by B. B. Hamel
I realized dimly that I was becoming the kind of girl that let a guy she shouldn’t be anywhere near finger her in public, but I couldn’t stop it. The thrill ran through me, violent spikes of pleasure. I loved being that kind of girl, especially if it made me feel so good.
“I will,” he whispered in my ear. “I will get you off, here and now, just because I love that little whimper you make as you come.”
“I don’t whimper,” I gasped, but I knew he had me. I couldn’t argue. My hands grasped hard on to his biceps, gripping his hug arms.
“But you do, at least for me. You moan like you can’t get enough of it. You moan like you’re begging for more.”
My lips parted, and a low, soft whine escaped my lips. What the hell was I doing? My whole mind was on fire because of him, because of every dirty word he said, every incredible move he made.
I knew I was going to come. I knew I was because he could play me like an instrument. My body was vibrating for him, and I realized that it had been forever since I had first seen him.
“Alexa?”
We stopped, both of us frozen in a moment of fear. And then his fingers were gone, slipped from my jeans.
“Alexa? Cole?” Lacey was standing near the parking lot, looking around, but she hadn’t seen us yet.
“Hey,” I called, walking over to her. I took a few deep breaths and caught Cole sucking his finger, laughter clearly in his eyes.
Lacey turned and waved. “What up, girl!”
“Are you drunk?”
“A little drunk, yes. I am drunk.” She walked over, a little unsteady on her feet. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she had gone inside, but she must have done some serious work to get a strong buzz on so quickly.
I laughed and shook my head. “How’s it going in there?”
“Oh yeah,” she said, like she was just remembering the whole reason we were there. “I got the scoop.”
Cole showed up behind me, his arms crossed. “Well?”
“Well,” Lacey said, “I went in there. It’s this, like, Republican fundraiser or something? Lots of old people. Everyone looks real fancy. Anyway, I sat at the bar, did a little flirting. Did you know that Ronald Reagan was a famous movie star before he was president?”
Cole stifled a laugh.
“You flirted with old people?” I said, surprised.
“No!” she replied quickly, laughing. “No, with the bartender. He’s real cute. Anyway, eventually I told him that I was looking to hire someone on his staff to take pictures for a magazine that I work for.”
“Smart,” I said.
“I know. And he was all like, ‘oh, we don’t do that here, blah blah blah.’ I flirted some more, and eventually he admitted that this one waitress did that stuff sometimes, but not often.”
“And?” Cole grunted, eager.
“Well, apparently she quit not too long ago. Here’s her name.” She handed me a little slip of paper that I pushed into my pocket.
I gave Cole a look and he nodded.
“Thanks, Lacey,” I said. “You’re incredible.”
“Yeah, I really am. Anyway, I’m going back in. I think I’m going to get that guy’s number?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Lace, we’re going to head out.”
“Cool. I’ll call a cab.”
Cole gave me an amused look, but I just shook my head. “You’re insane, you know that?” I said to her
“Yeah, bitch, but he’s so cute!”
She hugged me and then turned and walked back toward the entrance. I waved to her and she waved back, disappearing inside.
Cole stared at me, and I just shrugged. “I guess she’s having fun in there.”
“I guess so.”
We looked at each other and then burst out laughing as we walked back toward the car. I was elated and excited all at once. Finally, something was going our way.
We had a lead.
12
Cole
I wanted to rush right out there, track the waitress down, and bust through her door, but Alexa talked me out of it. Apparently you can’t just intimidate everyone around you. Apparently the world doesn’t work that way. At least according to Alexa, anyway.
My world worked that way. Everyone else was just catching up.
Instead, we were going to sit and think for the night. At least, that’s what she was going to do. As soon as we were home, the feel of Alexa’s pussy still fresh on my fingers, I followed her up to her room.
I couldn’t get that noise she made out of my head. It was half whine, part whimper, and all fucking sexy as hell. It drove me crazy the way her body responded to my every touch.
But as soon as we were home, it was like the damn spell was broken.
“No way,” she said as she went into her room.
“No what?”
“Forget about what happened out there. That was a mistake.”
I laughed at her, shaking my head. She was completely unbelievable.
“After all this, you’re still saying it’s a mistake? Your body disagrees with you.”
“Yeah, well, my body isn’t always right.”
My grin got bigger. “So you admit you’re fucking wet for me constantly? That you can’t be near me without wanting me to sink my cock deep between your legs?”
“No!” she said quickly. “That’s not what I’m saying,”
“What are you saying then?” I said, practically a whisper. Her mouth hung open, and I could tell she was frustrated.
“I’m saying that, uh, I’m saying that you’re an asshole.”
“Clever.”
I could practically smell the desire on her.
“Just go do some sit-ups or something,” she mumbled.
“We got interrupted. I was just about to let you come nice and hard on my fingers. Now you want to stop?”
“Look,” she said, pushing her door shut. “We’re married. We’re stepsiblings. We’re being blackmailed. Do you really think it’s a great idea to get involved?”
“Not getting involved. Just getting you off.”
She frowned and shook her head. “Whatever. Same thing.”
I put my hand on the door. “I know you’re just going to be in there finishing the job I started.”
“Good night, Cole.”
I let her push the door shut. I stood there leaning against the frame, my cock hard as fuck, straining against my pants, begging me to throw open the door and catch her knuckle-deep in her own pussy.
Instead, I reached down my shorts and began to slowly stroke myself. I imagined her slowly grabbing her breast, cupping it gently as she slipped a finger below her panties and began to rub herself. Of course it felt good, but it was just a shadow of what I made her feel.
She’d throw the door open and drag me inside, begging me for it. And once she got down on her knees and said please, I’d push her over all the way and lick her pussy from behind until she was screaming.
I began to jerk myself, thinking about plunging my cock deep into her soft little cunt, fucking her rough and hard from behind. I knew she’d love it, knew she’d beg me to fuck her snatch hard and deep. I’d slap her ass, leaving a handprint, and pull her nice thick hair until she made that gasping moaning noise that drove me inside.
I could see her coming hard, her whole body shaking as my cock thrust deep into her, pounding and plunging into her tender spot. I wanted her hips to buck back against my cock, greedy for every thick inch.
My brain was buzzing with thoughts of fucking her rough and hard as I jerked myself. I swore I could hear her moaning softly inside the room.
And then I caught it, my name, barely a whisper but definitely a moan.
That sent me over the edge. She was in there rubbing her clit and moaning my name, and we both knew it. The orgasm rocked my body, and I came right then and there, my hand working up my length.
I put my forehead against the cool wood of the door.
What the fuck was wrong wit
h me, jerking off in the hallway like some fucking pervert?
And then I heard it again, my name, moaned out loud.
I smirked to myself as I went to the bathroom to clean off.
* * *
I didn’t see much of Alexa the next morning.
I was itching to track the waitress down, but I had promised not to make any moves without her input. I figured I could wait at least a little bit longer before I did anything. The waitress didn’t know we were looking for her, and besides, I’d been missing a lot of training time.
So I hit the gym. Three hours of hard work was exactly what I needed. I craved the sweet exhaustion of a solid workout, wanted my muscles to be sore and tired. Hard work could clear my mind, get me in the zone to really get my shit done.
I was just finishing up when my phone started ringing. Normally I wouldn’t answer in the middle of a workout, but it was Ronnie. I hadn’t heard from him since my fight.
“Ronnie,” I said, answering.
“Hey, man. How’s things?”
“Things are good. Just doing a workout.”
“Damn, sorry I interrupted.”
“No worries, brother. What’s going on?”
“Got a little question for you,” he said, sounding a little tense.
“What’s the matter?”
I leaned up against the mirrored wall, breathing deeply, getting my heartrate under control. I could tell something was bothering him already, but I had no clue what it could be. Did he know something about the blackmail?
No way. That just wasn’t Ronnie’s style. Plus, he was probably my closest friend, though I didn’t have too many of those left.
“It’s about Trent.”
I let out a breath. “That fucker.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“What is it? Just fucking spit it out already.”
“Yeah, well, he heard about your fight the other night.”
“Good.”
“He wants a match, man.”
I laughed, a thrill running through me. “That’s fucking awesome!”
Ronnie let out a noncommittal grunt. I had no clue what his problem was, but I couldn’t have been happier. Trent had been having some success lately, which meant he would be a great match for me. He didn’t need to fight me since I was technically below his level still, but I knew that I had the skills to take him on.
“I think it’s a bad idea, man,” Ronnie said.
“And why the fuck would you think that?”
“Fucking think about it, man.”
“What’s there to think about? Trent is a piece of shit cocksucker, and I want to beat his ass in front of everyone.”
“Yeah, that’s all well and good, but that’s the problem. You’re too emotional when it comes to him.”
“I’m not emotional. I just don’t like the guy.”
“Didn’t used to be like that.”
“Yeah, well, it is now.”
Back in the day, I used to spar with Trent regularly. We were friends, maybe not best friends, but I liked the guy. We trained in the same gym and worked with the same coach, and so we were around each other all day every day.
But Trent was a hothead, even more than I was, if that could even be believed. He went off all the time, like a fucking psycho, when things didn’t go his way. Actually, he was like a little baby throwing a temper tantrum.
But that wasn’t what bothered me, not really. True, he was annoying, and it pissed me off that he could get away with acting like a spoiled little bitch sometimes. That alone wasn’t enough to make me despise the guy, though.
What happened was, one day we were sparring. The usual shit, the usual rules. We weren’t supposed to try to fucking kill each other since it was just a friendly little match to hone our skills.
That said, I may have landed a blow I shouldn’t have. It was definitely a little too stiff, a little too tough, and it caught him right on the chin. It was a mistake, the kind of mistake that I’d made a hundred times before, the kind of mistake he made just the day before. We hit each other too hard sometimes, and normally we’d just laugh it off. We weren’t fucking pussies, after all. We didn’t need to have a crying session every time someone accidentally got hurt.
But for whatever reason, that time Trent couldn’t handle it. He went off, screaming and yelling, but instead of getting his shit together, he got violent. When I tried to walk away, he punched me in the back of the head, knocking me to the ground. He kicked me in the face, twice, and ended up knocking out some teeth.
The other guys pulled him away and had to hold me back when I finally got to my feet, mouth bloody, head spinning. Trent was thrown out of the gym for that, but he didn’t stop fighting. Ever since that day, though, I had hated the motherfucker, and I had been praying for the day when I could pay him back for his cowardly fucking bullshit.
“Do you blame me for being close to this?” I said. “You remember what happened. You were there.”
“Yeah, fuck, I was. It was brutal and fucked up, man.”
“And now I want to do that exact same to him, but in the fucking ring.”
Ronnie sighed, and I felt my anger rushing through me. I breathed deeply, just like Skad had taught me out in the jungle, and calmed myself.
“The thing is, Trent isn’t the same hotheaded idiot you hated a year ago. He’s got some decent skills right now.”
“You think I’d lose to him?”
Ronnie laughed. “Fuck no. Not after what I saw the other night. But it’s early days for you, man, real early days. You should be building up your resume before you get involved in some prime-time prize fight.”
“What, are you my fucking manager now?”
“No, but I should be. You know I’m right, man.”
I sighed, wanting to punch the mirror. I knew Ronnie was just looking out for me, but it still pissed me off.
I wasn’t the kind of man to back down from a fight. In MMA, the only reason you wouldn’t take a match was because you didn’t want to fight down to someone’s level or the purse was just too small. It was a business, after all.
But if the purse was decent for the Trent fight, I was taking it.
“Thanks anyway,” I told him, “but I’m going to take the fight.”
“Okay, man. Do what you want. I think it’s the wrong move, but I’m in your corner no matter what.”
“So when will I hear about this?”
“No clue. I just heard the rumor, is all. I bet your manager will have news soon.”
“Okay then. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Everything else good with you?”
“All good. You?”
“Same. I’ll let you get back to it.”
I said goodbye and we hung up. I leaned up against the mirror and felt my heart beating steadily in my chest.
For the last year, as I stressed and trained and worked for Skad out in the jungle, the image of beating the fuck out of Trent on live television kept me going. It motivated me, made me hungry, made me learn every new technique and skill that Skad could teach me.
I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Ronnie was right, I should have been busy building up my resume, getting back into the game. I may have been stronger and more skilled than Trent, but that didn’t mean a win was absolutely going to happen. Truthfully, it was a real possibility that I could lose, and a loss to someone like Trent so early in my career could cripple me.
But the imagine of pounding his fucking face bloody, over and over and over, kept playing through my head as I finished my workout.
I knew what I’d do. If the opportunity presented itself, I wasn’t going to back down. I just wasn’t that kind of guy.
* * *
I wasn’t off the phone for more than twenty minutes when Alexa came downstairs. I had just finished the last set of my workout and was drinking some water, cooling off, when she tentatively came down the steps.
“You decent?” she called out.
“It’s
a fucking home gym, not a bath house,” I said.
She came down the steps and crossed her arms. “I never know with you.”
“What, do you think I’m going to be down here doing squats with my cock out?”
“No,” she said, smiling.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d love to see me all naked and lifting weights.”
“No, thanks. Can’t imagine anything worse, actually.”
“What can I do for you then?”
She leaned up against a machine as I wiped a towel across my brow. I noticed her staring at my muscles and smirked, but I decided not to say anything. Let her stare; I knew what she wanted.
“About the waitress,” she started.
“Finally ready to let me do my thing?”
“No, not at all. Not after you went crazy on that reporter.”
“Paparazzi. He was a reporter like I’m the fucking Pope.”
“Fine, whatever. I don’t want you scaring this girl off.”
“Please, princess. I don’t scare the ladies. I entice them.”
She burst out laughing, and I grinned at her, flexing.
“Super enticing,” she said, smiling and laughing along as I continued to pose.
“Come on, look at these fucking guns,” I said, playing it up.
“I’m sure she’d be all over you if only you flexed like that all the time.”
“Girl, this isn’t all I got.”
“Please, no more. You’re driving me wild,” she said sarcastically.
I laughed and cut it out, moving closer to her and leaning up against the wall. “What’s your idea then?”
“Last time we got information just by being smart and asking around. Maybe this time we try a similar approach.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“Well, we got the girl’s name and I did a little research. Marla Stone lives near here. I already looked her up and got most of her info through Facebook and Twitter.”
“Damn Internet,” I mumbled. “People put basically fucking anything up there.”
“Good for us that they do.”
“Okay, so we know who the girl is. What now?”