by E M Lindsey
“He favors his right hand, which is his stronger side,” he murmured to Cole. “Just remember your blocking. He’s got a heavy gait, too, so you won’t miss it. Just remember to focus, to feel. I know you’ve got this. You’re a better fighter than he is.”
Cole nodded, opening his mouth for his guard, then flexed his fingers around the wraps before Adrian slid his gloves on.
“He knows the rules, no more than half a foot apart at all times, gloves touching at every interval. Go for his left temple, two hard strikes and you can probably knock him out.”
Cole nodded again, taking a breath as he took in the din of the crowd, the murmur of each person watching. Did they want him to win? Did they want him to fail? Did they come to see the spectacle of a totally blind man attempt to box in a tournament?
None of that mattered when he heard a tiny shout over the background noise. “Good luck, Daddy!”
And, “You’ve got this, babe! We love you!”
He didn’t smile, but he lifted his hand in acknowledgement. His heart soared. He would never know what Ryan looked like, but he could picture him in his mind, Claire on his hip, the pair of them watching and proud no matter the outcome of the fight. He felt the corners of his eyelids go wet, the new tear ducts leaking slightly, wetting the implants beneath his lids. He could feel them move, and it was such a small thing, but it sent a thrill up his spine knowing he’d made it this far. It had gone off the rails, but he was finally where he meant to be. Madly in love, allowed to be with his daughter every day, making a difference in their lives and in his own.
He let Adrian lead him to the center of the ring, and his glove touched another.
Favored right side. Get him on the left.
One way or another, the match would be over soon, and Cole would feel victorious either way.
***
Reaching up, Ryan brushed a stray tear from Cole’s cheek, smiling at the sight of it. There was faint bruising from the two hits Cole had taken to the face before he knocked the guy flat on his back, winning the match. The tears weren’t actually because Cole was crying—the doctors had said that as he continued to heal, he’d tear up a little more. It was a natural reaction, but it still made Ryan chuckle when he saw his boyfriend looking like he was about to start sobbing.
“My poor boxing champion, all emotional,” Ryan said.
Cole smacked him. “Shut it. It’ll get better.”
Ryan laughed and kissed along the salty trail. “Does it feel better now?”
“Still strange,” Cole admitted. “Though I like the kisses. It’s just hard, adjusting to the feeling of eyes there. And it’s ridiculous how much I worry whether or not they make my face look…strange,” he finished with a small sigh.
Ryan nuzzled his cheek, then kissed along his neck. Apart from okaying the boxing match, the doctors had also just given the okay for Cole to engage in other activities post-procedure. Though it had only been a short while that sex had been banned, it felt like years since Ryan had been allowed to touch like this. “I love your face however it is. Though I have to say, I do prefer less bruising.”
He turned and reached for Ryan, drawing him close. “I just want you to find me attractive.”
“I do. Christ, I do,” Ryan said. It was entirely true. He stared at the half-lidded prosthetic eyes which had been painted to match Claire’s color—the color Cole once had before his injury. “I find you so fucking attractive that I want to be around you, and inside you, all the time. Every. Single. Day.” He punctuated the last three words with a small, sucking kiss at Cole’s jawline.
It had been five months since Cole had come back. Five months that they’d put all of the trouble behind them. It had been two months and six days since Cole agreed to live with Ryan, and one month, eight days, and thirteen hours since they opened the door to their very own home together. It was four bedrooms—an office for each of them, and bedroom for Claire—with an open kitchen, comfy sofa, large yard for Kevin, and every single thing labeled in braille.
In short, it was perfect.
Ryan let out a small moan when Cole’s hands found their way up his shirt, the pads of his fingers brushing along his sensitive nipples. His cock hardened and he thrust against Cole’s thigh, wanting more friction.
“I need,” Cole groaned, thrusting back against Ryan.
Ryan heard the unspoken part of the plea, and quickly rolled Cole onto his back, pushing up his shirt, going straight for the waistband of his sweats. Hooking his fingers into the elastic, he pulled them down in a slow drag, letting his mouth follow with wet, hot, pressing kisses in their wake. Cole hissed, his body tense, chasing those fleeting presses of lips as Ryan made it down to his feet, then slowly began to nip and lick his way back up to where Cole really wanted him.
Ryan stared at the exposed cock, head peeking out of the foreskin, leaking in a slow dribble of precome. He opened his mouth, taking in the tip and giving it a hard suck, the way Cole liked it.
“Fuck. Yes, Ryan…please,” Cole murmured. He reached down with searching fingers, feeling the place where Ryan’s lips were stretched around, and Ryan couldn’t help but smile a little as he sucked him in to the root.
Cole swore again, bucking his hips up against the onslaught of sensation as Ryan pushed down, then pulled all the way back to swirl his tongue around the head. “Let’s see if we can give those new tears a real test,” he murmured.
“What…?” Cole said, breathless and desperate.
Ryan lifted up and leaned in, pressing his mouth to the space between Cole’s shoulder and neck and nipped him there. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good you’re going to cry.” Without further warning, he pushed his hands under Cole and turned him onto his stomach. He lifted him by the hips, then spread his cheeks to expose his ass to the cool air. He blew a warm puff across him, watching Cole’s entire body tense with anticipation, then he brought his mouth down.
Cole gripped the pillow, burying his face as he unleashed a litany of curses muffled by the fabric. He fucked his hips back against Ryan’s mouth, against his persistent tongue, Ryan felt himself grow closer and closer to the edge simply because turning Cole on this much was almost as good as pushing his cock deep inside and fucking him.
When Cole was all-but sobbing, Ryan pulled away and reached for the lube, leaving as little time as possible with Cole’s ass empty. He slid in one finger, giving it a few cursory thrusts before adding a second, just the way Cole liked it.
“I need,” Cole said, his voice thick with need and emotion.
“I’ve got you, babe. I’m going to make it so fucking good,” Ryan promised. He continued to fuck Cole with his fingers as he slicked himself and rolled on a condom, then rose fully onto his knees and positioned himself where his fingers spread Cole’s opening in a wide V. He slid between his digits, a moment that dragged on forever when Cole’s ass was full of Ryan’s fingers and the head of his cock. Then he slowly pulled his hand away to grip Cole’s hips and he pushed himself all the way in.
There was little resistance, the tight heat welcoming him in, and Cole shuddered with pleasure as he gave a thrust back. Ryan groaned, his face white-hot with need and desire to just spill, but he wanted to make it last. He wanted to give this to his lover.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured again, and he reached down, pulling Cole up so his back pressed to Ryan’s chest. He snaked an arm around his waist, his hand reaching up to toy with his nipples as he fucked into him in short, firm bursts.
“Unh, ah ah ah,” Cole gasped out with every push. He gripped the tops of Ryan’s thighs and bounced himself on the rock-hard dick, and it took everything Ryan had not to tumble over the edge.
“Yeah. Fuck yes, baby. Take it. God, take my cock,” Ryan groaned, kissing the side of his neck.
Cole’s hips sped up, thrusting himself down harder as Ryan matched his pace, matched the strength of each thrust. They were moving in perfect tandem, their bodies pressed together, sweat dripping off their
foreheads. Ryan took Cole’s hips in hand and he used the leverage of his bent knees to lift them a little higher into the air for better purchase and he pulled out, then pushed in with a long, perfect, firm thrust.
Cole cried out, his head falling back onto Ryan’s shoulder, his body shaking. “I…need…”
Ryan saw the trickle of a tear from the corner of his eye, took in the warm flush of his cheeks, his parted lips, the look of utter ecstasy on his face. This. This is what he had wanted to give him, what he’d wanted to show him. Cole was everything, and Ryan wasn’t about to let that go.
He slowly dragged his hand down to Cole’s dick which was throbbing and spilling fluid in a steady stream, and he gripped it. The foreskin gave it a perfect slide as he began to stroke him, and Cole gave one long groan and a shudder before he came in hot spurts. His ass spasmed around Ryan, dragging him along into orgasm. Ryan’s breath stuttered in his chest and his hips fucked up hard and fast as he buried his face in Cole’s neck and just let himself feel it. The pleasure washed over him better than it had ever been, and it felt like an eternity before he came back to himself.
When he was aware again, he was on his side, Cole facing him and brushing hair off his forehead. He wore a gentle smile, his cheeks still pink, breathing still returning to normal.
“That was,” Ryan said, not quite able to find the words.
Cole grinned at him and leaned in for a slow, careful kiss. “It was. It was everything.”
“I love you,” Ryan murmured against the warm lips pressed to his own.
Cole held on just a little tighter, a little more desperate, and he whispered the words back. “I love you too. Forever.”
The End
Coming 2019: Rhys and Trevor’s Story
Baum’s Boxing, Book Three: Fringe Contender
Please enjoy this short excerpt:
Walking fast, he pushed the swinging door open and came to a stuttered halt. In front of the sinks stood a familiar redhead, wearing only an undershirt, his locks dripping down his face from a makeshift wash he was clearly doing under the rusted faucet.
He had an overnight bag hanging off the side of the other sink, and a dirty towel resting over his arm. Their eyes met and Trevor looked like he wanted to bolt. Not willing to let that happen, Rhys positioned himself in front of the door and cleared his throat. “I think we need to talk.”
Trevor’s jaw clenched so hard, his temples throbbed with the rapid pace of his pulse. “No.”
“You should have called me,” Rhys said. His hands curled into fists, mostly angry at himself for not recognizing this sooner. He knew something was wrong when Trevor had called the week before, but he hadn’t realized how bad it was.
“This isn’t your business,” Trevor all-but snapped.
Rhys snorted. “This is because of Barnes. What the fuck happened?”
Throwing up his hands, Trevor reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. “Well,” he started, his voice tight and hoarse, “after I got fired and blackmailed, whoever the fuck is behind this made a call to my landlord and got me evicted. When I went to apply for another apartment, my record came up with a red flag—whatever the fuck that means—so I’ve been sleeping in my car.”
Rhys let himself absorb the shocking blow of his admission. “You don’t have any family you can stay with?”
At the devastated look on Trevor’s face, Rhys felt like a complete asshole. “No. The one person who ever gave a shit about me died before I turned twenty. And I was never really close to anyone else. Not here, anyway. My work colleagues were definitely happy to side with the school when I was fired for fucking a student.”
Rhys closed his eyes, took a breath, then opened them. “My car’s out front. I have to piss and then pick up some junk food. My place is a ten-minute drive from here, and I have a pretty decent shower so you can…”
“Fuck no,” Trevor spat. “I am not a charity case.”
Rhys couldn’t help a dark laugh as he looked the guy up and down. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but yeah, you are. You’re the poster-child for charity case. It’s not your fault and believe me the things I want to do to this bastard I don’t even have words for. They’re dark and depraved and he would suffer. But I can’t do any of that. What I can do is give you my guest room and continue to help Noah take this piece of shit down so the both of you can get on with living your lives.”
Trevor’s lower jaw trembled a little and his cheeks went bright pink, making his freckled stand out. “I can’t,” he whispered.
Rhys took a step forward and leveled the man with his most serious look. “You can. Where else are you going to go? You can’t live like this forever, and I’m not offering this to you out of pity. I’m offering this to you because for some reason this guy is shitting on you and you don’t even know why.”
At that, Trevor’s eyes began to well and Rhys felt something in his chest twist painfully. “You don’t even know me. What if I actually am some monster who totally deserves it.”
“Then fool me once,” Rhys said with a shrug. “I’m willing to take the chance. Now, I really have to piss, so don’t fucking leave, okay? If you do, I will hunt you down. I have friends. Cop friends. With license plate scanners.”
Letting out a tense laugh, Trevor nodded. “Yeah I…fine. Not for long. Just for…”
“For however long it takes,” Rhys corrected.
Author’s Note and Acknowledgements
Hello dear readers. I didn’t do this in the last book apart from a short dedication, but I wanted to stop and give a thanks to those who have fallen for this series. It’s out of my comfort zone—this style of story and writing, but somehow, it’s grown on me in ways I hadn’t expected. I first want to say thanks for putting up with my continued sad attempts at sounding American—and in particular this book which is probably worse than others going between an American and English character—but many thanks go out to my beta-readers and editor who give it their best try at trying to yankify me. Secondly, I’d like to give a special thanks to Lolly, my real life ex-turned-best friend who not only inspired relationships between many of my characters, but also never hesitated to provide me with insight in living blind. I’ll never regret our decade together, and I’ll never regret finding our new common ground outside of the past. Third, I’d like to thank Kay for all your editing hard work. Editing for indie authors is no easy task, and often without reward, so I just want you to know that someday I will fill your office with muffin baskets and Lush bath bombs. Next, I’d like to thank Google for all your dodgy information on boxing and the military, without which this book might never be possible. (I’m actually taking the piss, I’m not truly thanking google, but only making a point to say that my only experience with either of those two things is through internet research—lest someone take me seriously for giving google anything)
Lastly to the readers—new and old—for giving their feedback whether negative or positive. It always leaves me feeling some type of way knowing someone took time out of their day to talk about my work. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Finally, I’d like to add here that I wish I could guarantee a firmer release date for book three, but as I’m back to research and lectures, the writing will be slower than it was over the winter hols. Classics is an impossibly demanding degree—who knew ancient Greek was so hard (and yes, that’s facetious, but bloody hell is it necessary to have that many principal parts—and what is it with their love for participles, ffs). But I promise this series is always on my mind. I have several works I intend to release this year as I’ve finally found my writing groove again. So, I hope everyone has had a brilliant 2019 so far, and all I can say is, let’s make waves!
All my love,
Elaine-
Works by E.M. Lindsey
Baum’s Boxing Series:
Book One: Below the Belt
Magnum Opus Series:
Verismo
Tremolo
Ser
enata
Love in History Series:
Time and Tide
Monsters and Men
Stand-Alone Novels:
Endless Forever
In Secret, In Silence
Absolution
Time to Wake Up
Like Water Catching Fire
Forget-Me-Not
About the Author
E.M. Lindsey lives in the SW United States where she’s currently on the Ph.D. track. Her life is family, thesis research, and writing in that order. In what precious little time she has to herself, she reads cheesy romances and binges GBBO and terrible 90s romcoms on Netflix.
Find E.M. Lindsey’s blog at wordpress. Subscribe for short stories, excerpts, sales, news, and updates.