by Unknown
When they spied the assortment of goods she carried three of the guys wasted no time in claiming them and ushering her inside. Brayden, a guy Caleb had tried to hook her up with before he seemed intent on her being with Brock, patted the seat next to him. Of course it was the only one available. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive, but he was more of a brawn and not so much brain type of guy. Izzy made her way over and sat down. She didn’t want to be rude and take one of the other empty seats, especially when he made it a point to want her to sit beside him.
He threw his arm over her shoulder, and she stiffened. “Tough week?”
Ugh, okay. “Not really.” She tried to move out from under him, but he scooted closer to her. The sound of numerous bottles being opened had her looking toward the kitchen. “I think I’m going to help get things set up.”
Before he could protest she was off the couch and in the kitchen. Someone stepped behind her, and she sighed in exasperation. “Listen, Brayden, I told you I wasn’t really interested, remember?” She turned around to see Maria right behind her with a huge smile on her face. “Oh, it’s you, thank God.”
Maria chuckled and ushered the men out of the kitchen. When they were as alone as they were going to be in their small house, Maria lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder.
“He still bugging you?” Maria followed her gaze to where Brayden was currently wagging his eyebrows at her.
“Ugh. If you mean getting on my fucking nerves every time I see him, and not understanding what ‘not interested’ means, then yeah, he’s bugging me.” Izzy started putting the chicken on plates and shrugged. “Not really. It’s not like he is a bad guy. He is just too dumb. I mean, draw the line somewhere, yah know?” Maria stood in front of her and held a bottle of wine in one hand and sympathy written all over her face.
“Sorry. Some of Caleb’s friends remind me of hormonal teenage boys. Come on, let’s get tipsy.”
“What a lifesaver.” Izzy grabbed a glass for herself and the bottle. After popping the cork and topping off Maria’s glass, she filled hers to the brim. She needed the alcohol, because it would help her get her mind off her very sexy roommate, all the not so friendly things she wanted to do with him, and the fact Brayden would be trying to get her into bed for the rest of the night.
****
The house was quiet when she entered. Looking behind her she waved at Caleb, who had driven her drunk ass home. Too many glasses of wine to count and lots of laughs and Izzy was feeling pretty-fucking-spectacular. The wall clock ticked, and that rhythmic noise seemed deafening loud in the room. It was late, and she was hoping to hear the shower running. Maybe she could “accidentally” walk in on him like she did that one time. Talk about instantly wet and needing to get herself off. The sight of all his hard, defined muscles had turned her on to the point she had gone to her room and pulled out her own Terminator while she thought about Brock.
The fact she wanted him was her dirty little secret. Well, Caleb and Maria knew, but she hadn’t told them outright. Caleb had guessed, and because she couldn’t lie worth a shit, he had known. The he went and told Maria, which wasn’t bad since she would have told her anyway since Caleb already knew, but aside from that she hadn’t divulged her feelings to anyone, especially not her brother.
Being more of a homebody, Izzy liked her privacy, liked not being noticed, and wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. She may work at a sex shop, which might have seemed strange since it was a pretty out there job for someone so closed off, but there were no preconceived notions being there. She didn’t have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t, and she didn’t have to try to please her boss or co-workers since the only other people who worked there were Caleb and the owner. Everyone who entered knew what they wanted, didn’t judge, and went on their way. Had that been what she wanted to do growing up? Hell no, but the pay was decent, and that was where she’d met Caleb, and then Maria shortly after.
She thought about Brock again, of course, and wondered if she’d ever have the balls to say something to him. Never had she met a man that was so masculine, so alpha that he seemed more animalistic than human. He was a predator, and she wanted to be his prey. Desperately. Right now, as the alcohol had her feeling warm and brave, she could have said something to him. Maybe she should just strip out of her clothes, walk into his room, and slip into his bed beside him? She was certain he wouldn’t turn down sex, because really, what guy did? But what if he did? What if he kicked her out and then she was mortified and still had to live with him? No, she may be drunk, but she wasn’t a stupid drunk.
Weaving to the living room and setting her keys on the small table next to the door, she bent over, carefully, and slipped her shoes off. Before she could head to her room Brock’s door opened, and she froze. She was partially in the living room, the shadows concealing her enough that she knew Brock couldn’t see her. He walked down the hall, and for a moment all Izzy could do was stare at his body. Wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, he looked like he could snap bones as easily as toothpicks. His shoulders were broad, and tapered down to a narrow waist. He rounded the corner, and she got a good, unobstructed view of his chest. Hard, outlined pecs, an abdomen that rivaled paint rollers, and that ridiculously stark muscle shaped like a V that she only ever saw in movies and magazines. How her brother, who buried himself in his studies for his Master’s degree and had a lanky swimmer’s body, knew a man like Brock was beyond her. But thank the lord she had been introduced to him. It had occurred to her that maybe her bother had a wild streak of his own, and had actually gone to an underground fight. Of course asking him was like trying to get into Fort Knox, because even if she knew they happened right in the city of Absinthe, where she lived, it wasn’t something people talked about.
Izzy wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship with Brock, because she knew he wasn’t that kind of guy, but she felt no shame in letting loose and wanting only one thing, especially when she had a little liquid courage racing through her system. What she wanted was the one thing he was always more than willing to give random women, well that was always the conclusion she had come to, but she certainly didn’t think a man like him, who looked like him, stayed abstinent. Izzy could make sure things stayed the same between them. It was only one night she wanted, after all, so why not just go for it? That, right there, was the million dollar question, and one she didn’t know if she would ever be able to answer.
Her drunkenness dimmed as she stared at him in all his half-naked glory. Mouth gone dry as she watched Brock’s massive and muscular back flex, Izzy wanted to run her hands down the wide expanse, lick the indentation of his spine, and press her breasts against him. Her nipples were already hard as rock, and she knew if she could just press her bare skin to his it would ease the torture that was currently claiming her body. The build-up of her arousal over the last six months seemed to settle right between her thighs, and intensify the longer she stood here and stared at him. His very mundane act of drinking a glass of water was so devilishly sexy, that her panties were soaked all the way through. He set the glass in the sink, and instead of turning he braced his hands on the counter and hung his head.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude as hell to stare at someone, especially in the dark?” He looked at her from over his shoulder, but the shadows concealed his face far too well. That didn’t matter, because she could see his short black hair, his pale grey eyes, and his very male square cut jaw. He also had a hint of day old stubble gracing his cheeks, which was a ridiculous turn-on. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not responding to a question is also rude?”
He turned fully around, leaned against the counter, and crossed his thick arms over his chest. Tendons and muscles flexed right before her eyes, and the light from his open bedroom door slashed across his body. His knuckles were slightly visible, and she could see the nearly formed scabs lining them. A nasty cut marred his right eyebrow, but the whole appearance was so roughly handsome she actually took a
step closer to him. One of his dark eyebrows rose, and she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“I didn’t mean to…” Glancing down Izzy was suddenly struck with being tongue-tied. Did he see her blatantly checking him out? For as much as she knew about Brock, and from how she had watched him interact with people, she should have known nothing got by him.
“Go on, Izzy, answer me.” She didn’t answer right away, and he took a step toward her. “You better tell me someone drove you home.”
God, he was so direct, so commanding. He expected to be obeyed in all things, and the very female part of her was so drawn to that fact.
“Nothing to say?” He took another step forward, and another, until they stood toe-to-toe. He searched her face, and where she was breathing fast and hard, he was calm, steady, and so very in control. “Why don’t you just say it?”
Izzy licked her lips, and Brock lowered his gaze to watch the act. “I didn’t mean to be rude. That wasn’t my intention. And yes, my friend brought me home.”
God, she sounded breathy and aroused. He didn’t respond, but she did see the way a muscle in his jaw ticked right under the scruffy skin. She could push her fear aside, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him like she needed it to breathe, or she could escape like a frightened little rabbit. Wanting to do something was a hell of a lot easier than actually following through with it, so like the coward she was, Izzy whispered goodnight, ducked away, and rushed to her room. Once the door was shut behind her she leaned against it and closed her eyes. The sound of her heart beating fast and wild filled her ears like the sound of the ocean crashing on the shore. Moments later she heard the heavy sounds of Brock making his way down the hallway. Would he stop and knock on her door? Holding her breath as she heard his footsteps cease right on the other side of her bedroom door, she waited to see if he would make a move. A second later he retreated to his room, and she was left feeling depressingly empty, and extremely sexually frustrated, but that was totally her fault.
Chapter Two
Brock shut the door behind him and clenched his hands into fists. Shit, he had been right on the brink of pressing Izzy to the wall, taking her mouth in a bruising kiss, and shoving his hand down her pants. She had been drunk though, and no matter how much he wanted her he didn’t fuck drunk chicks. He knew she was wet, knew if he would have pressed her a little further she would have bent to him. But he wanted her to come to him, wanted her complete surrender, and there was no doubt he would get it. The only problem was when would she come to him willingly?
His cock was annoyingly hard, but it had been for the past six months. All she had to do was walk by and the fucker came to attention. Easing his arousal with random females did nothing but make his desire for her worse, and fighting never fully helped ease the frenzied energy always coursing through him. He wanted Izzy Castle, and soon he’d have her. That wasn’t even a question. When her brother Lane, a guy he had met at a few of the fights he had been involved in, and a mutual friend of the guys he hung out with, had told him his little sister had a room for rent, Brock had been all over that. He had come to Absinthe, Ohio with another fighter, London, knowing that the town wasn’t only named after the illegal alcohol, but also known around the country for their illegal fighting circuit. He now trained with the Harlond McGrieve, a guy that used to fight professionally back in the day, and was an expert in everything MMA. So now here he was, staying with Lane’s little sister, and a walking hard-on ever since. Of course he hadn’t thought living with Lane’s sister would be a problem, but fuck had he been wrong. Lane was a lean guy that had his nose in a book during his free time. In fact, for as straitlaced as Lane was, he was surprised he had seen him at an underground fight at all. Izzy was the total opposite of her brother, with dark red hair instead of blond and blue eyes instead of Lane’s brown. She drove Brock crazy. He wasn’t all about the stick thin females with the fake tits, although that was usually what he went for. It seemed better to be with women that he wouldn’t ever have gone for if he was looking for something meaningful. Besides, the females he was with only wanted sex, same as he did. Izzy was all woman with her big real breasts, thighs made to wrap around a man’s waist, and a rounded belly. He had always had a thing for bigger girls, and redheads to boot. She was his ideal girl, but for the longest time he had classified her as unattainable because she was his friend’s sister and his roommate. Getting with that would have just opened a bunch of problems for him in the end.
But with each passing month he had shoved his “rules” about not being able to have her to the side, said fuck it, and started letting himself enjoy the sight of her, and the idea of getting between her thighs. He had never been a guy that wanted more than one night with a girl, but Izzy was different, and he could actually see having so much more with her. Yeah, it was a fucked-up situation, and he made it even more so because he could be a bastard at times. She was a female he should probably stay away from, because having these feelings for her was new and unusual, but dammit he didn’t fucking care anymore. At thirty years old he was sick of the random sex, was sick of the females who clamored toward him right after a fight because they were high on the win. Izzy didn’t look at him as a fighter, but as a man. He could sense her arousal for him, and the saccharine scent of her need was like a fucking icepick right to his cock. He gripped said body part, and the damn thing jerked in his grasp. It would be easy to jack off, to ease the heavy ache that settled in his balls, but he didn’t want to get off that way. Brock wanted to be so deep inside of her sweet pussy that every hard inch of him was incased in her wet heat. He knew she would be wet, fucking soaked for him.
It was after midnight and he had to be up in just a few short hours for training, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get any rest, not when every time he closed his eyes he saw the hard points of her nipples pressing against her shirt, or the way her pupils dilated as she took in his bare torso. It was going to be one hell of a sleepless night.
****
The next morning Izzy lay in the center of her bed and stared at the ceiling. It was only six, and she was exhausted. Sleep had been impossible last night, and never had she thought insomnia could be so very real because of not getting laid. Masturbating had only seemed to make it worse, especially when she knew Brock was just right down the hall.
She crawled out of bed and headed into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Even though it was an ungodly early hour, she knew Brock wouldn’t be home. He was up and gone by five at the latest. His strict training schedule left little time for recreational activities, but he sure as hell made the time to fuck. She groaned and rested her forehead on the tile. The water was hot as she could stand, but the steady beating of the droplets on her flesh, and the thoughts of Brock and fucking, had her slipping her hand between her thighs to try to relieve the annoying ache. Deciding not to bring herself to completion because it only seemed to make matters worse, she finished washing, got out and dried herself off, and put on an old pair of sweats and a holey shirt. Staying in while she was overly sexually frustrated sounded like a good idea, at least for right now.
After a morning of eating Lucky Charms and watching reruns of Roseanne, Izzy started to get restless. The smell of Brock took up every inch of the house, or maybe it was just she was extremely sensitive and picked up on it? Either way, staying home didn’t really sound like that much fun anymore. Maybe Caleb and Maria would want to go out tonight, and help her let loose, maybe even find a safe, normal guy to flirt with? If Brock was anything, it certainly wasn’t normal, but that was said in the best possible of ways.
She picked up her phone and called Caleb and Maria. Maria answered on the third ring. In all honesty Maria and Caleb were the only ones she trusted, and they didn’t judge her in any way.
“Hey.” Izzy leaned back on the couch and reached for the remote to mute the television.
“Hey, girl. What’s up?” The sound of Caleb talking in the background came through the receiver. “Would
you shut the hell up for a minute?” There was no heat behind Maria’s words as she shouted at Caleb. He muttered something else before his voice finally disappeared. “Sorry about that. He’s having his man-period today, and has been bitching about everything and anything.”
Izzy laughed. “Hey, what are you guys doing tonight?”
“Nothing, why?”
“Well, I wanted to know if you wanted to keep a lonely and pathetic girl company tonight. Maybe hit up The Rhino Room?” The newly built club on the edge of Absinthe was busy every day of the week. It had a retro/modern feel to it with cages hanging from the ceiling, and Go-Go dancers writhing away inside of them. It was also a club she hadn’t been to yet because she had been too afraid to go by herself. Well now she wanted to let loose, wanted to shake her ass like everyone else, and not worry about anything but having a good time.
“Seriously?”
Izzy clamped her lips together even though Maria couldn’t see her. “Yeah, I know, pretty hard to believe.” Maria started laughing, which had Izzy doing the same thing. “But seriously, I’m sick of being cooped up in the house—”
“You mean you’re sick of wanting that bad boy fighter Brock?”
She sighed and said, “Yeah, and that, too.”
“Listen, you don’t need to convince me to go out and get drunk. I don’t think Caleb’s picking up an extra shift tonight at the nasty store, so you know we are game.” Why Maria insisted on calling the sex shop by that name was beyond her, but it always had Izzy smiling. “How about we pick you up at like nine? Caleb can be our DD and drag our drunk asses home.”
It sounded like a plan. Izzy just hoped she didn’t regret it in the morning by bringing some Coyote Ugly home with her.
****