The Cocky Cage Fighter Six Book Box Set

by Lane Hart

  “Purse,” I say, and he grumbles before reaching back inside the cab to retrieve it for me. “Thanks,” I tell him when he hands it to me.

  The dial on our libidos ramps up, knowing we’re within range of somewhere to fuck. Senn’s cock hardens between my legs, and then our mouths are attacking each other.

  “Which apartment?” He breaks away long enough to ask.

  “Second floor. 2-D,” I tell him before we go right back to sucking each other’s face.

  “Key,” Senn says, pressing my back against a hard surface. My door, I realize when I come up for air and dig in my purse for my keys. I offer them to Senn, who unlocks the door for us. As soon as we’re inside, the keys and purse clatter to the ground and the door shuts, just before I’m slammed against the wall. Vaguely I think to myself that’s gonna leave a big dent, but I bet he’ll so make it worth losing my deposit.

  Senn ravages my mouth while he holds me up with one hand and undresses me with the other. Well, the top and bottom of my dress meet along my waist, which is apparently good enough for him. I reach for the zipper of his jeans impatiently when he doesn’t make any move to do it himself. Fisting his cock, I pull him out.

  “Oh God!” I moan at just the light touch of his long, steel shaft brushing against my clit. “Condom. You’ve got one, right?” I ask.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he replies. Yanking out his wallet, he removes a foil package, and tosses the no longer needed leather accessory carelessly over his shoulder.

  “Hurry up,” I order him. He pauses with the unopened wrapper in his hand and lifts one dark eyebrow. Right away, I know I’m gonna regret those two words. He rocks forward, rubbing himself on me, teasing me.

  “Uh God.” I moan and squirm as much as I can on the wall, trying to find a way to get more friction. “Please.”

  “Please what?” he asks like the asshole he is. But I ain’t too proud to beg for it.

  “Fuck me.”

  “Say my name,” he orders. Oh I have a name for him, all right.

  “Just fuck me, you giant, cocksucking chode!” I exclaim in exasperation.

  Senn throws his head back and chuckles. “Here,” he says, offering the condom. “Put it on me.”

  I tear the package open, and then flip it this way and that to try and unroll it, showing my lack of experience. Of course I’m not a virgin, but Linc and I never used condoms since we were each other’s first and I was on birth control pills. There have only been three other guys since him, two one-night stands and a boyfriend that only lasted a few months. But I’ve never put a condom on a man before.

  With Senn towering over me, I feel like a naïve teenage girl getting ready to have her mind blown by a man who should have a doctorate in fucking since he’s been at it for so long. Carelessly screwing his way through woman after woman. He’s the opposite of Linc, who loved me with everything he had to give, until I lost our baby and ran away. Now…now Linc’s marrying someone else, and I…I have to try to survive cancer again. I’m not scared of dying. I’m terrified of dying alone, without ever having someone love me that way again.

  Instead of laughing at me, Senn’s face is dead serious when I look back up at him with tears in my eyes.

  “You’re thinking about him,” he says, a statement not a question. I lower my gaze, trying to blink away the tears. “Do you want to stop?” he asks.

  I shake my head, knowing full well I’m ruining the mood. The passion of being in the moment is fleeting, and I just ran it off.

  “Abby,” Senn says softly. “You’ve got to let that shit go. Forget him and be in the here and now with me. You just gave me the best head of my life in the backseat of a cab. Where did that girl go? I liked her. She was sexy as fuck.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “Oh, yeah,” he says, leaning forward to kiss my neck with tongue. God, that one touch is all it takes to make me melt in a puddle of gooey lust. “Tomorrow I’ll tell him. Not your name,” he interjects quickly before I can protest. “I’ll tell him about the fine as fuck woman who came up and propositioned me for a night of mind-blowing sex. How good it felt to have her suck my cock in the backseat of a taxi. How tight and wet her pussy was when I licked it.” His mouth moves down to capture my nipple. “That the little slut let me do anything I wanted to her all night long.” I wiggle when his teeth nip and tug a little on the sensitive skin in his mouth. And then my breath rushes out of my lungs, feeling him position himself between my legs. “I’ll remind him that he’s only gonna have sex with one woman, one boring woman, for the rest of his long life when he could’ve been fucking in backseats and pounding your pussy into a wall so loud the neighbors can hear.”

  Senn shifts his hips and thrust into me, making me cry out to the ceiling when my head falls back against the wall. After my breasts start to rub against his shirt, I realize the major mistake I’ve made here and resolve it in seconds, tugging his shirt over his head.

  Oh. My. God. Watching him workout across the gym is one thing, but up close like this with his wide shoulders, defined pecs and rippling abs pressed against me…my pussy clamps down harder on his cock, never wanting to let this one go.

  “Holy shit, holy shit. Holy. Fucking. Shit,” Senn mutters against my ear. “Best chokehold ever.”

  “Harder,” I demand with a tug of his hair. Doing as I asked, he pulls back and then rams into me over and over again, making me gasp and both of us yell obscenities. “Uh fuck! Don’t stop! So close.”

  Reaching down between our bodies, he presses his fingertips to my clit.

  “God yes!” I exclaim.

  “You like that? Gonna come for me?” he asks.

  My fingers untangle from his hair, and my hands roam down to his thick shoulders, over his expansive chest. “I could come just looking at you.”

  When Senn stops moving, I realize I said that aloud and instantly regret it. He’ll never let me live it down. “I’d rather you come with me inside you,” he says, drawing my eyes up to his when he doesn’t say something arrogant. “Or on my tongue.”

  My breath hitches, and my lower belly tightens and floods with warmth at the reminder of being upside down on his lap with his tongue between my legs.

  “When was the last time you had your pussy licked?” he asks.

  “Years,” I answer, resting my head against the wall and enjoying the sensation of him seated and pulsing deep inside me but not moving.

  “Really? Cause that’s the first time I had my tongue in a pussy in years.”

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  “I don’t tongue fuck just any cunt,” he says with a smirk before his hips start thrusting again, taking me higher, especially with his fingers still working my clit. “Now, every time I see you at Havoc, I’m gonna be thinking about how you smell like fresh squeezed lemonade in the summertime and how good this tight pussy tastes creaming all over my face.”

  “Oh God,” I moan when my pussy starts to throb like it has its own out-of-control heartbeat.

  “Abby’s homemade lemon meringue pie. Mmm-mmm. I could bury my face in your pie. Every. Single. Night.”

  “Uhh God!” I scream when I come, thinking about his head between my legs, eating me up like he couldn’t get enough.

  “Fuck, you feel so good.” Senn groans when he keeps pounding into me. “Squeeze me dry, baby. Fuck yes!”

  The room spins and goes dark. Thank goodness Senn’s holding me up or I would’ve fallen. I hold on to his shoulders while we both ride out the pleasure that seems to go on and on forever. Finished, and spent, Senn rests his sweaty head in the crook of my neck, his breath warm and heavy on my neck. He gives the outside of my thigh three consecutive pats.

  “I submit,” he says. “You can relax now.”

  I giggle, realizing he was tapping out because my pussy was still clinching around his cock. When he lowers my feet to the ground, I sink down, taking the condom with me.

  “Oh shit,” he says before going in and fishing it out with his fingers.
“That’s a first. Your pussy was on lockdown.”

  That has me giggling again. I’m high on endorphins and still a little tipsy mixed with sleepy. It’s a great combination, but I have no more energy. When Senn goes in search of a bathroom, I sink down onto the floor to rest. A few minutes later, and he’s lifting me into his arms and carrying me down the hall to my bedroom. As soon as my head hits the pillow, so does reality. He’s gonna get dressed and leave now, I just know it. And then I’ll spend another lonely night in my bed, just like all the others, and all the ones to come. So sad and pathetic. Partially my own fault for hanging on to the past. I really do need to let it go. Maybe Linc’s wedding is a blessing in disguise and will give me the closure I need to move on.

  Shimmying out of my dress so that I’m more comfortable, I look over at the side of the bed. Senn’s standing there with his hands on the top of his jeans, like he’s not sure if he’s coming or going. Going I’m sure, after he got what he came for. I stare at his incredible upper body that’s still shirtless. The big, strong body of a fighter. Even after the orgasms I had earlier, just the sight of him is enough to get me turned on again. So I reach down between my legs and touch myself while I look at him. My lips part on a gasp of pleasure, and I have to lick them when they go dry. I imagine running my tongue over every indent, every inch of his magnificent body, until my own trembles with a release. On a sigh of satisfaction, I curl up on my side and close my eyes, ready to float into dreamland when the mattress dips.

  Senn’s warm, hard body presses against the front of mine. He reaches for my hands, sucking the arousal off the fingers that were between my legs before placing my arms around his neck. I hold on to him tightly, snuggling up against his chest, while his hands go down to rest on my ass.

  “Goodnight,” I say softly, almost afraid I’ll break whatever spell this is that has him sleeping in my bed.

  “Goodnight,” he replies with a kiss to my forehead.

  In the comfort of his arms, I start to drift off to sleep, wishing he wouldn’t leave in the morning, but knowing he will, probably before I wake up. Men like Senn don’t ever settle down, especially not with a girl like me, with an expiration date.

  But tonight, when the world feels like it’s crumbling around me, at least someone is here, holding me and kissing me like he can’t live without me. And that is something I know I’ll never forget, even if it’s only for one night.

  ###

  Nate

  A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel

  By Lane Hart

  COPYRIGHT

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.

  © 2016 Editor's Choice Publishing

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” at the address below.

  Editor’s Choice Publishing

  P.O. Box 10024

  Greensboro, NC 27404

  Edited by Angela Snyder

  Cover by vocaldesign

  https://www.fiverr.com/vocaldesign

  Photo ©istockphoto.com

  WARNING: THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES 18+ ONLY. THE STORY CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND EXPLICIT SEX SCENES, INCLUDING A REFERENCE TO AN M/M RELATIONSHIP!

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  For my husband since this is probably the last time I'll let him pick the fight song.

  Prologue

  Nathan Lewis

  Pulling the bill of my black Wildcats cap down lower to cover more of my face, I walk up to the bar and I climb up on the third stool from the left. The same one I first sat in without a thought three years ago. Since then I’ve deliberately chosen the same seat for the past few years.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asks while placing a coaster in front of me.

  “Two Jack and cokes,” I say without meeting his eyes. Not that he would recognize me or anything. I’m just not in the mood to be social. Tonight I’ve retreated into my shell a little further than usual but I felt an obligation to come back here.

  I can’t believe it’s been three fucking years today; and despite what they say, it definitely hasn’t gotten any easier. In a way, it feels like just last week when I stubbornly decided to walk into this place. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret that decision more than any I’ve ever made. Sure, there are lots of other regrets, but none as prominent as that one.

  On the other hand, though, that day almost seems like a different lifetime. I was different. Hell, I am different because I can’t let it go. I can’t move on from reliving in great detail every single second down to the last one, and it’s driving me fucking insane. Jabbing my thumb and index finger into my closed eyelids, I try to physically prevent the stupid tears from falling.

  “Here you go,” the bartender says, pushing the two drinks in front of me.

  “Thanks,” I say, having to clear my throat to even speak that one word.

  After placing a few bills down on the bar, I pick up one of the glasses of dark liquid and hold it in the air before giving a silent toast.

  “Happy Birthday, E. I still miss you every goddamn day.”

  With a clink against the other symbolic glass, I take a sip and let the alcohol start to numb me from the inside out.

  “This seat taken?” a masculine voice on my left asks. My empty fist clenches where it rests on top of my jean-covered thigh with the urge to reach over and throat punch the asshole for intruding on my private memorial and taking that seat of all the available choices. Since I can’t exactly assault someone in public and get away with it, I sigh and finally answer.

  “Nope, all yours,” I tell the stranger without giving him a cursory glance.

  I’m not angry at him; I’m angry at myself. Why do I keep coming back here any fucking way? Am I gonna be the thirty-something or, hell, the forty-something single man who does this routine in ten or fifteen years from now? How pathetic, and yet appropriate that I remain a single bachelor for all of eternity. Honestly, I can’t even imagine an alternative at this point.

  “Never seen you here before. Are you, ah, new to the area?” the stranger asks, making me grit my teeth. The last thing I want to do right now is to endure chitchat with some jackass.

  “Look, I’m not really feeling all that talkative, so do you mind giving it a rest?” I ask, finally deciding to shoot a glare at the interloper. I never actually get a glimpse of the stranger’s face because my eyes are immediately drawn to the man standing on the other side of him. The one in a long, black jacket. Or more specifically, my eyes track the movement of his hand pulling out a big ass gun from his waistband.

  “Get down!” I shout in warning as I push the man next to me off his stool to lunge for the gunman.
Grabbing his wrist, I twist it until I hear the bone pop causing the pistol to clatter to the ground. With a cry of pain, the man bends over, scrambling to grab the weapon from the floor, or at least he tries to, but my knee comes up and smashes into his face, years of training kicking in without a conscious thought.

  Fuck.

  When his nose starts pouring blood, I nearly retch like a fountain all over the bar. Swallowing down the Jack and coke for the second time, I take deep, open-mouthed breaths to keep the nausea at bay.

  “Call 9-1-1 and, um, maybe tell them to send an ambulance for this fucker,” I’m finally able to instruct the bartender over my shoulder as I lower the now limp gunman the rest of the way to the ground. Goddamn it. Seeing his blood splattered all over my jeans and shoes takes me right back to the night of the accident. I start to feel lightheaded and have to grab hold of the bar with my right hand to keep myself on my feet.

  Once the vertigo clears, I yank on the left sleeve of my black Henley to cover my hand and gingerly pick up the pistol by the butt with the fabric. I set it on the other side of the bar in case the snoozing man wakes up.

  “Holy shit,” someone behind me mutters, which is when I realize that the entire bar has gone silent. Even the music that’s usually blaring through the speaker system must have been shut off. As I glance around, everyone’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed and staring at me right before the place erupts into cheering and clapping.

  Great. Way to lay low.

  At least I was able to take out some of my pent-up aggression on the dude sprawled on the floor. Studying his crumpled form, he looks like any other normal middle-aged man - salt and pepper hair that was once probably jet black with a few days’ worth of beard in the same condition. He doesn’t exactly seem like the type of man to go balls out by shooting the place up. No, he looks like he could be friends with my dad or any other middle-class guy.