by Hamel, B. B.
I watched for a second, his muscular and incredible body working up and down, and then ripped myself away from him. I shut the door behind me as I retreated into my bedroom.
It was wrong for his mother to kick him out, but the reason I wanted him to stay was even worse.
I wanted to fuck my stepbrother, my husband, until I couldn’t walk. I wanted him to strip me down and take me, just the way he kept saying he would.
It was all so messed up. Just feet away, I could practically sense him still working out, and I wanted so desperately to rip that shirt from his tattooed chest and let him have me.
Instead, I was going to convince my dad to let him stay.
I’d worry about everything else later.
Chapter Eight: Cole
I threw my shirts into my duffel with a grunt. It wasn’t exactly surprising that my mother had decided to kick me out, but it was definitely a new record. I hadn’t even lasted a month in her house before she’d decided I was too much of a liability.
That was fine with me. The whole thing had stopped being fun and had started to feel real as soon as I’d figured out that I really was married to Alexa. As much as I hated to leave her, it was just that time.
Still, I was going to miss having her around all the time. I had gotten used to seeing her in the hallways, to flirting with her mercilessly, teasing her about the way I made her body feel. But I wasn’t the type to beg forgiveness or to look back.
As I sat down on my bed for the last time, someone knocked at the door.
“What?” I called out.
“It’s Frank. Can I talk to you?”
What does my new stepdaddy want? I thought ruefully.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
He opened the door and stepped in, closing it softly behind him. I could tell that he was uncomfortable as he stood with his arms crossed, avoiding my look.
“What can I do for you, Frank?” I asked, trying not to sound annoyed.
“I just wanted to say that this wasn’t my decision.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Is that all?”
He sighed and looked at me. “Look, Cole, your mother is under a lot of pressure because of our relationship. I’m not sure she’s thinking clearly on this one.”
I laughed. “You don’t know Cindy very well then.”
He held up one hand, a pained look on his face. “I know what you think of her,” he said, “but she’s softened a lot since you last saw her.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I’ll never understand you or your relationship with your mother, but I do know that she loves you.”
I smirked but didn’t respond. I hadn’t needed Cindy’s love for a long, long time. I had come to the conclusion that she wasn’t really capable of it, no matter what she may have looked like on the outside. Frank would figure it out eventually. He was applying human terms and emotions and feelings to a robot. It just didn’t work out.
“So,” Frank went on, “I decided that I want you to stay.”
That surprised me. “Does Cindy know?”
“Not yet,” he said, “but I’ll tell her after we’re done talking.”
“That’s not going to go over well.”
“This is my house, Cole.”
“Maybe. But so long as Cindy is here, she’s in charge and we both know it.”
Frank laughed and shook his head. “You’re not wrong there. But in this instance I’m making my own decision, and your mother will just have to go along with it.”
I had to admit that I was impressed. I’d never pegged Frank for a man with a spine, but standing up to Cindy took guts, even if he hadn’t even confronted her about it yet and was going behind her back.
But I didn’t want or need charity. I didn’t want Frank’s pity, and I didn’t want Cindy’s scorn. I didn’t need any of it. I didn’t care about any of it. The only reason I was staying in the house was Alexa, but that just seemed more and more crazy.
I knew she wanted me. It was obvious. But she was so damn conflicted and so obsessed with this marriage thing that she couldn’t let herself have what was clearly what she needed. I’d been up front with what I wanted from her. There was no ambiguity in my position. Actually, there was no ambiguity in the position that I wanted to fuck her in.
So there was nothing keeping me around.
“No, thanks,” I said. “If Cindy wants me out, I’m out.”
“I think you should reconsider.”
“Listen, Frank, this little shit between my mom and me, it’s as old as time. She’s a controlling shrew and I’m not a little teenager anymore trying to make mommy happy.”
“She just wants what’s best for you.”
“Maybe, but her best isn’t mine. I’m leaving. You can avoid your fight.”
He sighed and shook his head. “No. I’m telling her what I’ve decided no matter what. You can stay or leave, but you’re welcome back whenever you want.”
I nodded, even more impressed. “Okay, Frank.”
“Okay.” He turned and left without another word.
I liked him. As much as I didn’t want to, I liked him. I thought he was an idiot for marrying my mother, and maybe a little gullible, but he seemed like a decent enough man.
I finished packing and stood up, tossing my duffel over my shoulder. The house was comfortable, by far the nicest place I’d lived in a long time, but I had to be moving on. I had my bike, some stuff in storage, and some cash in savings. I was going to be fucking fine.
But for some reason I didn’t want to leave. Pride or not, part of me wanted to drop my bag and take Frank up on his offer. I wanted to stay next door to Alexa, to flirt with her mercilessly until she eventually gave in to herself and her needs.
But fuck that. Fuck weakness. I pushed open my bedroom door and went down the steps.
Outside, I found my bike parked where I’d left it. I sat down on the seat, grabbed the clutch, and started it. The engine roared to life as I gave the house one last look.
And then Alexa came out the front door dressed in short shorts and a tight as fuck T-shirt. I knew I should have gotten out of there, sped away, signed her papers through the mail and forgotten the whole fucking thing. I should have concentrated on my fighting. But I didn’t.
“Hey,” she yelled over the engine. “Where are you going?”
“Leaving,” I yelled back.
“Can you turn that thing off?”
I grinned at her. “I could.”
She rolled her eyes. “Be mature. For once.”
I laughed and killed the engine. “What’s up, Alex?”
“I just wanted to say . . . you know.”
She looked so damn uncomfortable that it was sexy. I loved how sheepish and embarrassed she could get. The girl was incapable of saying exactly what she wanted.
“You wanted to say that you’re desperate for me to come inside for one last goodbye fuck?”
She made a face. “We haven’t even had a hello fuck, in case you forgot.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t stopped thinking about fucking that perfect little cunt of yours since I got here.”
She blushed. “Okay, well stop. That’s not what this is about.”
“What’s it about, then?”
“I just, you know.” She looked frustrated.
“Spit it out, wifey.”
“I just wanted you to stay. You should stay.”
I grinned at her. “I know you want me to.”
“Don’t be an ass. You think that’s easy to say to you?”
“I guess not.”
“I know my dad said you don’t need to leave, and I’m saying it too.”
“What’s in it for me?”
She blinked at me, surprised. “What do you mean? Free room and board plus meals, I guess.”
“I don’t give a shit about that. What do I get if I stay?”
“Why do you need to get something? I’m just trying to be nice here.”
She bit her lip, looking frustrated, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. She was wondering if I meant sex and couldn’t decide if she would do that, if she could promise she’d fuck me if I stayed. Even though she wanted to, she knew it would be weird, or bad, or whatever she thought.
“What do you want?” she asked finally.
“Come to my fight. It’s in a few days.”
She looked surprised at that. “Wait, you just want me to come watch you fight?”
“That’s it. Come watch me fight and then decide if you want me to stay or not.”
“I can do that.”
“I’d be careful, sis. You might not know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I’ve been to a fight before.”
“Maybe, but you’ve never seen someone you know put their life on the line.”
She shrugged, not sure what to say. “Well, fine. I can do that.”
“One more thing. Come alone. Don’t bring your friend.”
She opened her mouth, shut it, and nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll text you the details.”
“Okay.”
I grabbed the clutch and started the engine again. She stepped back away from the bike, blinking.
“Later, wife,” I yelled.
“Stop calling me that,” she called back. I began to pull out into traffic. “And sign the papers, you asshole!” she yelled as I roared away.
I smirked to myself, tearing up the road. Maybe I would be moving back home after all.
I liked it when the locker room was empty.
It was a few days after I’d moved out of Frank’s house. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Alexa, though I did send her the fight details. She hadn’t gotten back to me, but I wasn’t letting that distract me from what I needed to do.
The last few days had been dedicated to training and watching tapes of the guy I was fighting. He was young and aggressive and strong, but I was confident. I was always confident.
I liked it when the locker room was empty. I could sit there and meditate, get my mind right, empty my brain, and get ready for what I was about to do.
And I was about to fight for my life. Every time I entered the ring, I knew that I could die. I was risking life and limb in there, risking my future, my career. One wrong move, one false step, and I could easily get beaten, broken, or worse.
It had happened before. It happened to guys like me. In a sport as brutal and fast-paced and violent as MMA, it would keep on happening.
That was what we wanted. The rush of bodies breaking bodies, of the possibility of defeat, or victory, or serious injury. It was all there and it was right.
It was what I lived for.
And then the promoter came in, and my manager came in, my trainer, some media guys. I didn’t like the locker room as much when I wasn’t alone, but it was part of the gig. I answered questions, I talked strategy, but mostly I worked on keeping my mind right.
And then there was the roar of the crowd as the announcer said my name. I walked through the tunnel, heart beating slow, slow, and my whole body loose and calm, radiating a deadly calm. I had learned how to control my emotions and how to enter into an empty, mindless fighting state at my whim. Skad had taught me that and much, much more, stuff nobody knew that I could do.
It’d been a long time since I was out in front of people, but for some reason my usual pre-match jitters weren’t there. I couldn’t even remember the name of the girl I had been thinking about over and over ever since I’d gotten back to America.
There was only the ring and my opponent, an intense focus I hadn’t felt since the Thai jungles. Hours of training in incredible heat and humidity had hardened me to distractions.
Once in the ring, I stripped down to my shorts, my hands wrapped and ready. People spoke words, but I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t see them. I could only see my opponent. Time ceased to flow, and I felt nothing but my heart beating softly.
Then we were faced off, circling each other. Somehow the round had started. His hands flashed out and I blocked them.
I dance back, testing his speed with a few jabs.
He swatted them. He was angry, a snarling bull. He wanted to make a move, to see what I was made of.
I floated back. The crowd was screaming, but I couldn’t hear them.
He feinted. I didn’t fall for it.
Then he made his move. He juked forward, trying to grapple me, but my feet snapped out quicker than he could have realized.
I caught him right in the face.
Blood splashed from his nose.
It was all fury and excitement as I lunged.
He stumbled back, shocked, in pain, his eyes wide. He thought he was fast.
But I was faster.
My fists found him then. Pummeling him.
I wanted to break him. Kill him if I had to. I was ready to smash his skull into pieces.
Fury and intensity rolled through me as my fists snapped out, again and again, pounding and destroying. I forgot that the thing I was beating was a human, an actual person. He was just a bag of meat to me then, an enemy that needed to be destroyed.
And then the ref was there, pulling me back. I realized that my opponent was down on the ground and the bell was ringing.
The night came rushing back in a cacophony of sound and emotion.
People were pressed in on all sides in the locker room. It was packed, promoters everywhere, everyone congratulating me.
“Fuck, man,” Ronnie said. “When did you learn to move that fast?”
“Thailand,” I grunted at him, grinning.
He laughed. “That shit was crazy! You made that kid look like a fool!”
I basked in my victory, in the crowd, but my eyes kept scanning for her. For Alexa.
I’d come back to myself as soon as I had won the match. It was always a shit show after a knockout, especially a fast and brutal knockout like that. People were screaming and cheering. I scanned the crowd, trying to find her, but people kept getting in my face, congratulating me, wanting something from me. I had nothing to give them.
But I was elated. Nothing felt better than a victory, especially a victory you needed so desperately. And I needed to show everyone what I was still made of. That I was still a threat.
“Hey,” Ronnie said. “Isn’t that your stepsister?”
And then I spotted her, standing across the room, looking lost and shy. She was wearing a low-cut dress, all tight and fucking sexy, making her tits look incredible. She looked out of place standing among the fighting crowd, almost as if she was pure and everyone else was tainted. I quickly walked through the crowd, elbowing my way toward her.
Her whole face lit up as soon as she saw me. I felt something right then, something that was almost as good as the fight itself.
“Hey, sis,” I grunted.
“Hey, yourself. Congrats on your win.”
“Thanks.”
She stood close to me, and I could sense exactly what I expected. Behind her smile, there was a tinge of fear. Subtle, but it was definitely there. She was uncomfortable, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the crowd or because she had just watched me beat a man to a pulp.
I had known she would respond that way. I had known it would scare her to see me fight like that, to see me really let loose and try to destroy another person. She wasn’t used to it; it wasn’t a part of her life like it was a part of mine.
“What did you think?” I asked her.
“It was . . . exciting.”
“Liar,” I grunted, standing close.
“I’m not lying.”
“I can see right through you.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
She sighed. “Fine. Okay. It was intense. It was easy when I didn’t know the guys fighting, but watching you like that was a totally different thing.”
“And now you’re
a little scared of me,” I said, smirking at her.
“No, I’m not scared.”
“You should be, sis.”
“Why?”
“Because now you know what I’m capable of.”
“Yeah. That’s true. But there’s something else, too.”
“What?”
She looked embarrassed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was also a little . . . you know.”
I grinned and felt my cock stir as I looked at her. She was clearly uncomfortable, and I knew exactly what she was going to say. I could see it in the way her chest rose and fell quickly, her breath coming in deep and fast. I could see it in the dress she was wearing, the dress that screamed sex, and the way her eyes lingered on my body. I knew what she wanted.
“It turned you on,” I whispered in her ear. “You thought to yourself, if I could fight like that, imagine how I could fuck.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“And now you can’t decide if you want to run away or if you want to go all in.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll tell you this: I fuck better than I fight. You only got a little taste of what I could do to that dripping pussy of yours.”
“I’m not dripping.”
“Don’t lie to me again. I know if I reached under that dress, I’d find you soaked through your panties.”
“Cole,” she said, pushing me away. “Look, I just wanted to say that you can come back, okay?”
She was blushing like crazy, and I could practically smell the desire rolling off her in waves. My heartrate was up and my cock was hard, so hard that I was worried someone might notice.
“Come on,” I grunted at her. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
She blinked at me and then nodded. “Okay.”
I grabbed her by the hand, nodded at Ronnie, and then led her out of the locker room and down a series of hallways. The venue was old and full of a bunch of different dressing rooms. It had been built for something else back in the day, something like plays or live theater or some shit like that. The dressing rooms were like honeycombs. I chose one at random, ducking inside.
I flipped on the light. There was a couch against one wall and a vanity on the other. Old costumes hung on hangers from a rack, and posters advertising movies older than the both of us combined were framed and hung on the walls.