by Amy Faye
He dropped his hands. The hands were the first line of defense, but they weren't the important ones. His feet would get him out of most trouble. His eyes, though—those were the most important. If he could see it, he could deal with it.
The big guy caught his balance in an instant and turned. He brought his shoulders in tight, and straight from the middle shot a hand out like a piston. Wes jumped back a step, feeling as if he'd been pushed by the sheer threat of being hit by that big meaty son of a bitch's hand.
No way he would let himself get hit by that. His heart would stop right then and there, knowing these Karate-using types. Right then and there. He brought his hands back up. Maybe he didn't need them for defense, but maybe they would be useful. He could have his arm shattered instead of his rib-cage, and that was an acceptable trade.
They circled a minute longer. The big Japanese took another shot. Practically the same. A straight shot from the shoulder, smooth and quick and perfect. Wes couldn't have improved on it if he'd had the guy in the gym for a week.
But it was time to start testing out the attack; he couldn't play second fiddle forever. Another piston-fired arm shot out, only this time Wes stepped in, ducked his head under the powerful hit, and used his momentum to shoot one big meaty hand into the big guy's sides. The tender bit of a guy's ribs, right under the armpit.
The big Japanese, Fuji, Wes thought, bent over in two a little, bringing his elbow down as if he could protect the spot in hindsight. Wes was back out of range again when a second thrust shot out, hard enough and aimed to crush his skull.
Nothing to worry about. Not yet. As long as he kept himself from getting hit, this would be a cakewalk. But aside from breathing heavy, the guy looked like he wasn't even bruised. Wes slipped another punch, hit the ribs again. Then a third time. He stepped back, a hair's breadth away from a fist right in the nose. If he was lucky it would give him a flat play-doh face. If he wasn't, it was lights out and an unsung funeral, probably eternity in an unmarked grave under the bay.
Wes took in a breath and started circling again. The guy was definitely breathing hard, now. He had the discipline to keep his hands up, but every few steps his hands fell as if to protect that same spot from getting hit again. Maybe he had a broken rib, or maybe it was just a bad bruise right on the bone, but either way—
Wes shook the thought out of his head. Don't plan. React. Don't plan. React.
A hand shot out hard. Wes slipped it just in time to see the elbow coming around behind it. He ducked his head further and slammed shoulder-first into the guy's waist. It wasn't enough to knock him down, though, especially since it had been mostly accidental. A heavy hand clubbed down on his back, sending Wes to the ground.
He climbed to his feet as quick as he could. No more time to fuck around. Not when the guy could hit like that. This wasn't a play fight. Don't plan. React. The guy seemed to have fallen back into his rhythm. Wes slipped another palm thrust headed for his nose. He knew to expect the elbow, and ducked back under the thrusting arm.
He brought a heavy fist around in a downward arc. Poor Fuji never saw it coming. He caught it right in the teeth, which hurt like a son of a bitch but in Wesley's experience it worked pretty well. He felt the guy slumping as he lost control of his not-inconsiderable weight. Easy. As long as you keep your eyes open and don't get caught by surprise, no problems at all.
Wes stood up. Who was it that son of a bitch kept looking at? He looked over. Todd Bradley was sitting there beside some Japanese kid, probably only nineteen. He couldn't have weighed a hundred twenty soaking wet, but he was talking to Mr. Bradley, so he must have been somebody.
Not that it mattered, because the girl sat beside him was pretty god damned good looking. She seemed to say something to the Ramen-sized guy beside her, and he blew her off. She said something again, still too quiet to hear, and he turned sharply and said something louder. It was in Japanese, but Wesley knew that kind of talk wherever he heard it, regardless of the language.
The translation was pretty rough, but he guessed it fell somewhere on the range between 'shut up, bitch,' and 'fuck off' and that meant that the girl was his for the taking.
He stepped back out through the ropes.
"What did you say to her, man?"
"That was a great fight, Mr. Park. I'm very impressed."
"Thanks. But what did you say to the girl?"
"Oh, that? Nothing. It's none of your business."
"He told me that I should keep my mouth shut when I'm around men's business."
"You should apologize," Wes said, letting a bit of an edge slip into his voice.
"Or what?"
"Or you won't like it."
Three
Minami
Minami wasn't sure how she was going to manage it, not yet. But there was no doubt in her mind, not one bit, that she wanted to disappear right from that spot. She should have realized that things were going to go this way, but the temptation of having someone actually standing up for her—it was just too much.
"I'm not going to apologize. Why don't you leave before you get yourself into trouble?"
"Alright."
The American grabbed her arm and pulled her up. His hand on her arm, where his skin touched hers, burned hot and drove all her attention to him.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm taking my fee," the American growled, and started moving.
Minami was trapped in her mind, unable to muster up the courage or conviction to fight back. What in the hell was going on here?
She looked at the man who was taking her away, through the crowd. Minami could feel all eyes on the two of them. He was good-looking, with a typically American square jaw, and a beard that looked like he hadn't shaved in a day or two.
His hair was cut short, but not very short. Probably the longest he could leave it, if he was doing these fights regularly. Long hair would get caught and pulled, she knew instinctively.
But it was his eyes that drew her in the most. They burned hot and told her that if something happened right then and there, it wouldn't matter what it was, he would get revenge, and the person on the receiving end of that fury wasn't going to be walking normally for a while.
Someone came up to meet them, a dark-skinned man, and he handed Wesley a shirt, which suddenly brought into focus that he hadn't been wearing one before, just a tight pair of blue-jeans that showed off how absurdly thick his thighs were.
If Fuji had been built like a draft horse or a bull, Wesley Park was built like a thoroughbred racehorse. Thin at times, and not an ounce of fat on his frame, but wherever there needed to be muscle, he had it. As if he'd been purpose-built by God to do what he was doing right now.
His looks left her feeling something that she hadn't felt during any of the times when she'd been forced to meet with the other families, none of the marriage meetings. She tried ignoring the tingle inside her as he walked her away through the parking structure. Higa wasn't anywhere to be seen behind them, apparently having either decided she wasn't worth the effort, or having been stopped by someone.
Possibly it was both, but 4th-dan or not, she doubted that he would want to fight someone like the man who was practically dragging her out now. He pulled a set of keys out of the back pocket of his jeans, and jabbed a button. A car in front of them beeped and flashed its lights.
The American opened the driver's side door, and waited, watching her. He must not have seen the confusion on her face, or if he had, then he must not have cared.
"Get in."
The tone of his voice made her hands start moving before she knew what was happening, and lit a fire inside her that she didn't want to admit was there.
He waited a moment for her to slide inside, get herself buckled in before he started the car moving.
Then they were driving, and he drove like he fought. Cautious, but when the time came, he took his chances and he could afford to be aggressive. When he pulled up into a spot, Minami suddenly jerked out of her reverie. Wa
tching him drive had been nicer than watching him fight, but in both cases she had been mesmerized. The way that he moved was fluid, with no wasted movements. He didn't waste time fiddling with the shifter, or adjusting the temperature, or drumming his thumbs on the wheel.
He gave the impression of moving very slowly, but every time that he did it, he was doing what needed doing at that exact instant. The only part of him that felt snappy, alive, were his eyes. Constantly scanning, darting around the road and the mirrors. As he undid his seat belt, he caught her looking.
"What?"
"Where are we?"
"My place."
"Oh." She should have refused, demanded to be taken home. But she didn't want to be rude. No, that wasn't accurate. She didn't want to be taken home, either.
She followed him out of the car and into an elevator. The elevator went up a few floors, and then he guided her to a door, inserted the key, and opened it up.
"You want something to drink?"
"Not really."
His mouth found hers in an instant, his hands wasting no time in beginning to explore her body. His fingers started at her sides, moving up and down between her ribs and her hips. She let his fingers dance across her body, enjoying the sensations he was giving her even as she knew that she shouldn't have been doing this.
His lips moved down to her neck, biting softly and sucking and, she knew, leaving bruises where she couldn't afford to have any. His body pressed against hers, his hard lines contrasting with her soft curves like they were made for each other. One of his big hands found her breasts, through the dress that she'd worn just for the date tonight. He ripped it, fabric tearing and buttons popping off.
Her breasts spilled out of the top, her bra pushed roughly up to reveal them. Wesley's hungry mouth took a plump nipple between the teeth and bit down, eliciting a moan. This was a mistake, Minami thought. The best mistake she'd ever made.
His hands started to explore lower, his fingers dancing on her belly, lower, his palm pressing into her mound. He hiked up the dress with those dancing fingers until his fingers danced on her panties, touching and rubbing and caressing the right part of her until it drove her crazy.
He took her hand and guided it right where he wanted it, right on his hard cock. It seemed almost too big for her, feeling too big even to wrap her hand all the way around it. He removed his hand from her and helped her to unzip the fly on his jeans.
His cock was hard, and far too big for her. How on earth could anything that size fit inside of her?
"Suck it," she heard Wesley growl. She looked up at him, and then slowly moved to her knees. She took a moment to look at it, and then experimentally kissed the tip.
He took a fistful of her hair, the feeling of his fist pulling at the roots a heady shot of pain that went right to her pussy in spite of herself. He used that grip to show her exactly what he wanted her to do, like she was just a puppet, a fuck-toy. As if her ability to move herself was a mistake.
Minami should have hated it, but she didn't. It was as if she was feeling normal for the first time. As if finally someone had understood her. She didn't want to be responsible for her family's future. She didn't want to have to have some guy ignore her, or worse, worry about her every whim. What she wanted, what she needed, and what Wesley understood about her, was that all she wanted was to be useful.
His cock probing her throat? That was useful. That was what she could do. She took him as deep as she could, enjoying the soft groan and the whispered 'oh fuck' from above her.
She gulped in air when he pulled her off his cock, and then as soon as she had her lungs full again he was pushing her back on, stretching her mouth to the breaking point, and shoving that incredible cock down her throat, thrusting in and out of her mouth.
"Oh, Jesus, your mouth is good."
Minami didn't want to admit how much she enjoyed the compliment. She was a good girl, she wasn't some kind of slut who just wanted to be—but she was, a voice inside her said. The voice that was causing the tingling all over her body. Minami's hand started circling around her clit, the shocks of pleasure starting to build along with the pleasure of Wesley's cock shoved down her throat.
He came without warning, his cock pressed right into the back of her mouth, deep enough to bypass her swallowing completely. She did her best to swallow it anyway and came up coughing, every inch of her skin swollen and sensitive and aroused.
"God fucking damn it, girl," he growled.
"Did I do okay?"
"Fucking Christ," he said, and turned around, his cock still half-hard and hanging out of his pants. He opened the door to the fridge and pulled out a beer, opening it with a twist. "You always that good?"
Minami didn't like how much she wanted to do it again.
Four
Wes
Wes finished the beer, barely tasting it any more. That was the problem with these light beers. Cheap, and they'd get you there, but in between there wouldn't be much to experience. Some people might have thought it was a bonus. Wesley wasn't one of them, but his budget didn't reflect his tastes. This was a rare indulgence, but a big fight was reason enough to celebrate.
He looked at the girl beside him and felt the stirrings of arousal in his belly, already wanting to take what he hadn't needed before.
"Come here," he growled. She did as she was told, sliding over across the couch. The girl was an odd one. He hadn't caught her name, and he wasn't sure he cared. He didn't have a lot of time for relationships, or inclination toward one, but the girl could suck the chrome off a door handle, and she fuckin' listened, which was unusual in itself.
Wes pulled the little Japanese girl in close and used one hand to rub her breasts. She squirmed, but she didn't stop him, and that was good enough for him. He let his other hand lazily explore her body again.
The Japanese had exactly the body he expected from some rich Jap asshole's arm-candy. Small, with just enough curve in the right places to make her an interesting accessory. He lifted her skirt up high enough that he could see a glimpse of her panties.
His fingers teased up her thighs, towards her core. He could feel her legs tightening around his hands, but she still didn't try to stop him. Her hips moved down to meet his hands, but still he denied her. He skittered across and back down her other leg, to the knee.
The hand on her breast, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas. No teasing here. He pinched a nipple roughly, pulling an arch in her back and earning a gasp from her lips. Wes pulled her hair out of the way and started to kiss her neck again, her voice slowly rising in faint gasps.
His fingers traced the line back up her thighs, testing and teasing and never quite touching the place where he knew she wanted him to be. Each time he pulled away, never letting her have the pleasure she wanted. It wasn't about her pleasure, though. She'd learn that soon enough, but until then he would continue to tempt her. Continue to tease her until she was going crazy with need. Then it would be about his pleasure, and whatever she got out of it was hers to keep.
All of a sudden Wes rose to his feet, grabbing her and lifting her up. The girl in his arms was practically weightless—she didn't feel heavy in his arms at all. Then he moved her unceremoniously from the couch to the mattress on the floor in the corner and dropped her from waist-high. She let out a little yelp as she fell, one that gave him a little twinge of enjoyment.
"Shhh," he said, putting one finger over his lips. She looked about ready to start rubbing herself right in front of him, her legs splayed out wide. She was trembling in uncertainty, and he had to admit, that was about where he wanted her. Unsure of where she stood, except that she was right where he wanted her whenever it was important.
Wesley dropped to his knees, using one hand to push her back onto her back. She looked down her body at him as he freed his cock again, already hard and ready. Then he let her have the touching that she'd wanted so badly, his palm pressing into her mound, his fingers dancing through the sensitive folds of her pussy. He
pushed her panties aside and let one finger explore.
She was tight, the walls of her pussy already sucking and squeezing on just one finger. It would be incredible for him, he knew, once he was inside. But it would hurt, and it wouldn't just hurt her. He added another finger, scissoring and loosening as the woman beneath him writhed at the sensations inside her.
His hand went down to her throat, constricting her breath until he could see that she was struggling to breathe, struggling even to think. Then he let up and she went still as she gasped in. He lined himself up with her and tweaked a rosy nipple between his fingers. She raised her hips to meet his thrust inside, sending himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.
She took in a sharp breath and closed her eyes as he lifted her hips up, send his cock even deeper inside her until he was sheathed inside her fully. Wesley liked the way she looked when she was getting fucked. She couldn't hide her pleasure worth a damn, but she so obviously wanted to. He used her hips as a grip and pulled himself out until only the head was still inside her, then pushed back inside with one hard, smooth motion until he was seated all the way inside her once more, then enjoyed the gasp she let in as he hit the deepest places inside her.
The feeling of her pussy squeezing down had him feeling as if he could let go any time, as if he were on the edge of oblivion the entire time. He pulled himself out once more, the walls of her pussy not wanting his cock to leave. She let out a whimper when he pushed back in, fast and hard. He did it again, slow out, enjoying the feeling of her body trying to tell him to stay deep inside.
Then he forced himself back in, slamming his cock into her deepest places and forcing his pleasure on her. She couldn't hold back at all any more, her voice coming out hard and throaty.
He started to speed up, pulling out faster and slamming in harder, every thrust bring him closer to the welcoming pleasurable abyss of orgasm. The girl beneath him let her voice out more as they moved, unable to prevent her pleasure from sounding out.