’t suppress his anger. “You know, at Imperial the boss didn’t come in and give the fighters shit. At Imperial they were willing to take risks and try n
ew things, all while supporting the fighters. Maybe you wouldn’t have such a hard time with ticket sales and TV ratings if you spent more time focused on those and less time harassing guys in the gym.”
Darcy didn’t react, just studied Nick with a cool, appraising gaze. “We’re very different people, you and me.”
Nick restrained himself from saying no shit. Darcy was always stalking around barking at people, almost never smiling. God, this was the man Jules had grown up with. Everything about her made a hell of a lot more sense now.
Darcy continued. “I don’t give a goddamn fuck how they do things at Imperial. You’re here now, and if someone gave me the kind of opportunity I’m giving you, I’d be a little more grateful and focused.” He gestured toward Gabe. “Like him. No frills, no antics, no fucking around. Just pure dedication.”
Nick quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he wondered if Darcy had any fucking clue about the pain Gabe Maddox carried around.
“If you miss Imperial so much, you’re welcome to go back there.” He moved toward Nick, dangerously close to getting in his face. “Don’t you ever fucking tell me how to run my league again.”
Nick clenched his jaw, not allowing himself to get pulled into an argument with his boss. Who was also Jules’ father. Shit. He’d never really thought about the potential complications of that. He’d been so focused on first avoiding her, then getting under her skin, and then convincing her to let him in. Jesus, what would Darcy say if he knew where Nick’s face had been just a few hours ago?
Darcy shrugged and turned. “It’s your future, and I’m the one with the crystal ball. Don’t fucking forget it,” he called over his shoulder as he walked out of the gym, the door slamming shut behind him.
Dirty Boxing Page 12