by Shaye Marlow
The adrenaline that’d speared through me suddenly quieted, and I breathed deep in the brightness of the caged circle. A hush came over me, body and soul, and when I opened my eyes again, I was calm.
I’d always loved the ring. In here, life was simple: Win, or be beaten. I’d always striven not to care which happened, overly-much. Obviously I didn’t want to be beaten, but caring too much never did anybody any good.
But today was the first time I could honestly say I truly didn’t give a fuck. Win, or lose. I was just there to get bloody.
Tim didn’t disappoint. He didn’t play with me like Ed had. He was about as direct as a battering ram. My strategy was similar to what it had been with Ed, for similar reasons—except with Tim, it was not because I didn’t want to get knocked out, but because I didn’t want to die.
Or it would have been my strategy, if I’d cared. At the moment, I didn’t.
I threw myself at him like a tornado of pain. No sooner had he bucked me off than I was back, making the crowd scream with glee as I clung to his back, my forearm depressing his windpipe. He fought me, and finally sagged to his knees. In the first minute of that fight, I knew I had him.
But tonight, I didn’t want to win. I wanted to fight.
I let him go. The crowd booed. I ignored them, let him get up, let him come at me again.
And maybe I should have just ended it there, because it turned out to be a close fight. I had more skill and technique, but that was balanced out by my weakness, my injury. I had speed, but he had brute strength.
In the end, he wanted it too badly. He let pride and anger get in his way. He got sloppy, and I—as precise and calculating as the day I was born—leapt into all the openings he gave me, and generally took advantage, hard. I beat him into the ground, literally. He tried to climb back to his feet, and I drove him back down. That final time, he hit the mat with an impact that rattled the chain link.
It was good. It was satisfying. But, it wasn’t enough.
Through the fencing, I met Ed’s eyes. “Another,” I said.
He nodded, and mere seconds later Tim was out, and fresh meat was in. Fresh meat was very excited, very young. His fair skin turned red very easily, and very quickly. He got a few hits in as I was thrashing him. I barely felt them.
Truth be told, I barely felt anything. We were bare-knuckle boxing, but I felt no pain. My fists, my ribs… I was numb, moving with a mechanical grace, an efficiency borne of long practice.
I wore my opponent down, and then I beat him.
“Another,” I growled.
I’d barely blinked, and another man was in the cage with me. This one was dark, stocky. Sneaky.
I circled him warily after he landed several lightning blows. Good, solid blows, not telegraphed at all. I watched him feint, studied the way that he moved.
This man was good, I decided. Dangerous. Too dangerous to play with.
The next time he rushed me, I kicked him in the head. He dropped like a rock.
Outside the cage, Ed laughed. He raised a brow. I nodded. Out with the old, in with the new. I was just warming up.
I beat the next one, and the next, and the next. I fought until the crowd wasn’t cheering anymore, and I should have been exhausted.
The curious thing was, when Ed appeared in front of me to end my reign of terror, I wasn’t tired—not even a little bit. I brought my fists up, ready to give it my all, to beat him this time.
He held up his hands, palm-out. “No, J.D.,” he said, in his low, calm, even voice. “I’m not here to fight.”
“Then… what?” He was knocking me off my stride, outta my groove, and I resented it. I wanted to fight him, wanted to wipe that confident look off his face.
“I’m letting you know you’re done.”
“I’m not.” I was just getting started.
“You are,” he said. “You’ve beat everyone worth fighting, and even some who weren’t. No one’s betting anymore, and that’s bad for business.”
“They’d bet if you fought me,” I pointed out.
“Probably. But it’s not happening. Not tonight. You’ve had enough. Now, clear the ring so others can play.”
“But—”
He came in closer, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and guided me toward the gate. I considered resisting, and then thought better of it. “I suggest,” he said, “that if you absolutely must do something physical, you find another outlet.”
I glanced over at him.
“If you know what I mean,” he said with a wink. He deposited me at the bottom of the stairs, smooth as you please, and I couldn’t even get mad about it.
Because his suggestion… was brilliant. Why was I at this sausage fest, when I could be spending the evening—my last evening—with the woman I loved?
I ran outta there just as quickly as I’d run in.
When I got to the little cabin she shared with Mitzi, I didn’t knock. I just pushed the door open, and froze at what I saw.
Thea sat on the end of her bed with nothing but a towel tucked around her hips. Her hair was pinned up, the long line of her naked back to me, and firelight from the woodstove kissed her damp skin. A sponge poised on one shoulder, her hand having paused at my entrance.
She didn’t move, except to draw in a breath. Didn’t look.
Could she know who it was? Could she be as aware of me as I was of her?
I let the door close behind me and crossed to her, quiet as a ghost, trailing my gaze over all of that exposed skin. Always before, we’d been too frenzied to take the time, or too public to get fully naked, or we’d been in the dark.
But now, I could appreciate all of her. And… we had all night. One last night.
I studied her graceful shoulders, her slender waist. A drop of water drew my gaze downward, along the smooth curve of her hip. She had dimples above her lovely butt.
The silence stretched, and still, she didn’t look.
I moved forward onto the bed slowly, gently, wanting to be closer to her, but not wanting to startle her, not wanting reality to intrude. She hadn’t spoken, so I didn’t, either. If she didn’t know who it was, well… she would soon enough.
Covering her hand with my own, I slipped the sponge from her grasp. The contact was electric, her inhale sudden and shaky.
Not touching her anywhere else, I trailed the sponge slowly, lightly downward. Down the center of her back, between the soft swells of muscle, and over each bump of her spine, guided by the catch of her breath. Near her bottom, I gave the sponge a squeeze, and enjoyed how she shivered.
Reaching to her side, I dipped it into the tub of warm water. The view over her shoulder scalded me; her hardening nipples, on breasts that rose on a rough breath. She whimpered as I reached around her side, as the sponge skated beneath the curve of her breast.
I traced the sponge up the middle of her chest, shivering myself as her nipple dragged across my inner wrist. Then I moved it to the right, dampening one perfect peak. I blew downward, and watched goose bumps chase across her skin.
Thea leaned back against me with a moan, resting her weight against my chest, turning her face until her lips were against my neck. She sighed my name just beneath my ear.
I abandoned the sponge in the tub and weighed her breasts in both hands, squeezing gently, stroking, plucking the stiffened buds. She leaned against me more heavily as her breath came faster, as she gripped my arm, holding me close.
She was warm and willing and writhing in my arms—and I couldn’t look away from the shadowy nook between her thighs. Her legs moved when I grazed my teeth across her shoulder, jarring the ends of the towel tucked in her lap, making the cloth slide back to reveal another inch of thigh. I nibbled and kissed, again, and again, squeezing her breasts, and watched as she drew her legs up. As the towel surrendered.
My whole body throbbed with urgency. Her nipples stabbed into my palms, and my cock throbbed in my pants, and I absolutely needed what was between those smooth, silken thighs. I tri
ed to fight it, tried to stay in place, tried to pleasure her, to drive her wild.
But her every sinuous movement made her breasts jiggle in my hands, and she was kissing my neck—not sweet little brushes, but lush, slow, ready kisses. She whispered my name again, and I was lost.
I moved, letting her fall back onto the bed. Her knee knocked the tub, making water splash, and when I knelt between her legs, it became obvious the damn tub was gonna be in the way. I shoved it to the floor.
She gasped.
I yanked the towel out from under her, and threw it at the mess. Then I was crowding between her knees, kissing her belly. It trembled as she laughed. Her breath caught when I dipped my tongue into her bellybutton, and then her fingers pushed into my hair, massaging my scalp.
As I kissed my way lower, when I did something she liked, her hand stilled. When I did something she really liked, it tightened. Guess what she did when I found her clit with my tongue? It was a gratifying sting.
I spread the sweetest pussy I’d ever known, and looked my fill. I’d never seen such a beautiful shade of damp, dark pink—and never would again. I dipped my head, licking and flicking, working my tongue over that little nub, feeling her alternately melt and push herself up against me.
When I broke rhythm, her desperate groan was music to my ears. I traced my tongue around her entrance, giving her a new temptation, tasting her excitement.
“J.D.!” she cried, her thighs tightening around me.
I pushed my tongue into her, and her flavor burst along my tastebuds. Sweet. So sweet. Like dessert. Peaches and cream… I groaned as she tugged at my hair, as her whole body ground into my face, and I felt my control slipping. A man could only take so much.
I gazed upward to find her free hand squeezing her breast, and that hot, wet velvet pussy of hers rippled around my tongue. My cock jerked against the front of my sweats, so hard it was a miracle it hadn’t burst free. I froze, worried I’d embarrass myself.
The pain in my scalp recalled me. She was writhing with increasing urgency, and making those little sounds, and heating up all around me. I replaced my tongue with a long slide of two fingers, and as I stroked upward deep inside her velvety sheath, I sucked at her clit.
Her hips levitated a good six inches off the mattress, and those inner muscles clamped down on my fingers. I stayed with her, licking her through an orgasm that made me want absolutely nothing more than to be buried deep inside her, a part of her, looking deep into her eyes as we—
I grunted with surprise as she grabbed me. Somehow she got me on the bed, and then rode me back onto the pillows. I blinked up at the ceiling, thinking she might just have a future in wrestling as she yanked at the drawstring of my pants. She freed me, and then I was in her mouth.
“Oh, holy—” I bit my knuckles, but was completely unable to help the thrust of my hips. And then I was trying to apologize, but I couldn’t find the words. Her lips… her tongue, the hot cavern of her mouth… Fuck! I flushed hot and then shivered with cold as my balls drew up and I moaned, suspended in a maelstrom of pleasure.
When she finally let me pop free, I collapsed back on the pillows with something bordering on relief. I was throbbing, and sheened with sweat—and she’d just thrown her leg over.
“Condom,” I had the presence of mind to mumble. With a muttered curse, Thea rolled off the bed and dashed to the other side of the cabin. Her lovely buns glowed in the firelight as she rifled through her roomie’s bedside table.
I shoved off my clothes, was naked by the time she came back, and then her clever hands were on me, making my muscles tighten as she rolled the condom on. I slid my hands up her thighs, lifted my head and watched as she gripped me, and pointed me just exactly where I wanted to go. I squeezed the big muscles of her legs, urging her to go faster.
But as I thrust from beneath, she actually lifted up slightly, resisting. I could have cried. I felt jumpy with anticipation, crazy with it. I was a seasoned athlete, and still, my heart was trying to thump its way out of my chest. I looked up at her, wondering if she knew what she did to me, hoping she saw the desperation in my eyes.
She was smiling. Her hair had come loose at some point; it was a gorgeous mess hanging across her shoulders and over her sparkling eyes. Oh yes, she knew exactly what she was doing.
With a growl, I reached up and dragged her down. I covered her mouth with mine, and in a single motion, I rolled her onto her back and slid deeply into her.
Having her under me, around me, so close, so perfect, momentarily stunned me. She was a creature from my wildest fantasies, and she was giving me this look, like I was the only thing she’d ever wanted. And from the way she tilted her hips, the way her nails dug into me, I was guessing she wanted it now.
But this was our last night together, and I didn’t want to rush, dammit. I wanted to savor her, to remember her just like this—to stamp myself indelibly on her memory. Maybe it was cruel of me, but I wanted to ruin her for any other man. I wanted her to remember me, always.
“What do you want?” I asked, wishing she’d say me, wishing she’d ask me to stay.
She trembled under me, her toes curling against the backs of my legs. “You,” she said. Nothing else.
I almost made the snarky comment that tried to bubble to the surface, to point out that there was apparently an expiration date to her interest. But I didn’t.
I wanted to make love to her.
I wanted her… to change her mind.
THEA
He was driving me… out of my mind. My whole body hummed, writhed under him. I couldn’t think, could barely see.
All I could do was hold on, and I was failing at that. My body felt like it was coming apart, like there was no frickin’ way I could keep it together.
Everything was sweeter, more intense, because I knew this was our last time together. And so I clutched at him, memorized him. I could have told you exactly, in the minutest of detail, what his cock felt like inside me, every inch, each curve and swell. The strong curl of his hips, the way his pubic bone rubbed mine. The press and slide of his hard abs above me, the chafe of his chest hair. The crazed flush that came over my body.
His mouth was on mine, my taste on his tongue, in my mouth. And as he thrust, I was looking up at him, memorizing the way his damp locks fell over his forehead, the way he went up and up and up until I was so full I groaned, and then the decadent feel of him sliding back, filling me with anticipation of his next—Yes! Yes! Yes!
I came. And I came again.
I clung to him, filled with pleasure, filled with joy. He made me feel so much. Too much.
I was bursting with it, and yet there was an undercurrent of loss that made my next exhale a sob. He kissed the sound away, holding me, murmuring sweet things as he continued to move in me, in our nest of sheets, in my tiny cabin. Here and now, I was his, and he was mine, and I tried to focus on that, not what could have been. What couldn’t be.
He was moving faster now, holding me, rubbing me, setting me on fire.
“J.D.!” I cried.
He responded to my plea, placing a fiery thumb on my clit.
I exploded into an orgasm even more intense than my previous two combined. I kicked and twisted and strained, my hand clenched on his wrist. He stayed with me, riding me across the bed, covering my body with his, keeping his spot between my legs, still moving so damn deeply inside me, holding me tight as he growled into my ear.
The sound made my eyes cross, and my body arch on the strongest shot of pure sensation I’d ever felt. What started out as a keening cry graduated to a helpless scream. My heart was beating so hard, I thought I’d faint. My toes were tingling, and… I was biting him. I found that one out after the fact, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
I was clawing at him, my body clenching around his, and he was sweating, groaning, saying my name over and over as the spot between us became liquid. He was kissing my neck, and I knew the moment he came. His bicep bunched, the arm wrapped around my knee pulli
ng tighter, until I was more open than I’d ever been, until he was more deeply inside me than anyone had ever been, or would ever be.
His palm was on the side of my face, making me look into his eyes, making me fall into the blackness we’d created together.
He kissed me. And again. Our damp skin melded together, and we exchanged sweet, delicate, tasting kisses, made all the sweeter by the storm that’d come before.
Inside, my heart was breaking.
I couldn’t not say it: “Stay.”
I felt him stiffen against me, and knew I’d overstepped my bounds. Knew it would be less painful to yank off the Band-Aid. Just let him go.
But, not yet.
“Just… stay the night,” I amended, closing my eyes against the pain.
Chapter Twenty-Five
J.D.
I didn’t have a lot of packing to do. I jammed my clothes in my duffel, and gently placed my PS4 in a carry-on, with clothes jammed all around it.
My brothers had been watching me all morning, ever since I’d come back from Thea’s. But, there wasn’t much to say.
I was still leaving.
Avoiding having her tell me goodbye, again, I’d snuck out before she’d woken up. It would’ve been a mean feat if I’d actually slept, but I found I couldn’t. Instead, I’d spent the night watching her sleep… Realizing, my plan had backfired.
Thea had stamped herself indelibly on my memory. She’d ruined me for any other woman.
“All right,” I said, hefting my bags. “Take me to the airport.” I had a small plane scheduled to meet me on the airstrip up behind Dotty’s. Once in town, I’d need to get a cab to Anchorage International, and wait another few hours for my flight from Alaska.
My brothers hesitated, as I’d expected they would. With Zack and Rory, nothing was easy.
“You drive me,” I said, “or I drive myself, and you find a way to pick up your boat.”
“Dammit, J.D.,” Zack said. “You don’t have to go. Especially not like this.”