by V. Theia
“Is that who you’re betting on?” Axel had to poke a little and chuckled when both men turned their gazes on him.
“I don’t bet.”
“No? You’re missing out on the fun then. I put a few down on your boy.” Playing nice. He didn’t want to lose on a fight that wasn’t 100% guaranteed.
Some joker in a prissy boy suit started yelling in the crowd and the three men switched their gazes. “Get the fuck on with the fight for fucks sake!”
This went on for a few minutes. The guy grew more agitated.
Rider split off and slid through the crowd. Axel and Jamie followed in time to see Rider with his hand clamped on the rowdy fucker’s shoulder. Didn’t take a genius to know Rider was putting pressure on the hold. “Now, I already told you, the fight starts when it starts. Either shut your fuckin’ mouth and enjoy the night or you can get out and you won’t be allowed back again.”
“I paid my fucking money to get in.” the guy snarled.
Axel whistled. “It’s like he doesn’t know who he’s talking to.”
Jamie added with a chuckle. “Kids today, man.” He toked the last of the joint and found somewhere to stub it out.
Axel set his eyes over the crowd to look for Roux, scowling when he immediately didn’t catch her black ponytail anywhere.
Something happened to make Axel turn back, right as Rider reacted, almost breaking the guy’s arm off. He and Jamie moved in on instinct, but Rider had it handled. “I was getting my smokes.” He screamed in pain. Rider slid his hand into the inside pocket and came out with a switchblade. “Last I checked, you can’t smoke this.” He tossed the knife to one of his prospects and got in the guy’s face. “You know who I am?”
“I could give a fuck. Paid my money, I deserve respect, not to have my fucking wrist broke.”
Rider grinned.
The guy was screwed.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re in my fuckin’ world, you deserve less than shit. Come back again and you won’t walk out alive, you hearing me? Come anywhere near my town, your family will need five coffins to bury your pieces.” He turned to his prospects. “Take out the trash.”
“Gladly, Prez.” They carted him out, protesting the whole way.
“Never a dull moment, Rider.” Laughed Jamie. “Thought we were about to dig a grave and miss the fight.”
“Nah. That’s what we have prospects for.” Rider smirked.
“Well, now that’s over, fellas. Let me buy you both a drink so I can discuss something with you.”
Three prez’s. A bottle of scotch. And an exchange about the Mexicans.
* * *
The air flew out of Roux’s mouth as her hands braced herself on the cold brick wall outside. She didn’t have a second to think when her legs were kicked wider, and she groaned as a hard body pressed up against her back.
A mouth she knew so well brushed her ear and her skin flamed.
“Think you can come into my place in skin-tight leather pants and not have me react, Cookie?”
The pants in question were being unbuttoned with a rough hand and she stood there as if she didn’t have the first fucking clue how arms and legs worked. Shaking with need, she almost whimpered.
He felt like a fire up against her back. His legs pressing the back of hers, pinning her in place. They’d played rough and fast before, but this felt wholly erotic and she wanted more.
“This isn’t your place.”
“Am I not a Souls? It’s my place, Cookie, and you came to it dressed to tease me, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she hissed the truth, arousal deepening her voice. Her black shirt was sheer and showed her lacy half-cup bra through it.
“I appreciate it, baby, you look stunning. This shirt has been driving me crazy.” A hand slid under the material and he went straight for her boob, squeezing and feeling the heaviness. God, she could come from that alone. But when he pulled down the cup of her bra and flicked her nipple, she was unable to stop her moans this time; she pressed her mouth to her forearm in hopes of stifling them.
“You knew I was here?”
“I watched you from the second you came in. This tight ass was made for my hands.” He bumped up against her and she’d be dead if she didn’t feel how hard he was. “My tough Cookie with her greedy eyes. Were you searching for me, baby?”
What was the point in lying? She had one reason to come with her father and that was Tad. “Yes.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t lie and say no because now I can do this.”
This was his hand moving around the front of her body, slipping into the tight confinement of her pants and his target was her pussy. When he pressed two long fingers along her slit, she about broke her back as she contorted. “Ah, fuck. Tad. Please.”
He chuckled, tempting her to scream with slow strokes.
“I saw you too.” Her insides were still knotted over seeing chicks swarmed around his group of bikers. “You didn’t seem like you were lacking in company.” She hissed. Jealousy seething out of her. She hated that she was jealous, hated that she couldn’t do anything about it.
“You didn’t like that?” He sounded pleased and Roux made a disturbed noise.
“Are you going home with one of those chicks?”
The pressure and weight of his body meant she couldn’t turn, and she desperately wanted to taste his lips or bite off his tongue depending on his answer.
“You can get your hand out of my pants if you are.”
“No, I’m not. Why would I when I have fucking perfection dripping on my fingers?”
God. God.
“Please…”
“Please what? Do this? Feel how soaked you get because your greedy eyes wanted me even when you couldn’t find me. Is that it, Cookie?” Up and down he went and then without notice he stole her breath by pushing those fingers inside her. They went in easy; she was a river of wetness in his hand. His palm, with every shove, rubbed against her clit and gave her stimuli inside and out.
“Yes, yes.” She cried into her arm. “Tad, don’t tease me.”
“You’re lucky that I want to make you come or I’d leave you aching for the stunt you pulled again by leaving my bed.”
His fingers rode in and they rode in deep. He aimed for her G-spot and made quick work of buckling her knees.
Hot breath against her neck, dirty words whispered in a deep rasp in her ear and a man so wicked and gorgeous finger fucking her until she came with a staggered inhale.
Roux wanted to claw the bricks off the wall as pleasure so acute blasted through her system.
“So wet for me, aren’t you? So, fucking ready.”
She wasn’t a screamer, but she felt the need to howl at the moon. On her come down he was already pulling his hand free and spinning her around. He got in her space. Her gorgeous Tad looked aroused and angry at the same time.
He was written for her, she thought, her brain going haywire.
This man, designed from her own imagination of what the perfect man for her would look like. A weak man would never have the chops to grab her up when she stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and pin her to a wall. A weak man would have gotten a punch in the throat if he dared get into her pants without permission.
Tad was her kind of assertive. He hit every sexy bossy level there is.
So close she saw the blackening of his eyes, he breathed on her lips and she prepared to be kissed, needing it. But he brought his wet fingers to her mouth, she gasped as he painted first her top lip and then the bottom in her juices.
If a weaker man who didn’t know her needs tried to do that, she’d probably punch his lights out, but this was Tad, and she felt wholly aroused by it.
He crushed her lips and her groan and kissed hell out of her. Rough and soft, long and teasing. His tongue became her master and she lived for the wet strikes he gave her. She tasted herself in his mouth as his tongue tangled around hers and it turned her on harder.
“Tad…pl
ease.”
“Please what? Fuck you here? My bad girl wants people to catch us?”
She didn’t deny the rush of heat to her pussy but that was because she wanted him to fuck her, not so much catching them.
Rolling her hands up his hard chest, she grasped him around the neck, and swallowed his grunt of surprise. Roux controlled the kiss this time and she fell into him as he groped her ass with hard squeezes.
“I want this ass.” He rasped into her lips.
Have it, she wanted to say. Take all of her. She was just this side of crazy enough to give him everything without anything in return.
“You always tasted forbidden, didn’t you, Cookie?”
“But I’m not.” She went for his tongue again and he gave it.
“Aren’t you?” He braced both hands on the wall near her head, their bodies fitting like puzzle pieces. “Aren’t you promised to someone else?”
She felt a little of her temper returning, misting out the soft pleasure as she heard the hardness in his voice. She didn’t try to pull away, this was too much of a drug being this close to him. “Does it matter? You just had your fingers inside me.”
“Don’t forget my cock inside you last night.”
Her breath caught at the memories. “Yes, and that too.”
He groaned then and dropped his forehead to hers like the fight had gone out of him. She slipped both of her arms around him and held on. Just held on.
“You have to give me something, Roux. Anything. If you’re engaged…”
“I’m not.” She blurted and watched his eyes burn. Possessiveness burned out of Tad and she wanted to put her body into the flames and see how long it took for him to incinerate her. “My father wants me to be with Reno. Something fucking crazy is going on. I don’t know what. I refused.”
After a second. “But they think you are? Reno thinks you’re his.”
“I belong to no one.” She said in a hard tone and he crushed her mouth, kissing until she ran out of air. She felt the lesson there, in his rough lips. He was telling her she did belong to someone. To him.
Her body softened into his and Tad brushed the few hairs that had escaped from her ponytail off her face.
“You better get back inside before I do fuck you right here.” She moaned and he flat out grinned. “I like that you like that idea, but inside, yeah? And Roux?”
“Yeah?” She answered, winded.
“After tonight, you better brace, okay?”
She blinked. And frowned. What the hell did that mean?
“Brace for what?”
He smirked, stepping away from her. And didn’t that dirty bastard suck those two fingers into his mouth. “Fucking delicious.”
“Tad, what does brace mean?”
“I’m going around back, baby. Get inside.” The asshole winked and strolled away leaving her none the wiser of what it meant.
It didn’t stop the excitement from blooming.
Hope for a tomorrow with him.
If she was a betting woman, she’d put all her chips on Tad.
FOURTEEN
“Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door.” - Tag
Butcher didn’t wince, but he did feel the hard punch Tag took to his already swollen face.
The fight so far had been brutal.
Five minute rounds felt as though they were never ending.
Tag held his own for the first round, but the Chicago guy gained momentum in the last few minutes. Butcher was wondering how much more pain Tag could take.
He cast a side glance with Capone who was looking equally worried.
It was the first cage fight they’d witnessed Tag struggling.
He didn’t always win easy, but it was never in any doubt that he would win.
“Jesus. I felt that.” Hissed Grinder through his teeth.
The crowd were loving it. They bayed noisily, wanting their piece of flesh, not caring whose.
When Tag threw two punches and a kick, the Chicago guy threw five heavy punches to the body and made Tag stumble on his feet. Next came a sequence of hits that curled Butcher’s belly. Fucking hell. He was gonna bleed out if he took much more. He looked at Rider. Tag would kill them all if they stopped the fight, but that’s what was needed. Their boy couldn’t take much more and keep on breathing. His trainer was outside of the cage yelling instructions.
A knee to the face.
A punch to the kidneys.
A second harder knee.
Collectively the row of Souls took a breath. If Tag won this shit, it would be a miracle. The crowd grew wild and someone pushed Butcher from behind. He nearly ripped their fucking head off and fortunately the guy backed off.
“Where the fuck is Arson, anyway? Think he’d be here for his boy.”
No one knew the answer to Pretty-Boy’s question. Arson has been disappearing more and more lately. But he always showed up for Tag’s fights in the past, those two have always been tight. Arson was the one to encourage Tag to pursue cage fighting. He helped with training him for months. And now he was a no show on the most important night of Tag’s fighting career.
While the underground fight scene followed some of the MMA rules, no one was giving the Chicago guy a strike for the throat punch he landed on Tag. He went down on one knee, in some breathing distress but he climbed back to his feet and the bad move seemed to urge him on because he ended that round like a fucking beast, raining blow after blow.
The second the bell rang to indicate a break; Butcher made his way around the cage to where Tag was sitting on a stool, his trainer wiping his face. “Tag, how’s the eye?” It was swollen shut and blood poured out of an eyebrow cut. “Still attached,” he joked with a pained wheeze.
“You sure about this? Maybe it’s time to quit.”
“Not quitting. Don’t fucking think about it, Butcher.”
Even the trainer grumbled.
Crazy fucker would go until he died.
“I got this. I can get him. I hurt him in that round.”
Butcher wasn’t so sure. Tag looked about dead on his feet when he bounced into the middle for the start of the final round.
“Man, this is not good,” Preacher whistled.
As much as he wanted Tag to win and walk away alive, Butcher took his gaze from the brawl in front of him and let it scan the room. The back of his neck had itched for a while now and he knew why. He found her watching him. A little devious smile on her lips as if to tell him, you found me.
God, this woman. Why was it her to tie him in knots? To send him to both heaven and hell. She was flanked by her father and Chains and the brothers Grimm on the other side of her. It locked fury in his throat when he watched Reno dip down to Roux’s ear and whisper something. She shook her head while still looking at Butcher.
That guy was so fucking dead.
It was Axel who caught his attention, staring back. Butcher rolled up a sarcastic brow in challenge. He’d rather have her father on side. But fuck him, if he got in his way this time.
Butcher’s scowl only turned to a grin when he saw Roux elbow Reno and spit words he couldn’t hear, but knowing her, it was something to make a sailor tremble.
That’s my good girl.
Butcher cut the stare from the angry fucker to check on his boy.
It was possibly Tag’s luckiest night.
Never had a fight been so vicious before on both sides.
But their boy got the win. Only just. And by submission.
The crowd went nuts. They loved Tag like a celebrity. Loved the money he won them more.
It only became apparent though that something was seriously wrong when Tag’s trainer tried to get him off the canvas to lift his arm in celebration when they heard a scream. It was Bucher who got to him first, the other boys close behind. He got down on his knees and helped the trainer turn Tag onto his back. He was breathing so heavily, blood pooling onto the canvas from his face.
The pain he was in became clear.
“Fuck. Fu
ck. I can’t…” Tag swore, and that’s when Butcher saw it. His cheek bone was no longer under his skin but protruding out at an angle that turned Butcher’s guts. Every part of Tag’s face was swollen, stretching the purple and bloody skin to capacity.
He was unrecognizable.
“I can’t see.” He groaned, wheezing. Flailing his arms out to steady himself. Both the trainer and Rider grabbed onto one to keep him steady.
There was fuck all Butcher could do other than try to stem some of the blood.
“Tag, we’re here.” He assured him, grabbing gauze from Pretty-Boy who was holding a medical bag. “Stay still a second.”
“I can’t see, man. I can’t fucking see anything.”
Shock went through them all.
While the place celebrated a fantastic night of fighting, the prospects kept everyone out of the cage, the boys guarding Tag.
“We need a hospital and now, Prez.” Butcher conveyed in a tight voice.
“Clear this fuckin’ place.” Rider demanded with force.
“I can’t see. Why the fuck can’t I see?”
“Don’t you worry about that, champ. We’re gonna get you taken care of.”
His face was a fucking mess, pure ground beef. Butcher couldn’t even attempt to pry open an eyelid to check his pupils’ reaction because they were so puffy.
“You’re gonna be okay.”
“Did I win?” He croaked.
“Yeah, man, you got him.” He looked over to Rider and mouthed, “need to move him now.”
“Good.” Tag took one more choking breath and then he passed out.
From the luckiest guy to the unluckiest in the matter of an hour.
The Souls then did what they did best, and they took care of one of their own.
It was well after 2 a.m. when he rolled his bike to a stop at the curb. Switching off the engine he turned his weary eyes to the dark two story house. Feeling as though he’d been through the wringer in the last few hours. He still smelled of Tag’s blood crusted dry to his clothes.
In need of sleep, the need for Roux was greater and he fished out his phone to answer the 7 texts she’d sent earlier.