by HJ Bellus
I didn’t make it home until three in the morning. He opened up about everything that had him tied up in knots. His story made me fall even deeper in love with him. Yes, in love. I’m pretty damn sure I’ve been in love with the man since the second time I served him in the diner several months ago and he used a cheesy pickup line on me.
Jag’s childhood was heartbreaking, nothing a child should ever have to experience. Part of me was jealous of the fact he could talk about it. It was evident that the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders after he was forced to face his demons. That’s a luxury I’ll never have.
I glance back at the girl in the mirror, seeing the girl I know. Sasha Brown. The woman who can’t love Jag. The woman sentenced to a life in prison inside her head. She squares her shoulders, stares down the reflection, and comes to terms with saying goodbye to Jag.
***
My hand trembles against the metal on the door. I take in several deep breaths before opening it. The gym is full of action with a few fighters still scrapping in a ring and a group of women chatting, waiting for class to start. It doesn’t feel like a gym at all and more like a home.
My vision goes to the large, bold font on the wall. The vibrant teal letters pop to life off the black background. Three simple words that hold a deep meaning to living life—heart, fire, desire. I’ve seen the words on Jag’s workout bags and the back of some of his t-shirts.
A warm sensation creeps over my chest knowing Jag has an army behind him. He’ll be just fine after tonight. It’s me that I’m worried about.
“Sunni.” Layla bounces up to me, her arms wide open. “I’m so glad you made it. Jag must not have scared you off last time.”
She squeezes me in a tight hug. My arms dangle at my sides until my head catches up with me. I pat her back two times before she steps back. The most awkward hug in the history of friend hugs.
“I’ll be working Tuesdays for the next few months but wanted to come to one more class.” I tuck my hands in the pockets of my jacket in a gesture of stepping back.
“That sucks.” Layla’s shoulders sag. “That sucks, but I’m sure Jag will give you some private lessons.”
She winks at me, all too entertained with the idea of Jag and me. Before I have a chance to open my mouth to speak, Layla continues.
“I may be overstepping here, Sunni, but I have to tell you something. I have no idea how serious you and Jag are, but I do know one thing. The man hasn’t been himself for months and months, going on a damn year, until you. There’s other shit in his life, but it’s you, Sunni, bringing him back to life.” Layla passes and bends over, picking up her daughter pawing at her legs. “This past fight, he was unstoppable. Fought like the man he is. He had gone downhill fast, getting his ass kicked and then quit fighting, but if you could’ve seen him the other night, Sunni, it was just amazing.”
“It’s not…” I open my mouth to speak.
Layla cuts me off. “It’s you. He wouldn’t shut up about you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the man is in love with you. Whatever it is, keep it up. I’ve missed Jag, and now we have him back.”
“Wag!” Bella throws her chubby arms up in the air, lunging out of her mom’s arms.
I follow the direction of her cheering to see Jag strutting toward us. His smile covers his face with his bright white teeth on full display. He’s sweaty and happy. Black gym shorts ride low on his hips. His t-shirt is cut into a tank top. I can’t help myself when I see what’s on his black shirt—a white rooster with the word “GOD” in capital letters below it. It takes me a few seconds to put it together. The man deserves to wear the shirt from what I could tell by groping his rooster through his pants and the way he brought my body to life.
Layla sets Bella down. She races up to Jag with her fists balled up. They go through sets of punches and kicks. Warmth coats me from head to toe watching the two. Bella has that same gleam of love shining in her eyes for Jag as I do. Jag scoops up the little girl and tosses her in the air. Her legs and arms spread out wide while her chortle of laughter echoes in the gym.
Jag settles the girl on his hip and ruffles up her hair, skewing the perfect bow to the side of her head. Layla growls next to me, shakes her head, and then stomps off.
“There’s my other favorite girl.” He takes two long strides until he’s pressed against my side. He leans down and kisses my forehead as if it was as natural as breathing.
I don’t want to face it, but Layla is dead on right. Jag is a different person. I didn’t realize it until now. He’s not the broken man who’d come into the bar late at night. The limbs and roots of the circumstances in which I’ve found myself tangle, weave, and ground me in place. The ache in my chest grows, visions of the girl in the mirror haunt me, and I know there’s no way I can break this man.
The thing about secrets is they always find a way of coming out. I’m on borrowed time with Jag. A clean break now would be the best.
Jag sets Bella down, and we watch her race over to her grandpa, Boss. The little girl has every grown man in this gym wrapped around her little finger with her larger than life personality.
I’m pulled to Jag’s sweaty body as I watch Bella and her grandpa. His forehead drops to mine. His thumb brushes at my cheek. My knees go weak, and the tempo of my heart speeds up.
“You okay, baby girl?” He runs his tongue along the outline of my lips.
I nod, unable to speak. Everything that needs to come out bottlenecks deep in my throat. The need to run or leave this man erases with his presence.
“Killed me not being able to text or call you.”
“Heard you won your fight.” I reach up, placing my hands on his chest, grounding myself.
“I did.” He kisses me quickly. “And you know the only thing I wanted afterward?”
“No.” I clutch his shirt in my fists, afraid of the answer and knowing damn well what it is.
“You. I wanted you, Sunni.” He steps us back until my back hits a wall. He presses himself into my center, letting me know how much he wants me.
The honest answer flows from my lips in quick, hasty chops. “I want you too, Jag.”
“Let’s blow this popsicle joint, yeah?” He cocks his head to the side, nibbling at my neck.
“Don’t you have to teach?” I squirm underneath him. My skin is on fire for the man I can’t have, yet I’m tumbling further and further into a sinkhole. Jag not carrying a burden in the pit of his stomach is something nobody could resist, not even Mother Teresa.
He stands up straight, smirks, and then glances down at the logo on his t-shirt. “Baby, they don’t call me the cock god for nothing.”
And before I realize what’s happening, Jag grabs my hand and we are racing out of the gym. Our laughter glides down the street as we race hand in hand. I have no idea where I’m going, and for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t matter.
Chapter 9
Jag
I hadn’t realized how far I’d fallen out of my head until this moment. I prop my cheek on my palm and study Sunni’s profile. She’s at peace, sound asleep. Her chest rises and falls with all of her features relaxed. It’s been a week. Seven amazing mornings waking up next to this girl. The night we ran out of the gym we went to my place since it was closer.
Sunni lives in an area I’ve hated since I was a kid. No one with her beauty and genuine soul deserves to live there. She shrugs it off every single time I bring it up, backing up her action with the fact the rent is cheap.
She’s not fooling me; I see the indecision on her face every step of the way. Sunni is hiding something from me, or hell, everyone in her world. I get it. We all have a past. The way she soothes my overactive mind, I don’t care if she ever opens up to me.
The temptation to sink to the bottom of the bed and lick her awake makes my balls ache. My lips turn up remembering that night we escaped the gym. Sunni’s face burned a crimson red when I told her what I was going to do to her. She’s no virgin, and
we haven’t gone that far even with my balls seizing at her sight.
I lick my lips recalling all the shit we’ve done, which includes everything except shoving balls deep in her. I’ve fucking loved worshipping her body every night. And when she wrapped her full lips around my throbbing cock, I thought I’d fucking died and gone to orgasmic heaven. Nutting for the first time in her perfect mouth will go down in fucking history. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then smacked her lips together. “That was a first and um…tasted different.”
These memories are thrusting me to the top of my game. My gym time has been spot on. Jag, also known as the Punisher, is now back and making some noise in the MMA scene. My name is back in the running. And this time nothing is going to stop me.
I lean down and kiss Sunni’s cheek and slink out of bed. She closed the bar last night after working at the diner all day. The woman has a work ethic that could put any man to shame.
The door to the bathroom squeaks as I shut it. I fire up the shower and take a piss while it warms up. My cock never gets the memo we are letting Sunni sleep in. My balls throb with the thought of a naked Sunni lying in my bed. It was extreme fucking willpower letting her be.
The water pounds down on my back. I drop my head, wrap a hand around the base of my cock, and begin stroking. Light, gentle tugs at first. My eyes snap shut, picturing Sunni’s plump tits. Fuck, they’d look perfect bouncing up and down as she rides my cock. My fist grips my dick tighter, picking the tempo up to a brutal pace.
The base of my spine tingles slowly, creeping its way up to the base of my neck. I catch the loud roar of my release biting down on my bottom lip. I pump the final streams of cum, shivering at the sensation.
Goddamn, I can’t wait to do that inside of Sunni. Bareback inside of that woman will fucking ruin me for anyone else. Shit, who am I fooling? She’s already destroyed me with her voodoo magic.
***
Sunni
The glorious scent of bacon wakes me up. I stretch my arms over my head, feeling the sheets slip down my body. The cool air of Jag’s apartment washes over my exposed breast. A heated blush creeps along my cheeks. I’m learning quickly Jag doesn’t give a fuck and pushes me to my limits. Sleeping naked is not just a suggestion in Jag’s place, but a requirement. I’m certain nothing could ever embarrass the overzealous man. Hell, he’s even given me several more cock copter shows. He’s damn proud of them. It’s the boyish grin on his face that warms my heart.
I use the restroom and toss on one of his t-shirts. It seems the man collects them since three out of the five of his dresser drawers are stuffed to the brim with them. Music blares in the kitchen. I can’t make out the song until I near the opening of the hall. Jag’s backside comes into view. My insides clench, and I grin like a fool.
He’s working in his kitchen in a pair of tight black boxers, singing along to the theme song to Titanic. He knows every single word and holds each note as he flips pancakes and whips eggs. I tilt my head until it relaxes on the wall next to me.
He only has protein for breakfast. I know those fluffy buttermilk pancakes are just for me, which means he had to go to the store and buy them for me. It’s the little things and his alpha male tendencies that I love the most about him.
“Enjoying the view?” He doesn’t raise his head as he speaks to me.
My arms drop to my side, and I step toward him. “Waiting for my breakfast. How did you know I was here? Don’t tell me you have spidey senses now?”
He drops the spatula and rounds the corner with his arms pointing down to his crotch. “Nope, Sunni radar. The funniest thing happens when you’re around.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“My dick goes straight up just like a damn antenna.”
“Weird.” I place my hands on his chest. It’s my favorite part of his big, muscular body.
“It hurts too.” He sticks out his bottom lip.
“Nice try, you big goof.” I tap the tip of his nose. “I smell bacon. End of story.”
“You’re hurting my wittle feelings.” He dives his face into the crook of my neck and sinks his teeth in, then seals it with a soothing kiss. “Bully.”
“It’s bacon, Jag.” I kiss his lips quick and sidestep him. “Nothing trumps bacon, even your sexy as sin body.”
Jag shakes his head. He’s stolen one of my hairbands and put his long hair on top in a ponytail. It looks ridiculous in a way only Jag can pull off. He finishes the depressing love song while plating my food. I help myself to a large glass of orange juice. Another item Jag only stocks for me. It’s not lost on me how I’ve felt at home the second I stepped foot in his apartment.
I sit at the island ready to dig into my food when I notice Jag giving me an odd look.
“What?” I set my fork back down.
He looks down to my chest, his brows furrowing even more. I follow his glance and pull out the black t-shirt. He clears his throat, stifling a laugh. It takes me a few beats to make out the saying. Ladies. Then there’s an oversized arrow pointing down to another set of words. Free Protein Shake.
“Jag!” I look up to him, smiling like a loon. “Only you. I swear sometimes I fear for your sanity.”
“Baby girl, I’d say you look good in anything, but I’m having a tough time finding it right now.”
I quirk up a brow and shrug. “It could go both ways. I mean the protein thing.”
“Last time I heard, sticky sweet honey is pure sugar.”
Heat from my chest creeps up my neck, leaving behind red splotchy marks. The man is so crude. And I find his dirty talking sexy as hell. I focus on my breakfast, knowing this banter could go on forever. Bacon. I focus back on the delicious, perfectly fried strips of heaven.
Jag leans back on the counter, crossing his feet at the ankles as he shovels in his half dozen eggs and bacon. He doesn’t stop there, pounding a protein shake he whipped up in his blender. He’s so damn sexy as he works his way around in the kitchen. His biceps flex with each movement, his divine chest on display.
One night I accused Jag of tanning and teased him about how much he spent on tanning packages. He indulged my humor before telling me he was half Mexican. For a second, I thought he was joking because he’s Jag and nothing is off limits. Then all the puzzle pieces fell into place—the salsa bar, his moves, and the times he’s spoken Spanish. When he speaks to me in Spanish, I’m a goner.
“Are you serious, Jag?” My fork clatters to my plate. A Willie Nelson song just ended, and now SpongeBob SquarePants fills the house with a fast-paced annoying as hell song.
Jag rocks his head back and forth while shimmying his shoulders to the beat and then belts out every single word keeping up with the tempo to Our C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G song.
My stomach hurts by the time he finishes. I’m bent over the stool clutching my aching gut.
“What?” Jag’s bare feet come into view.
I look up to him with tears in my eyes. “I’m not going to even ask.”
“What?” He crooks his head to the side and puts his finger under my chin.
“How do you know that song? The reasoning behind your random as hell playlist.”
“I can take a lot, darling, but when it comes to SpongeBob, I draw the line. He’s a god in my eyes, and if this thing between us is going to work out, you need to show him respect.” Jag manages to get this all out with a straight face.
I wait for the smile or sly grin to come, but it never does. He remains stoic and as serious as he’s ever been. I flatten my lips in a straight line and clear my throat, clueless how to respond. Jag’s hands go under my arms. He lifts me up on top of the counter. His palms spread my legs as he licks his lips. His fingers slide up and under my black lace panties. In a seductive dance, he pulls them off and then tosses them over his shoulder.
“Have I ever told you that you’re a fool?” He glances up at me.
I nod. “A fool for you.”
“Yeah?” His fingertips
glide back up my thighs.
“A fool in love.” The words are out before I think about them. A powerful message I can’t take back, and, in fact, don’t want to. Jag has managed to seal my fate. He’s a force I could never walk away from no matter how hard I tried.
“Say it again.” He brings up a hand to cup my cheek.
“A fool in love.” I pause, adding more this time. “With you. I love you, Jag.”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with you too.”
Jag steps back, causing my chest to tighten. He runs his hand through his hair, stopping at his ponytail. “I’ve never spoken those words to a girlfriend.”
“I’ve never spoken them and meant it,” I reply.
“Another first for us.”
“Yeah.” I nod my head.
He steps back up to me, gently pressing me back until I’m spread out on his island as if I were a breakfast buffet. And to Jag, that’s exactly what I am. He makes every part of me feel beautiful right even down to my flaws.
“This needs to come off.” He grabs the hem of the t-shirt, helping me ease it off. It lands on the hardwood floor right next to my panties.
His head dips between my legs. I’ll never be used to this man going down on me. My spine stiffens, but not as bad as the first time or when he forced me to ride his face. Don’t get me wrong, the sensation is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s getting used to feeling so exposed.
Jag blows on my exposed core and then darts his tongue, lapping between the folds. My back bows up, begging for more.
“One more thing.” He stands back up.
“Jag!” I perch up on my elbows. “Are you serious?”
His hand cups my core, applying the perfect amount of pressure to tide me over. “Come to my fight tomorrow?”