FORCE: Alpha Badboy MMA Romance

by Wyatt, Dani

  “I don't know. I just do. I’ve always been that like, I worry about Dad getting mad, I worry about what everyone thinks. I don’t like people looking at me.”

  “Your Dad is always mad. He’s given you shit for years while you slaved away doing everything he fucking asks. And for what? Does he thank you? Tell you how amazing and smart and funny and beautiful you are? No. He talks to you like you’re some indentured servant. Just because he’s your Dad doesn’t mean you have to take that shit from him. You may as well live your life, do what you want — he’s going to act like an ass either way, but at least you will be doing your own thing for once.” Cameron’s fingers played with the little tag then pulled it and — as intended — the little toggle tightened like a choke chain.

  “Thank you. It’s beautiful. I’ve never had anything this nice before.”

  “I know, and that shit’s going to change too.”

  Cameron kissed her tenderly, slowly — his hand on the back of her neck feeling the racing of her pulse.

  35

  Victoria couldn’t be sure when she was dreaming and when she was awake. Cameron’s torso was warm and hard against her back and his arm nestled around her waist as she slept. She felt so small curled into his massive form.

  The thinnest fingers of white morning light were just beginning to fight their way through the November clouds as she listened to his steady breathing.

  His face was just behind her neck; each exhale warming the spot between her shoulders and where her hair fell below her ear. Right where he left several deep red and purple marks from his teeth.

  Five days had passed since Cameron heard Topher’s voice on the message and proceeded to break Roger’s nose, three ribs, and came within a flea’s jump of killing him right on the office floor.

  Roger had kept his distance since that day, and Cameron was never a man of many words anyway, so it wasn’t like they were missing any long, deep conversations.

  But, there was the invisible mist of impending doom that hung over all of them. Like the scent of the seasons when they change. You can’t describe it, you couldn’t tell when it started and when it end, but it was there nonetheless.

  Cameron kept himself held tight, never one to give too much away; Victoria could feel the gears tightening and turning with each passing day. Something was in the works, but he made it very clear she was not to ask, and not to worry about the mess their fathers had gotten themselves in.

  For once in her life, she felt safe and only gave the difficulties they were in a fleeting thought. It did tickle at her when she was doing payroll or doing balance sheets for the gym, but she tried to leave it in Cameron’s hands.

  Then, there was the sex. She didn’t have many girlfriends over the years, but she sat in on enough conversations with other women to realize that Cameron was not your average lover.

  It seemed that his soul mission was to bring her pleasure. Or pain — but the lines between the two became increasingly blurred when it came to their intimate time together.

  Sure, he enjoyed himself too, but the things he did — the way he watched her face, engulfed her body with every part of his — it was so much more than just a physical union. It was like he wanted to bind their souls and their spirits together when they made love.

  And, well, there was the other thing. Victoria figured out exactly what being his babygirl meant.

  Her ass had been turned over his knee more than once and he introduced her to some other intense forms of submission. He knew exactly how far to push her, exactly what she needed, and she felt closer to him than ever.

  He honored her with his attention, his touch, his bite — he worshiped her body, and she tingled laying here now with his warmth behind her.

  Her fingers traced the still pink lines around both wrists where Cameron tightened the black rope on them last night. Victoria felt her belly flutter and flip, instinctively she curled into him as he slept.

  She could feel his growing erection pushing against her even as he slept. Already feeling herself growing slick and hungry, she shifted — turning her head and breathing in his scent.

  The intensity of his eyes were as much a source of her pleasure as everything else. The connection she felt with him was unlike anything she thought two humans could achieve.

  He returned late from his workout last night, Victoria long asleep when he snuck in, naked under the covers and woke her with his fingers.

  “Who does this belong to?” he rumbled as his hand clamped down over the the slip of fabric between her legs.

  “You.” Her sleepy voice answered the sirens call as he slipped her panties down.

  He peppered soft kisses and worked her with his fingers. He alternated his kisses with small nibbles on the back of her neck until he raised her leg and entered her from behind.

  He was insatiable, and he had cum inside her again last night, Victoria loved the feel of his cock as it swelled and exploded. It made her eyes flutter, and her body warm just thinking about it.

  Being a mother was not something she considered before Cameron. But, when they were together she felt like she was home. They weren’t new to each other, and she felt cocooned in his safety, his familiar power.

  Life had changed so much in such a short time. She still fought moments of doubt. Wondering if she was caught up in this foolish fantasy and Cameron would wake up one day and be gone.

  Victoria slipped out from the crisp white sheets. Cameron was an enigma; most people would look at him and think he lived like an animal. But he would put any military bunkhouse to shame. The bed was always tight with sheets as crisp and clean as any five-star hotel.

  Even his taste in furniture was surprising. Warm tones of caramel, cream, and deep brown contrasted with the clean white walls and rich stout colored wood trim. She followed the soft light that streamed under the blinds on the window and wondered if she was in a Pottery Barn ad instead of the bedroom of a tattooed warrior beast.

  And, there was the money. He saved, probably still hoarding the first dollar he ever made when Larry broke down and started paying him a nickel an hour for scrubbing the toilets at the gym.

  Victoria still remembered the day he showed her his first savings account. He walked four miles and crossed eight lanes of Woodward Ave. to open his first account when he was ten years old — his pockets packed full of change and crumpled dollar bills.

  He still had that account and a few others. Cameron made money in lots of sanctioned and illegal fights over the last 20 years, in addition to the paltry sum Larry paid him before he left the gym six months ago. He always seemed to have enough, but Victoria knew it wasn’t the kind of money needed to take care of the sea of red that their fathers racked up with their years of bad bets.

  Cameron was smart when it came to money, but school never set quite right with him.

  He teased her yesterday over breakfast about how much she always studied. Cameron graduated five years ahead of her, but a year behind his peers, and just barely. His mind worked in its own way, not a slave to society’s conventions and rules.

  He was as smart as anyone she ever met, but he held little patience for sitting in lined rows of desks for hours listening to someone lecture him on the virtues of algebra or the economic modalities of the original British colonies.

  Her stomach growled as her feet touched the hard warmth of the dark wood floor. She tiptoed, careful to skip the third plank in front of the door as it screeched like a rat as the whack of the metal trap came down on its neck.

  Victoria heard a deep sigh from the bed, froze, and watched as Cameron’s arm lengthened across the bed She held her breath then he settled back into a steady, soft breathing and she made her way toward the kitchen.

  As safe as she felt, there was always the nagging, gnawing in the back of her mind. Like a child when they are awaiting their punishment. In her weak moments when she allowed herself to think about it, the situation with Topher seemed insurmountable.

  His refrigerato
r was as much a juxtaposition as the neatness and organization of the small house. Small plastic containers were lined up in neat rows labeled with each day of the week.

  Each contained all colors of the rainbow, fresh greens, beets, beans, grilled chicken, and broccoli. He ate at least six times a day, and there wasn’t a bag of chips or frozen pizza to be found.

  Luckily, when it came to what Victoria wanted, he encouraged her to eat healthy, but there was no interest in monitoring or limiting what she ate. He made it very clear, he adored each inch of her body, and he did not want to see bones sticking out.

  He gave her a sidelong glance when she brought the box of blueberry Pop-tarts over in her messenger bag, but it was more a matter of her health than anything about her weight.

  He put his foot down when she tried to bring in a twelve pack of Diet Coke. He growled and lectured her about the dangers of Aspartame and the other chemicals that rotted your brain and your gut and he had no intention of letting her hurt herself even with something as widely accepted as a diet soda.

  He cooked, too. Every night they made dinner together, then he would go off most nights for another workout or sparring session at Reggie’s gym. It quickly became comfortable, familiar, but still, Victoria felt her heart race and her blood rush in her ears whenever he touched her or locked those piercing blue eyes on her.

  The small, neat white kitchen sparkled in the dim light of the November morning. She opened the cabinet to pull out the coffee.

  Greeting her, sitting next to the canister of organic Sumatran coffee he insisted on buying her at $56.00 a pound, was another white box with the now familiar red velvet ribbon. A handwritten note leaned there waiting for her.

  “Babygirl, two weeks ago today you took me inside you for the first time and my mind, body and soul became yours and your’s mine.”

  Alone in the kitchen, a smile curved her lips as she slipped the ribbon onto the counter. Inside the box, was a set of diamond earrings, Old English script letters, one ‘B’ and one ‘G’ with diamonds set inside.

  As she slipped the earrings into place, she felt the pull of darkness, unable to keep the fingers of doubt from clutching around her throat. This magical new world teetered on a precipice and even though she trusted, she knew the very real possibility that whatever happened could be the end of Southside, but also the end of them and even worse.

  Growing up in Southwest Detroit, you learn things that most people would never know. Men like Topher did not rule by some politically correct form of street democracy, they ruled by force and intimidation.

  That intimidation came from a cruelty that left people with fewer fingers or a limp — or sometimes, an empty spot at the dinner table that would never again be filled.

  The cogs in the wheels were churning and turning. Exactly how far one of them would end up crushed in the formidable power of Topher MacGuire’s cruel dynasty remained to be seen.

  36

  Some people have skills — senses — that are beyond what others believe are possible. Cameron’s animal like instinct for danger rose above human possibility.

  He was like a gazelle on the African plain who suddenly raises its head into the wind and darts like a comet across away from some invisible danger with the trusting pack hot on his heels.

  Cameron walked into the cavern of the gym, the music echoing as Victoria worked her way down the back hall to the office. He could sense something in the air.

  There were the usual sounds of fists smacking vinyl heavy bags and grunts as Danny Dynamo - he had to be 65 years old by now — was taking his leg day seriously with some deep balls out squats.

  Roger was nowhere in sight, but Larry was in the corner with a new young guy. Cameron stared, he looked familiar, he stood an inch above Roger’s 6’ and he had a scar that ran thick and wide from the left pectoral muscle up about four inches and stopped just under the indent of his neck.

  Anyone new around his girl raised his hackles. When she was here he was on task like a secret service agent protecting the commander-in-chief.

  This new guy looked like a mid-rate fighter, tats of course. Probably Irish if the two four leaf clovers and ‘Lucky Charms’ Old English ink across his belly was any indication of ethnicity. There was nagging familiarity, and Cameron couldn’t help but store away every detail of the dark haired newbie as he scanned the rest of the gym.

  Cameron’s own training session with Reggie started in an hour. His fight with Jake Rashney was still on, even though Reggie protested. Reggie fretted like a mother hen. He thought something was up; Jake had been known to fight dirty and he won almost every fight by knock out.

  Reggie warned Cameron. Jake came out like a battering ram and if you were off your game by a split second, the last thing you would remember is the slick, toxic green of his mouth guard as he pulled his lips back and sunk you with a couple head shots that left you struggling to hold in your own shit.

  Word on the street was Cameron had moved into a different league since he returned from his little retreat out west. Jake fought raw, but not incredibly trained, and Cameron was a machine built from steel and thunder, cold but deadly and with world class training behind him.

  Outside in the car before they came into the gym that morning, Cameron put Victoria through her paces.

  “Phone.” Cameron put the car in neutral, Victoria’s hands were already inside her messenger bag pulling out the new iPhone he bought her. He liked the iMessage texting feature better than her old Galaxy. He wanted to know if his texts were delivered and read and when. He wanted to put the iTrack app on there, but when she pushed back, he caved and let her off on that one.

  “You’re obsessed. If I didn’t know you better, I would say you were becoming an abusive boyfriend.” She smiled as she dangled the new phone sarcastically in front of his face, showing him the battery was charged and slipped it into her pocket.

  “So, what are you going to do if anything out of the ordinary happens? ANYTHING.”

  “Call you or leave. I know, do we have to do this every morning?”

  “Yep. There are lots of things we are going to do every morning, you know that by now.”

  He wrapped his hand around her neck, his thumb tracing a line around the tag on her necklace. Less than an hour ago he seated himself inside her as she bent over in the shower screaming so loud his ears were ringing as he drank his second cup of coffee. There was no better way to start the day.

  “You have your car keys?”

  “YES. I have them. I don’t know why, you barely let me drive myself anywhere.”

  “What are you talking about? I let you move your car to a different spot every day. Besides, you’ve got me to drive you around. Your car is just for emergency getaways or pre-approved outings.”

  “Right, wow. Yep, that’s independence for you. I feel so grown up.” She gave him a wink, but there was a hint of pout in her voice.

  “Don’t start. I get that it’s new for you — having someone that takes it fucking seriously that you are safe. More than safe — secure, happy, content, and righteously fucked every damn day — I’m as serious as a damn heart attack, Vic. You get that by now. Taking care of you is a lot of fucking work. Trust me, you’re wearing my ass out.” Cameron gave her neck a squeeze, reminding her of how he introduced her to a bit of rougher play last night.

  He felt his blood warm as her cheeks flushed pink, and her eyes dilated. She was so fucking beautiful, and the innocence still drove him crazy. But, as innocent as she was about her new life between the sheets, she had taken to it like a cougar on the hunt.

  “Do you ever think it’s ironic that you do all this stuff to keep anyone from hurting me, but —” Her cheeks turned a deep shade of ruby red and her voice fell to a whisper like someone was in the back seat listening. “— then there’s the stuff we do. It kind of hurts me —”

  She was teasing him, testing the waters, and it only made the thickening in his crotch more uncomfortable.

  “Uh
huh. You know the fucking difference. Besides, if I remember correctly, you had no problem up-ending yourself last night and begging Daddy to give you a nice red ass.”

  “Sssshhhh!!! God!” Victoria dropped her head and shook her hair into her face.

  “What? It’s all good, babygirl. I knew you were going to be the perfect freak, don’t ever be embarrassed. It’s just us, don’t you ever be embarrassed around me. I love that about you. I love everything about you. That stuff we do, that’s about bringing you closer to me. It’s about trust; I’ll never take you too far, but you know how close you feel to me when I fuck you just right. Everything we do is because I fucking love you.”

  It was the first time he spoke the words, but it didn’t surprise him. It wasn’t planned. He couldn’t remember ever thinking about saying it or not saying it.

  Cameron lived in each moment like its own universe and right now apparently was the right time for him to verbalize what she must already know.

  “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” He didn’t want her to say anything back to him. He just needed her to know without a doubt that what he held in his heart for her was cement, not sand.

  He walked into the back door, his arm draped around her shoulders.

  “See you tonight.” Victoria’s eyes darted down the hall.

  “You don’t want anyone to see me with my arm around you? Is that it?”

  “No, I just don’t want it to be so public is all.”

  “Uh huh. Well, that bubble is about to burst, babygirl, I’m about done with this subtle bullshit.”

  “Fine, just a little longer. At least until Thanksgiving, then maybe we can tell everyone. Maybe on a holiday, it would be nice. Have a nice dinner, then you can bend me over the cranberry sauce and show them instead of tell them.”

  “That’s my girl.” He gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before dropping his arms to his sides and holding the door open.