by Brooke May
“She used to.” Katie throws her head onto my chest, looking up to meet my gaze.
“I want to kiss you. Will I get germs?”
Her eyes twinkle. “Only ones that mark you as mine.”
“Good,” I growl. Leaning down, I kiss her only to hear gagging sounds from Scott. Smugly, I warn him. “One day this will be you too, fuc- as-”
Shit, I can’t cuss!
“You will be miserable and happy all at once.”
“Not going to happen, C.”
“There is someone out there, Scott, who will knock you out.” I pull Katie up into my arms, thrilled at how her body responds to mine. “Just like Katie did to me.”
Scott drops it, deciding that no matter what, Katie and I will be right. Instead, he turns his focus to help Marissa with her castle. Only, he fails to get in her good graces when he accidentally makes one wall collapse and the other walls follow.
That ended our day at the beach. Katie carried a crying Marissa back to the car, who then refused to have Scott sit next to her.
“Way to piss her off.” I slug him in the arm as we load the blanket and bag up before heading back to the hotel.
“I suck when it comes to kids, girls pretty much.”
“I figured.” I look back at Marissa who is glaring at the back of Scott’s head. “What if Uncle Scott buys you something you really want? Will he be forgiven?”
“No.”
“What if I beat him up?”
That earns me a smile. “Yes!” She giggles.
“Marissa Fiona, that is not the answer; Uncle Scott is sorry for ruining your castle, right?” Katie interjects.
“Yes, I’m really sorry, mini.” And like that, Scott is forgiven. It doesn’t mean I won’t still kick his ass for upsetting my daughter tomorrow morning, though.
XOXO
ONE.
TWO.
THREE.
One.
Two.
Three.
Over and over again, I continue to drive my fists into the heavy bag hanging in front of me. Scott has made himself scarce today after the beating I gave him yesterday. It was all in good nature, though; I didn’t maim him or anything. Instead of training with me, he is off doing ‘uncle things’ with Marissa. Just the two of them. Yeah, nothing scary about that.
I stayed here and am trying to focus on pumping myself up for tomorrow night’s fight rather than my sexy woman running on the treadmill behind me.
Why do gyms and fitness centers have to have mirrors everywhere? Every time I look up to steady the fucking bag, I see Katie running in her tight, barely-there shorts, her sports bra, and her tight shirt. I will seriously blow a vein if any guy comes waltzing in and starts eye fucking her. I knew I should have told her to put a bigger shirt on.
I stop and steady the bag once more, clocking my shirt draped over the chair between us.
Glad I stripped that off.
I’ll throw it on her if someone comes in. The steady pounding of her feet hitting the treadmill draws my attention back to my panda.
She has her earbuds in, ignoring my selection of Def Leopard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” while she runs.
Yeah, that’s not helping my situation.
A light layer of sweat glistens on her body, gathering in certain places but dripping off in others. My eyes draw to her face that is staring blankly past me while she continues to run.
My woman is a machine.
I continue my journey down her body, coming to a stop as I transfix on the bounce of her tits. They could hypnotize me if I stared long enough.
Up, down, up, down; over and over again.
My dick draws to attention. The poor fucker has had a massive case of blue balls every morning for the past week. Hell, I’ve had blue balls for the past four years, yet instead of giving into what I want most, I’m prolonging my hell.
Katie had a nice rack before. They were small little things that I could easily paw with my massive hands, but now … fuck, now they are gorgeous! She had to have gone from a B cup to a least a D cup. I weep with how happy I am that they haven’t gone away as she worked to get her body back into shape after having Marissa.
A filthy grin crosses my face as I think of how much bigger they would get with another pregnancy. I never thought I was a boob man until I finally got a hold of Katie’s; they are perfect, soft, and fuck …
“Chamberlain? Are you okay?” I just nod at the boobs that have now stopped bouncing. “Chamberlain?” Katie sings my name and bends down until our eyes meet. “Hi.” She shoots me a breathtaking smile.
“Hi,” I croak out and try to focus back on the heavy bag still between my hands.
“See something you like?” She gets off the treadmill, grabbing a towel, and comes over to me. God, I want to be that towel right now. I could be all over her …
I drop my hands to my sides and move away from the heavy bag. Walking with power over to the mat, I turn to her. “Get over here.” I grunt out as I drop my gloves to the floor beside the mat. When she doesn’t come right over, I turn my heated eyes up to her. I know she won’t resist them. She was walking but is now frozen in place. Her eyes wide and her breathing is rapidly picking up as I stare her down. She knows this look. It’s a look that has only ever been for her.
“Baby, come here.” Extending my hand, I beckon her to come to me. Like a magnet to metal, we are drawn to one another. She comes to stand on the mat before me, dropping her towel next to my gloves on her way. I look one last time at the doors and pray no one tries to interrupt us.
“Ch-Chamberlain?” Katie shifts nervously. I don’t give her a chance to escape when I pull her hot, sweaty body flush against the hard plains of mine. A sharp gasp comes out as her hands press against my bare chest. My hands cup her ass, kneading to the point that I’m sure my fingerprints will bruise her. I bend forward to devour her mouth. With her nearly bare chest hitting heavily against mine, my erection grows more painful that I thought possible.
Effortlessly, I lift Katie up my body, keeping her succulent ass until her legs find their positions resting on my hips. Instead of removing them to take up a place higher up her body, I keep her close to me as I grind my straining dick against her hot center. Even through her panties and shorts, I can tell she is wet for me.
She moans as our lips rip apart only to hungrily attack me again. She crawls her way up my body to somehow get closer. “Chamberlain.” She rapidly breathes my name into my ear while my shaking hands push down her shoulders to keep her right where I want her.
I feel like a starving man standing in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Without breaking the contact, I drop us to the mat and lower Katie’s back down all the while she assaults my neck with light bites mixed with open-mouth kisses. “Chamberlain.” She arches up against me, trying to end our torture.
“I know, baby.” I run my stubble-covered chin over her soft one, my fingers ghosting down her stomach and hedging along the seam of her tight black spandex workout shorts.
“Please.” Her hold on me becomes carnal, hungry, and needy as her fingers lace tighter into my hair, and she pulls my mouth back to hers. I could never refuse this woman anything.
My fingers slip easily into the front of her shorts. I groan when I find nothing obstructing my descent to the one place that connects us, binds us as man and woman, and entwines our souls. “Ah, fuck,” I mutter against her neck as I move my way up her lower lips, finding her drenched, completely soaked, and ready just for me. “You’re soaked, Katie. Fuck.” My rough thumb circles her swollen clit before pressing down on it. “When was the last time you were wet? The last time you came?” I’m condemning myself here, but I have to know.
“Ooww.” Her back bows as I trace her entrance with my middle finger, and my index finger continues to tease her clit.
“Tell me, baby.” I can’t move my head back to look into her eyes even if I wanted to; her hands still have a death grip on my hair. Not that I mind; it fires up my he
art and pumps my blood hotter and faster when she gets aggressive.
“Last time … with … you.” She moans out quickly, panting, and violently thrusting herself up for me to ease the pain she is gaining and relieve her for the first time in forever. I bite my lip and twitch as I try to control what I really want to do, which is rip off all our clothes and thrust my dick so far into her that there is no denying her body, heart, and soul belong to me.
“So wet,” I hiss as my fingers ease inside her. We both let out a collective moan. “So. Fucking. Tight.” I don’t know if I can hold myself back anymore, knowing what has been waiting for me. I feel like a thirteen-year-old all over again, about to bust a nut in my shorts.
Slowly, gently, I slide my finger in and out of her, keeping the rhythm with my thumb as it increases and decreases pressure on her clit. Her breathing becomes erratic. Finally, her hold abandons my hair and goes for my shoulders where her nails dig in. I’m sure they will leave marks, but that urges me on more.
“Cham—” Katie’s head rolls back as her back arches fully off the mat, and she starts to convulse.
She’s close.
I had always heard that finding a woman’s G-spot was difficult and at times a complete myth, but I know my woman’s spot well. Without missing a beat, I slip my finger out and add my middle finger while the fingers of my other hand seek out her nipple under her sports bra to pinch, tease, and elongate it. I hook my two fingers up, and Katie nearly head-butts me as she comes off the mat with a scream, only to bury her face in my shoulder and bite down.
Her walls tighten so much that I don’t know how my dick will survive inside but still want it more than anything. The biting grip on my shoulder eases after a minute, and she falls back on the mat, looking at me with droopy eyes in her orgasm-induced daze.
I shower kisses all over her face while bringing my hand out of her shorts to lick them clean. The look she gives me as I clean them off tells me she is ready for another round. I sit back on my knees and start to work on the strings of my shorts to free myself when I stop.
Katie’s expression goes from lustful to frightened in a matter of a couple of seconds. She quickly scrambles away from me and adjusts herself as I fall back on my ass as a couple of women walk into the gym. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself and glance down at my dick. “Sorry buddy, not now,” I say quietly to myself so no one can hear.
Katie throws me a look and jerks her head to the door, signaling for to me to leave while she distracts the women. I stand and try to walk like I don’t have a massive, throbbing hard-on in my shorts and stride out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Katie
“BE GOOD FOR Fiona, okay?” I kiss Marissa.
“Yes, Mommy.” She skips away from me to her daddy. “Win, Daddy.” She hugs his leg and off she goes to play.
“I will,” he grunts, too focused on his fight that is only a few hours away now. After what happened yesterday morning in the hotel gym, Chamberlain has been so tense. I kind of feel sorry for James ‘The Rebel’ Clede, his opponent.
Chamberlain never got his release after he fled the gym while I randomly talked to two women who kept trying to look around me at Chamberlain’s retreating frame. Thank goodness for two entrances into the gym. When I got to our suite, he was already under the steady stream of a cold shower, and I was about to join him to ease his tension when Marissa pulled my attention away.
For the rest of the day, every time Chamberlain cornered me and had me to himself, or so he thought, someone or something would happen to keep him from getting what he really wanted. By last night, he was barely talking; more or less only grunting and still found no release when Marissa woke up from a scary dream and crawled right between us.
Some sick part of me, one I never knew I had, finds the whole thing hilarious. “He’s tense,” Scott whispers to me as Chamberlain whips us through Orlando traffic toward the venue hosting the fight.
“I know.” I scroll through the pictures on my phone and smile at the selfie I took of Chamberlain, Marissa, and myself the other day at the beach.
“He’s going to kill Rebel.”
“I know,” I repeat and send the picture to Beth and Aunt Jackie, not bothering to look up at him in the front seat while he holds on for dear life as Chamberlain drives. I grab the headrest of the front passenger seat as Chamberlain takes the corner sharper than necessary.
“Will you two quit talking like I’m not here?” He grinds out, slamming on the brakes when someone pulls in front of him.
“I’m not talking about you.” I set the monster phone down. I’m slowly getting used to it; I love the camera on it, but I can leave everything else.
“I’m just stating the facts,” Scott adds, defensively.
“Hmpf.” Chamberlain grunts as he spins us into the underground garage reserved for the competitors and parks. He is out and helping me before Scott can even unbuckle himself. With his bag in one hand and my hand in the other, Chamberlain marches over to the elevator and harshly pushes the button.
“Someone is testy,” I tease.
He growls. “Don’t push your luck, Katie.” His voice is deep, low, and menacing, causing my body to shudder and a delicious ache to start between my legs and drag up my body.
The elevator door opens, and I’m rushed in by Chamberlain, followed by Scott. The next couple of hours go by in a blur. The league meets with Chamberlain, where I am introduced to the guy Fredrick Jackson, as both Chamberlain’s fiancée and manager. While Chamberlain changes, Scott shows me around. The medical team’s location to where our seats will be. I’m overjoyed that I will finally be in Chamberlain’s corner again.
The venue quickly fills up as the time draws closer for the fights to begin. Scott and I don’t officially have seats during the other fights since we are corner man and woman for Chamberlain’s fight, so we hang out back with others as the other fights carry on, and the weight classes grow higher, bigger, and heavier until the heavyweight match and the card match of Chamberlain versus ‘The Rebel’ arrives.
After a brief break and time for Scott and me to find Chamberlain in the locker room shadow boxing and already covered in a sheen of sweat, the music starts up and the emcee announces Chamberlain’s opponent.
The music changes to “Animals” by Maroon 5, Chamberlain’s song. The crowd becomes deafening as Chamberlain is announced, and we walk out to his corner. I stay on the ground with Scott as Chamberlain jumps into the ring and goes to the corner, rallying the crowd.
The crowd does a great job of pumping up Chamberlain as he jumps down and turns to face his opponent. “You’re in his corner, where you’ve always belonged.” Scott leans to the side, still clapping for his friend.
I just smile, ready to watch my man, my beast fight the pale redhead who I have a hard time believing is in the same weight class. He isn’t as built as Chamberlain or as defined. He is big but not as muscular as one would like for a heavyweight boxer. I know and understand that everyone’s body type and musculature are completely different, but something about him really doesn’t strike me as a heavyweight fighter.
Chamberlain walks to him and the referee with his predatory precision and looms a good two inches over his opponent. My body shifts into a state of familiarity as I watch the referee go over the rules same as before every fight. No matter how many times they hear the rules, the ref goes over them again before every fight. Chamberlain throws one last look over his shoulder at me and winks before bumping his gloves with The Rebel’s.
Just like his fight in Denver, the referee backs away, and the bell rings to start the fight. Everything familiar comes flooding back to me and my body coils tightly as fists begin to fly. Rebel dances around the ring, dodging Chamberlain’s swing to make the fight look more theatrical. I can now see why his fights have frustrated him. They are giving him easier guys to fight who don’t challenge him.
Chamberlain starts to slow, feigning that he is wearing down, but I know it is a ruse
. Most people can’t see what I can, or what Scott is watching next to me. He is letting his opponent think he can get away without a real fight. But he’s playing with his prey, toying with him. He is giving him a moment to slow down for him to break out into the full-out speed to get the kill. Chamberlain wants Rebel to think he has the advantage and feel comfortable to come in and start swinging at him.
And that’s just what he does. Cockily, he moves closer to Chamberlain and starts throwing swing after swing at him. I can hear gasps going through the crowd as Chamberlain takes hit after hit, but what they don’t see is Chamberlain is allowing the hits.
Have they ever seen him fight?
The first hit he took was a test to see how hard the punch would be and when he calculated it wasn’t as bad as it could be, he let his opponent play. Get comfortable, if you will. Chamberlain’s hands are up, and he puts on an act like he can’t take the hits from his opponent. But none of the punches are to the head, a poor move on the part of the other fighter.
The bell rings to end round one. Scott and I are in the ring and in Chamberlain’s corner right as he takes his seat. I give him a drink of water while Scott checks his abdomen. His breathing is barely labored when he smiles up at me, adjusting his mouth guard.
“You’re playing with him,” I state, earning a cocky grin and a gleam of excitement from him.
“If wat I do, handa.” His mouth guard hinders his ability to speak. I give him one more drink before the second round starts.
“Don’t break him too much.” I kiss his cheek and jump out of the ring with Scott’s help. Chamberlain gets up and heads back to the center of the ring where Rebel waits for him. There is a cocky air around the other man as he waits for my man.
Chamberlain puts on an act of stumbling his way over and gives a nod of his head when the referee checks on him. “Since when has he started this little show?” I ask Scott, nodding at him.
“He’s always played around with his opponents unless he knows he will really have to put up a fight. It’s kind of funny to watch, especially when they realize he isn’t hurt at all and knocks them the fuck out.” Scott barks a laugh. “It wouldn’t happen if they would just give him the opponents he wants.”