The Cocky Cage Fighter Six Book Box Set

by Lane Hart

  Suddenly, the motherfucker of all ideas hits me like a lightnin' bolt.

  I need to confront my demons.

  I have to meet Eve Kelly.

  That's it! It's the only way to end this ridiculous obsession I've had with her goin' on for almost three years. The only way to get me the hell out of Fantasy Fuckland and bring me back to reality is to meet her face-to-face. I'm sure that the real thing is probably nothin' like the erotic perfection of the woman I watch deep throatin' on my flat screen.

  With this new, exciting plan on my mind, my knee bounces, impatiently waitin' until the meetin’ is over so I can whip out my phone to do an Internet search. Why didn't I think of this brilliant idea sooner?

  Thirty long minutes later, I stride out to the parkin’ lot and climb up in my big, neon green truck. The next second I'm on my phone, pullin' up Eve Kelly's website. I scan the page for a tour date calendar, but a few stunnin’ tits, I mean pics, grab my attention. Since I don’t have these particular images in my collection, I snap a screen shot of each to ogle later. In one particular photo, Eve's standin’ in nothin' but pure white, lacy lingerie that's a strikin' contrast to her tan, golden skin. Her full, red lips are suckin' on her index finger, and she's holdin' her chestnut hair up off of her shoulders, givin' the camera a sexy as fuck look that screams, "Will you pull my hair while I suck your cock?" Jesus.

  I don't know what the hell it is about the simple sight of this particular woman that sets me off. My hand automatically dives into my pants and squeezes my rock hard shaft every single time I look at her, without fail. It's so bad that I can't even wear a belt anymore. Screw that. Those leather bastards are nothin' but fuckin' hindrances, gettin' in the way of me and my fantasy girl.

  Tellin’ my dick he’ll have to just wait until I get home before I choke him out, I click on the website link for tour information and start scrollin’ through the cities.

  Sonofabitch!

  It's like the universe is alignin’ or some shit, because ironically enough, Eve's comin' to Raleigh in just two short weeks.

  …

  A week later, my boys and I are all hangin’ around the front desk of the newly renovated Havoc facility cooling off after our five mile run. The gym may be named by Sadie’s father, Don Briggs, but Jude Malone and I went halfsies on this franchise location. We both had plenty of money, him after beatin’ me to become the new World Welterweight Champion, and even my loser purse was substantial at half a million fuckin’ dollars. What was left over from that chunk of change went right on top of the other millions accumulatin’ in my savings, stocks, bonds, and all the other places my accountant decides to plant and grow more money. Jude figured the buyout and turnover of my old gym, Evolution, would be smoother if all our guys know I'm part owner, too, so I figured what the hell. Plannin’ and organizin’ the new business has given me a little somethin’ to do over the nine weeks I've been waitin’ for the doctor to let me back in the cage. I've been goin’ to therapy several times a week to rebuild the strength in my arm that still has an annoyin’ black brace on it to help stabilize it. I had no idea injuries were such a pain in the ass.

  With a winnin’ record, my fights usually don't last past the first round, and I barely break a sweat. Then Jude came along and kicked my ass all the way into the third round where he trapped me in an armbar and I was too arrogant to submit. Even after his arm was raised as the new champion, I couldn't believe that I had not only lost but lost badly. And the excruciating pain in my arm, well that shit had me worryin’ about whether or not my fightin’ days were over. I'm sure as fuck not ready to throw in the towel at twenty-four years old. Fightin’ for me is not about the money or fame. No, maybe that's why I got into MMA in high school, but really, it's about tamin’ the beast inside me. See, there's this testosterone crazed maniac who has been possessin’ me for the past five years, or maybe he's always been there, lyin’ dormant until a few hours before midnight that New Year's Eve.

  Hell, maybe I owe Abby, the bitch who wasted three years of my life, for my success, because from that day on, the monster lurked just underneath my skin like never before, demandin’ that I give him an escape, that I inflict physical pain and push my own body to the limits. I let all of the rage out on my opponents in the cage and on the punchin’ bags, along with the anger, the sadness, and the heartbreak. I started kickin’ ass with first round knockouts, and ended up winnin’ my first championship title a few months later. Now fightin’ keeps me feelin’ like my old self - cool, calm and level-headed. Without the physical exertion and release, I could very well lose control again, and that scares the shit out of me. So, there's no doubt that I need to get my arm back in shape and fight again, to set the beast free on my rivals and not some random person I flip out on. And to keep my emotions in check, I haven't seriously dated anyone since Abby.

  To most people it probably looks like I live an incredibly awesome life. Yeah, I may have won four Welterweight World Champion titles, and have more money than I know what to do with, but all that shit’s worthless when the one person I loved and was certain I wanted to spend the rest of my life decided she didn’t want to be with me.

  Abby not only ripped my fuckin’ heart out, but she made sure to shred it into a million pieces. That's why I prefer the companionship of a porn star a million miles away on the screen to takin’ the chance of losin’ myself and my grip on the beast because of the brutality inflicted on me by another woman.

  "So, I'm hittin' up The Playhouse this Friday,” I tell my boys after we all rehydrate and catch our breath. I’m ready to meet Eve and get out of my rut. “Who's in?"

  "Hell yes, I'm in," Senn responds, swingin’ his white towel over his topknot like a helicopter. "Show me the titties!"

  "You know I'm in," Nate, the freckle-face ginger, and my longtime sparrin’ partner says, offerin’ me a fist bump which I hit.

  "Fuck yes!" Josh, the shrimp, exclaims to which we all three respond in unison with, "Fuck, no."

  "What? Why can't I go?" the youngest and dumbest of our group whines.

  "Too young and too stupid," I grumble, and then turn my back on him, ignorin’ his further protests. There's no way I'm gonna be stuck babysittin’ that dipshit on the night I might finally get to meet Eve Kelly. "What about you, Jude?"

  When he lowers the water bottle he was drinkin’ from givin’ me a shit eatin’ grin, I already know his answer. "Well, unlike you ugly fuckers, I actually have a gorgeous woman at home with perfect tits that I don't have to pay to see. Oh, and she actually lets me touch them whenever I want!"

  "Kiss my ass," I reply. Am I jealous of Jude? Hell yes! Not of him with Sadie, but of what they have together, the real, long term kind of love. Datin’ sucks big, fat donkey dicks…just not as much as gettin’ cheated on.

  When my legs continue to protest the run I just gave them, I hop up on the counter before I drop the bombshell on them. "You're gonna be missin’ out, because you'll never believe who's gonna be showin’ her tits on stage Friday night.”

  "Who?" Senn asks, and then we all laugh when he flicks his sweaty towel at the back of Josh’s head, finally runnin’ the annoyin’ juvenile off with a muttered curse.

  "Eve Kelly,” I answer, unable to prevent the smile that stretches across my face at just the mention of her.

  "No fucking way." Nate laughs, leanin’ his elbows on the counter. "You've been collecting and wearing out her DVDs for years." Of course they know I watch porn, what guy doesn't? They just don't have any idea about the full extent of my depravity.

  "That's exactly why we're goin’,” I reply. “I'm gonna meet this woman, and then once and for all, get the fuck over her."

  "Ha! I'll believe that when I see it," Nate says.

  "Oh, you're gonna see it all right. Friday night and then I’m done with Eve Kelly’s fine ass for good."

  Chapter Two

  Claire Reed

  I hate my sister.

  That's an all too familiar, sarcastic phrase I've b
een muttering for years, but now, at this very moment, with the spotlights blinding me and a crowd of pervy men screaming at me to, "Come on, baby, show us your titties!" I really freaking loathe her.

  Mandy, aka the kinky porn star Eve Kelly, is passed out high as a kite in a hotel room, while I stand on stage in nothing but a white thong bikini pretending to be her slutty alter ego. As far as my squinting eyes can see, the entire strip club is packed full of disgusting, horny men. It's standing room only, and all eyes are on me. Now I know how all those deer feel when they’re stunned frozen by headlights. Thankfully, my heavy makeup is hiding my blush of extreme and utter embarrassment, not that any of these lovely gentlemen are looking at me above the neck. I know without a doubt these assholes are all thinking about what it'd be like to fuck me, or more specifically, my little sister in a multitude of dirty ways.

  Since I'm only thirteen months older, most people assume Mandy and I are twins. We're pretty much identical, except I have more meat on my bones compared to my sister's skeleton that's unfortunately sustained only by illegal substances nowadays. My thick, bronze colored hair is a touch shorter, just brushing my shoulders, and my eyes are light blue where hers are more of an in-between bluish-green hazel. Those three minor differences go unnoticed by all of her adoring fans in this crowd. In fact, her own asshole manager/boyfriend couldn't tell us apart, which is how I ended up here tonight, filling in for her. James is not happy with me at the moment, though, because I refused to go full nude. Nope. Not gonna happen. And even if the material I'm wearing is see through and doesn't leave much to the imagination, I refuse to flash these creeps my private girly parts, despite how many times they yell out the crude suggestion or how many green bills they wave at me.

  Knowing I can’t keep standing here frozen like Bambi, I reluctantly start swaying my hips and dropping it like it's hot on the pole as seductively as I can manage. Drop it like it's sort of lukewarm is a much more accurate description. There's no hiding the fact that I have zero rhythm, unlike my sister who could make even the cabbage patch and running man look sexy.

  Plastering on a fake smile and thrusting out my ample chest, I hope to distract from my incoordination. I stay in the middle of the stage as far away as possible from all the greedy hands reaching for me like a gang of hungry, flesh-eating zombies from The Walking Dead. Mentally I’m trying to concentrate on counting all the green currency raining down instead of having a full blown panic attack. My body feels like it’s overheating, making me wonder if I’ve actually died and gone to hell. I can’t imagine a more frightening place than the one I’m currently suffering in.

  Trying to cool myself down and look flirty, I lift my hair off my neck and wrap my legs around the pole, posing in what I hope is a provocative stance for one loonnngg, painfully awkward Nine Inch Nails song. It’s a lovely, ear-splitting ballad about a man who is desperate to fuck someone like an animal. What a sweet talker he is.

  Having never stepped foot inside of a strip club before, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do up here. When I asked, James told me to just shake my tits and ass. He’s so very helpful, but offered more advice than my sister whose response before we left the hotel was to simply continue drooling and snoring.

  Before the last notes of the perverted rock song, I quickly flee the stage. For the next two hours I'll be signing autographs and taking selfies with all these drunk bastards, while flirting with them like I'm a huge slut who loves sucking cock. Awesome. But at the end of the night, I'll have made five thousand dollars out of this little charade, putting us that much closer to finally paying off the thirty thousand my sister owes one of the local meathead loan sharks for advances on her drugs. Although, at the outrageous interest rate of twenty percent or some shit a day, the debt is likely more than that now. At least I'll have something to give Bobby Manus tomorrow when he tracks us down. Enough to hopefully keep him off our asses for another few days. Mandy better be glad our younger brother, Mason, and I both love her so much, otherwise we'd leave our sister to deal with her nine hundred ninety-ninth fuck up all on her own.

  Usually I pull at least fifty hour weeks waitressing in a steakhouse, and Mason earns his money in a few…illegal enterprises. After we pay for standard living expenses, that doesn’t leave a whole hell of a lot to throw at our sister’s vices. While Mandy makes a decent chunk of change for agreeing to star in pornos, that’s all the money she ever receives, despite how many copies are sold by the production company. It’s bullshit, but that’s how the industry works. The rich get rich off of the lowly “actresses” and the actresses live shitty lives, having to tour strip clubs to make a little extra money on the side. I try really hard not to think about what else my little sister does to earn money on the side. She’s a grown woman who refuses to listen to me, and it feels like I’m running out of options to try and save her from this latest downward spiral. I’m doing what I can, including humiliating myself to dig her out of the current shithole, but Mason and I can’t keep up this daily dose of disaster routine forever. It’s exhausting, and I’m so damn tired.

  ...

  Linc

  I slouch casually in the chair with my beer in my hand, tryin’ to enjoy the brunette humpin’ the stage, but I can't sit still. I'm jonesin’ for another hit of Eve after seein’ her standin’ under the spotlights in nothin’ but a clear, miniscule bikini. Even if she looked like she had a bad case of stage fright freezin’ her up tonight, that woman is so scorchin’ hot. My hard cock has a steady drip going on, eagerly offerin’ to be the one to put out her fire. It's his fault I'm fidgetin’ because he's tryin’ to talk me into some crazy shit like, “Go get her, big boy.” I respond with “What the fuck am I supposed to do, dickhead? Grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and run?” After that he calls me a pussy, and tells me to go jerk off in the bathroom. Now is neither the time nor place for me to put my hand in my pants, cock!

  Durin’ the argument with my dick, my eyes keep cuttin’ over to the table near the back where I know Eve's sittin’, but I can't see her. It's where the majority of men in the club have gathered around, tryin’ to get closer to sex personified. The woman puts all other females to shame, includin’ the women wanderin’ around the black lit club in nothin’ but thongs. While I may take a look at their asses and tits as they walk by because hell, I am a man, they're all...trashy compared to Eve who somehow manages to look like a pure and elegant saint, even though I know for a fact that the girl can flip the switch and suck a long, hard dick down her throat like a sexy, high powered Dirt Devil.

  "You gentlemen look like you could use a little one-on-one time," a bottle blonde stripper says to us. She smacks both of her palms flat down on the small circular table to give me, Nate, and Senn an unobstructed view of her perfectly round, fake tits. "Who wants to go first? How about you, sugar?" This is when I realize she's talkin’ to me.

  "Ah…" I start and glance over at Nate and Senn to see if either of them are interested in a private dance with her since I sure as fuck am not. Senn tips his chair back, balancin’ on just two legs to check out her ass, and then gives a slight shake of his head. He likes big butts and he cannot lie.

  Nate...I reach over next to me and close the ginger's jaw. "He'll go," I tell her. Pullin’ out my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, I hand the girl enough hundreds to keep her happy and the terminally single man entertained for a while.

  "You are the motherfuckin' man," Nate says with a slap to my shoulder when he stands up from the table to go get some titties rubbed in his face. "For the right price, I bet even Eve Kelly would dance for you," he tells me over his shoulder before he follows the blonde down the dark hallway.

  Genius! Hell, why didn't I think of that shit?

  As always, no other stripper in this place will do for a private dance now that I've seen Eve Kelly. I might as well become a monk because I don't know if I'll ever be able to fuck another woman again without Eve's porno on in the background. I will neither admit nor deny that I've done
such a thing in the past. And, okay, my less picky dick slightly disagrees with my proclamation, but even he admits he's fairly partial to the porn star.

  "Sadly, red beans and rice did miss her," Senn mutters before throwin’ back his bottle of beer, tellin’ me I had guessed accurately about the stripper’s lack of junk in her trunk.

  "There's gotta be a nice, juicy ass walkin’ around here somewhere for ya," I assure him.

  "You know who has a bangin' ass?" he asks with a smirk.

  I groan, knowin’ the frightening road we're unfortunately about to go down. "Don't fuckin’ say it-"

  "Your sister." He finishes the disturbin’ sentence despite my warnin’, makin’ me cringe.

  "You're gonna pay for that, fucker," I point a finger at him and promise. "Just wait until the doctor clears me. Bring your pillow when you step in the cage with me, 'cause you're gonna be takin’ a lonnng fuckin’ nap."

  "I bet I'll have some sweet ass dreams..." He pauses, still givin’ me that irritatin’ fuckin’ grin. "Of your sister."

  Leanin’ across Nate's now empty seat, I nail Senn in his shoulder hard with my right fist, backed by the force of my uninjured arm. He chuckles in response as he rubs a hand over the sore spot. "No seriously, though, when is Hales's fine ass coming home again?"

  "Fuck if I know. Not that I'd tell you if I did," I reply, tippin’ back my own bottle to swallow the last few sips of flat beer before sittin’ it on the table.

  "Ah come on! Just give me her fuckin’ phone number. Don’t you want me to be your brother-in-law?"

  I bark out a laugh at his overly optimistic statement. "Not a fuckin’ chance," I tell him.

  "Why the hell not?" he asks indignantly, squaring his shoulders.

  "Because every guy Hailey brings home is squeaky clean with an Ivy League degree hangin’ up in their fancy office. And you," I give him a quick once over. "You have shaggy hair that’s long enough for a goofy ass top knot, and are currently wearin’ a Big Johnson's Bar and Casino shirt that says, 'Liquor up front, poker in the rear.'"