A Fighter's Love

by Lily Harlem

  “Oh God…” Dale groaned then stilled. “That…is…it.”

  “So fucking sexy,” Jackson said by his ear.

  Another long groan. Dale came inside her. His eyes were closed and his lips drawn back. He tipped his head to the ceiling. “Ahhhh…”

  Jackson was pressed up against them, his hand still under Jenny’s buttocks. His opposite shoulder was shifting, as he pumped his fingers in and out of Dale’s ass.

  Dale’s hips were twitching in time with Jackson’s movements. He was still coming. His groans rattled through his chest onto hers.

  She cupped his face as bliss washed over his features.

  Eventually Jackson stilled.

  Dale opened his eyes.

  It seemed to take him a moment to focus.

  “Hey,” she said, kissing the sore spot on his cheek.

  He was breathing hard and when she pulled back, Jackson was there to kiss him too.

  “That was fucking hot,” Jackson said. “You two are as on fire together as I thought you’d be. I couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

  “I could tell,” Dale said. “You could have warned me.”

  “Why? It’s more fun when it’s unexpected.” Jackson grinned and stepped back, away from them. He reached for a bar of soap.

  Dale gently withdrew and lowered Jenny to the floor.

  She kept her hands on his face.

  “You okay?” he asked, touching his nose to hers.

  “How could I not be? I’m in the shower with the two guys I adore most in the world. Feels pretty perfect.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” He kissed her.

  “Mmm, perfect is a good word.” Jackson moved in behind her and cupped her breasts. The soapy scent of suds drifted up. When she looked down her breasts were covered in white bubbles and he was massaging them.

  “Need to clean you up, dirty girl,” he said against her ear then nipped her lobe.

  She squirmed and giggled.

  Dale pressed close, trapping her against Jackson. He began to rub her breasts too and she shut her eyes and sighed.

  She didn’t think she’d ever get enough of being between them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Friday came around too quickly for Jenny. Her anxiety about the big fight had grown with each passing day. It was as if seeing Dale in the ring with Billy—and his cuts and bruises afterward—had made it all the more real for her.

  Jackson and Grinder were going to have a good try at pummeling each other to knockout.

  She left Wainwright and Bramon’s a little later than planned, then had to rush to get home, shower, eat, and make her way to the gym. Although the fight wasn’t due to start until ten o’clock she had to be there when doors opened at eight.

  “Hey,” Billy said as she stepped in. He wore smart trousers and a white shirt and blue tie. But even dressed civilly nothing could hide his beaten up face with its fading bruises and dark scab on his brow.

  “Hello, Billy.” She smiled, a little, and hoped he’d stick to his word and not hassle her anymore, or presume he still had a chance. It was the last thing she needed now when her worries were all about Jackson getting through the fight with as little damage as possible to his beautiful body.

  “The bar staff are set up,” he said. “And I’m going to be on the door for the first hour.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” She nodded and tightened her grip on her bag.

  “Jenny,” he said, catching her arm.

  Her belly clenched and she snatched in a breath.

  He glanced at his hand stretched around her pale pink sweater, then released her. “Sorry.”

  She said nothing.

  “Sorry, not just for that…” He nodded at her arm. “But you know…for it all. I fucked up.”

  “It takes two people to make a relationship go wrong, Billy. I should never have let it go on for so long. I wasn’t happy. I should have fixed that sooner.”

  He frowned. “I know I’ll never get a chance to, not now you’re with Dale.” He paused, closed his eyes for a second, as if the words had been hard to say. “But for the record, I’d do it differently another time around. I was an arsehole when you’d already been through so much shit. That was the last thing you needed.”

  “We’ve both been through our fair share of crap.” She smiled sadly. “And now it’s time to move on and find happiness. It will happen for you, I’m sure.”

  He huffed. “Well, let’s just get through tonight, huh. A Jackson win would make my bank balance pretty fucking happy.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it would.” She turned and walked away. Billy would indeed be happy if Jackson won and it would be mainly about the money, though it would bring kudos to the club. She’d be happy if Grinder didn’t turn up.

  After placing her bag in the office and then locking the door, she went to the makeshift bar. Several early punters were drinking pints and talking boxing.

  “Hi, everything okay?” she asked the head barman.

  He looked up from slicing limes. “Yeah, fine. Brought an extra pair of hands. I figured as the match is a sellout it’s going to be busy.”

  “Good thinking.” As she’d spoken several loud voices came from the door.

  A group of fifteen or so guys spilled in, clearly looking forward to a few drinks before the match. Given it was also the end of the working week, spirits would be high.

  “If you need anything, just shout, I’ll be around.”

  “Will do, thanks.” He nodded then turned to a customer.

  Mohawk stepped next to her. “Hey Jen, you got money on?”

  “No, I’m not a betting girl.”

  “Ah, shame, I reckon you’d make some on Jackson. He’s on fire.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yeah. Peak form. Michael’s really worked him hard.”

  “But Grinder—”

  “Grinder’s a dirty fighter, I know. But with McKillen as ref, he won’t get away with it.”

  His words calmed her a fraction. “You really don’t think so?”

  “Nah, one below the belt and he’ll be pulled up.”

  “I hope so.” She stifled a shudder. The thought of Jackson getting a hard whack ‘below the belt’ wasn’t a pleasant one.

  “Pint, please,” Mohawk said, signaling a barman.

  Quickly, and before the crowds built, Jenny checked the two podiums set between the ring and the wall. One was for the two judges who were due to arrive at nine thirty, and the other for a reporter she’d organized.

  She then wandered in the direction of the changing rooms. Each fighter had been given one. The female one, which was barely ever used and contained some of Billy’s musical equipment boxed up, had a sign over the door. Grinder and Support Only. The other changing room had Jackson and Support Only.

  Jenny wouldn’t usually go into the male changing rooms, but tonight was different. And besides, it would only be Jackson getting naked in there and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen that before.

  She pushed in.

  Jackson sat on the bench on the far side of the room. He was wearing faded jeans and a white t-shirt.

  Dale was on the phone, pacing as he spoke to someone.

  “Hey, you okay?” she asked, letting the door close.

  Jackson smiled. “Better for seeing you.”

  She hurried to sit next to him and took his hand. “Where’s Michael?”

  “He’ll be here in a minute, then I’ll get changed and warmed up.” He tapped the side of his head. “Get this warmed up too and into my fighting headspace.”

  She drew his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “Be careful.”

  “Babe, I’ve got no intention of losing this fight. Grinder is going down.”

  “I know. You’re much better than him. This is your fight.”

  “Too damn right it is,” Dale said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek as he tucked his phone away. “You holding up, Jenny?”

  “Of course. It’s Ja
ckson I’m worried about.”

  “No need.” Jackson stood and placed his hands on his hips, stared at the door. “I’m ready for this shit.” He banged his right fist into his left palm. “And I need it now. Don’t worry about me. That’s why I’ve trained, so no one needs to worry.” He swung his gaze to Dale.

  Jenny wondered if Dale had had a similar conversation with Jackson.

  “I’m only worried about Grinder,” Dale said. “Poor son of a bitch doesn’t know what he’s let himself in for.” He stepped up to Jackson and cupped his face. “You will be victorious. You will win.”

  “And we’ll be there in your corner,” Jenny said, moving to them and slipping her arms around both of their waists. “Cheering you on with our hearts and souls.”

  Jackson’s mouth was a tight straight line. His eyes were narrowed but she could see they were sparkling with emotion. He’d said he needed to get into his fighting headspace, but from what she could see, he was already there.

  Dale stroked over Jackson’s hair then kissed him lightly.

  The door opened.

  Jackson snapped away and turned.

  Michael stepped in.

  Dale dragged Jenny close and kissed her.

  She looped her hands around his neck, and pressed against him.

  “Bloody hell, get a room,” Michael muttered, stepping past them and dumping a gym bag on the bench.

  “Yeah, gov, we will later,” Dale said, chuckling. “And it’ll be so much fun.”

  “Wish I had the energy,” Michael said.

  Dale leaned to Jenny’s ear. “I’ll have Jackson’s back out there. You don’t have to watch.”

  “Yes. Yes I do.”

  “As long as it’s not going to upset you.”

  “No, I’ll be okay.” She had to be. This was what she’d signed up for with her two lovers. They were fighters. It’s what they did.

  She pulled in a breath. It was time to leave them to it. The last thing she wanted was for Jackson to be concerned about her. He had more important things to do—like not get beaten to a pulp.

  “I’m going to go see how Billy is coping on the door.”

  Dale frowned. “Has he been okay with you?”

  “Perfectly polite. I think he’s got the hint that I’m yours now.”

  “Too damn right you are.” He swept his lips over hers and gave her ass a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you later then. Don’t leave this place without me.”

  “I won’t.”

  Jackson had stripped down to his boxers. For a moment she paused and admired his body.

  Her hands itched to touch him but she couldn’t, not with Michael there. How would it look if she were seen to be with Jackson and Dale?

  But I am. At some point I’ll have to face that. Or will I keep it a secret, the way Stella does?

  “Break a leg,” she said, winding her hands over themselves. “Can I say that for boxing?”

  “It’ll do.” Jackson reached out and caught her hands, stilling her movements. A smile tugged at the right side of his mouth. “Thanks for all you’ve done to make tonight happen.”

  She resisted the urge to say she wished it wasn’t happening, because that wasn’t what Jackson needed to hear. “So make it count.”

  “I will. You fucking bet I will.”

  “Time to go, Miss Jenny.” Michael shoved a pair of shiny purple shorts between them. “This boy’s gonna get naked and I’m sure you don’t wanna see that.”

  Jackson raised his eyebrows and the smile tugging his lips grew into a grin. “She might.”

  “And her boyfriend might give you a black eye before you’ve even stepped into the ring.”

  “Hey, I’m going.” Jenny held up her hands and laughed. “You all get ready to kick Grinder’s butt.”

  She quickly left the changing room.

  As the sky darkened and the bar filled with a raucous, excited crowd, Jenny kept tabs on things, ensuring it all was going smoothly.

  “Excuse me, are you Jenny Jones?”

  “Yes.” Jenny smiled at the tall, elegant woman standing before her. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she wore a silky white blouse—open a button too far—and a short black skirt with strappy heels. Her eyes were emerald green and her lips scarlet. She was definitely a shining light of glamour in an otherwise male dominated room.

  “Great. I’m Melanie Treadstone. We spoke on the phone.”

  “Ah, yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Are you still doing the You Tube thing as well as commentary?” Jenny ran her hand over her hair, then smoothed her sweater, wondering if she should have glammed up for the event. Truth was, her head had been too full of worries to think about fashion.

  “Yes.” She nodded at a guy to her right who held a small camera, the strap looped over his knuckles. “Film and commentary. We’re all set.”

  “Great, Jackson and Grinder have both agreed to it. Did you get the contracts I emailed?”

  “I did.”

  Jenny nodded at the ring, which was beginning to get quite a crowd around it. Everyone wanted a good view of the action. “I’ve set up a small podium, between the ring and the wall. It’s roped off and elevated. Should give you the height your camera needs plus you won’t get jostled. There a mic there too.’”

  “That’s great.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry we’re a bit late, traffic was murder. It’s nearly time to get this fight underway.”

  “It is.” Jenny swallowed and was glad she’d had a glass of wine to steady her nerves. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No, we’ll head over there now. Do you want me to do a build up? Welcome the crowd.”

  “If you can.”

  “Yes, of course I can. I love boxing. Been looking forward to this fight. And between you and me, I wouldn’t push Jackson O’Brian out of bed on a cold night. That guy has a body made for worshipping.” She giggled.

  “Er, no…me neither.” Jenny frowned. A shard of possessiveness went through her. She didn’t want other women ogling her man, thinking about fucking him. He belonged to her and Dale.

  But of course women, from all corners of the globe, if he continued to rise to fame in the boxing world, would admire him. He was hot, talented and sexy as hell. It was something she’d have to get used to.

  Melanie slipped into the crowd. Within a minute she was on the podium, holding a microphone. “Testing. Testing.” Her voice rang around the gym. Then she turned to the audience, raised her hand and swept her gaze over the room. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the place to be this Friday night. Coming up we have the fight everyone has been waiting for. The fight to end the bitter dispute over who is the best fighter in the East End. Jackson O’Brian or Grinder Black?” She paused as the crowd cheered and huddled closer to the ring.

  Jenny stayed back, and leaned against the office door. She didn’t need to see gory details.

  “It’s judgement day,” Melanie went on. “And tonight you’re all going to witness the most anticipated fight this club has seen in a long time. The winner will go on to fight again, moving up the prestigious ranks. Perhaps all the way, to heavyweight champion of the world. And you, my friends,” she grinned and pointed around the room, “will be able to say you were here, tonight, when history was made.”

  Another wild round of applause. Cheering, too.

  “So now, without further ado,” Melanie shouted as she strutted on her podium. “Let’s get ready to rumble.”

  The audience stamped and clapped. The vibrations were rushing through Jenny. She pressed her hand to her chest as the changing room door opened.

  Grinder’s trainer stood there wearing a grim expression. Behind him Grinder loomed tall and wide. He had a thick black beard and a shiny bald head with a red tattoo of the devil’s face at his temple.

  Jenny swallowed down a bite of fear. Sure she’d known what he looked like, had seen images of him. But in real life, he appeared to be a cross between an axe-murderer and a pirate.r />
  “I give to you, wearing red, Grinder Black, official weight one hundred and eighty-nine pounds, with a professional record of eighteen victories, three knockouts, and two draws.”

  Sudden thumping music filled the gym and the lights dimmed so the ring was in spotlight.

  Grinder stepped into the room, the crowd parting to let him through.

  Jenny lost sight of him as he made his way through the mass of people. The noise was deafening and rang in her ears.

  Then he was in the ring. He held his arms up, showing off a mass of black underarm hair, and paced around, as if claiming his territory.

  Fear seemed to infiltrate every one of Jenny’s cells. The man was a monster. He’d been bad mouthing Jackson to anyone who’d listen. And although boxers did that, what he said and how he said it was nasty and personal.

  The cheering and stomping died down.

  The music went off.

  “And now,” Melanie yelled, “the man tipped for great things, if he can handle the heat tonight. I give to you Jackson O’Brian.”

  Before she could say any more the crowd erupted.

  She held up her hand and the noise calmed a fraction. “He’s officially at one hundred and eighty-two pounds, and with an impressive record of twenty-two victories, five knockouts and no draws. In purple, please give your best welcome to Jackson O’Brian.” She gestured to the changing room door.

  Jackson stood there with a bright light shining on him. He wore purple silk shorts with a wide black belt. His upper body glowed with strength and his face was set in the most determined expression she’d ever seen.

  He stepped out. The beat of the music seemed to shake the room as he made his way to the ring.

  Dale and Michael were close behind him. And when Jackson got into the ring she saw them talking in the corner.

  “And his home crowd loves him!” Melanie shouted, turning to the camera. “And what’s not to love.”

  Love.

  Jenny’s heart was beating wildly. She did love Jackson. Dale too. Oh, but what if something happened? A few years ago she’d seen Billy have his life changed during a fight. Since then she’d avoided watching matches. But today she couldn’t. She had to be there.

  She also had to accept it was what the men she was in love with did. That was never going to change.