by Danika Kane
Moaning, Caldre fell into a haze, the rapture creating ripples as a series of tremors shimmered across his skin.
He eased back and licked the blood from his lips, the taste unexpected. He was aware of his actions and what he’d succumbed to. Yet he wanted more, refusing to stop. As he crawled up further he lowered his head, dragging his blood-stained tongue across Caldre’s mouth. “I want you.”
Caldre breathed out, the sound full of a rasp, and slid his hands up to grip Sakima’s shoulders. “Fuck me. Please, fuck me.”
The words were more chilling than he could have imagined. As a growl bubbled from his lips, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, wetting them with a combination of blood and saliva. Pressing them to Caldre’s asshole, he captured the man’s mouth as he thrust his fingers deep inside Caldre’s dark hole.
Caldre moaned into the kiss, his body jerking up from the mat.
Sakima could feel Caldre’s heart beating rapidly, pushing against his chest walls as he continued to plunge in and out. He wasn’t going to be able to hold back his needs for long. Merely seconds later he removed his fingers, breaking the kiss as he shifted and slipped the tip of his dick to Caldre’s puckered hole.
“Oh!”
“Caldre, look at me.”
Very slowly Caldre opened his eyes. Sakima wanted the man to see what was about to happen. For this would change the course of the fighter’s life forever.
“Fuck me.”
As a low and slow moan escaped his lips, he thrust the entire length of his cock into Caldre’s ass, the force jerking Caldre up, a strangled hiss coming from his mouth. “Yes!”
Tossing his head back and forth, he gripped both of Sakima’s arms as his legs began to shake violently.
“Yes!” Grunting, he began driving in and out of Caldre’s tight asshole, every part of his body quaking from the intensity of their passion. Everything about the moment was extraordinary and he was full of enough blood his body was warm, every cell electrocuted by the food. Harder and faster he plunged into the man’s asshole, raging emotions filling the back of his mind. Visions of the past raced through his mind, the rolling Technicolor a reminder of the man he once was. The one he’d lost. Suddenly, he was filled with sadness.
“Come inside of me.”
The sound of Caldre’s voice kept him from falling into total despair and in the next several seconds he could swear he saw Zamir smiling. Then the brutality of the kill. “No!”
Chapter 4
“Jesus Christ. What the hell did you do last night buddy? You look like hell,” Draper mumbled as they walked out of the training room.
“Too much wine with dinner I think,” Caldre moaned as he rubbed his temples. He had no idea what the hell to think. The entire night was a blur, at least after the incredible fight he’d had with Sakima. He shook his head, fighting the ugly cobwebs remaining. His entire body was aching like a son of a bitch. He would attribute the entire situation to the fight, except for the nausea and the fact he had no idea how he’d gotten home. But his truck had been waiting for him in the normal spot, with no dings or scratches.
“Drinking alone?”
“No, dinner with a friend.” As soon as he said the words he could see a grin crossing Draper’s face. A friend or a lover? Right now, he had no freaking idea. His entire world was in a haze, thoughts and fears remaining just at the forefront of his mind, but he was unable to grab any sense of reality. What did remain were the haunting feelings from the paintings. Dear God, he remembered the paintings. The intensity of the man’s pain would never leave him and was so much as his own, all consuming.
Draper laughed. “Good man. About time you got out there dating again.”
“Just a friend.” As if he was going to say anything. They moved toward the kitchen and the shirt was scratching the whip marks on his back, making him grimace as they walked. He had to concentrate on something else. Yeah, like the fact the fragrance of sex and cum had been all over his clothes this morning. His pants looked liked they’d been through a shredder.
“Sure. I hear ya. What do you think of the reports of arson?”
“Not completely proven yet.”
“Close enough there’s an investigation going on. I heard some big wig’s buying up the whole block.” Draper grabbed a cup and the coffee pot, holding it out to Caldre. “Want a cup?”
As soon as he started to say ‘yes’ his stomach lurched. “Had enough this morning. Yeah, well if there is arson there could be all kinds of reasons why.”
“Oh, come on, the investigators think there was an accelerant used.”
“Where did you hear that?” Caldre challenged. Now he was light headed. Maybe he was coming down with the flu.
“If you’d been here on time this morning, you would have heard the Captain at the start of the meeting. What’s with you? You’re so preoccupied. Maybe the late night between the sheets is catching up to you.”
The instant Draper said the words a flash of something raced through the back of his mind. The blip was gone before snagging, but he had the distinct feeling something sexual did indeed happen between he and Sakima. The words about them becoming lovers were telling enough and the scent was…
“Earth to Caldre. You’re worrying me here. Seriously.” Draper took a sip of his coffee.
“I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.” He thought about the call he’d left for Coach Reynolds. The man would be none too pleased Caldre was moving on, especially with the upcoming district fights, but he knew in his gut Sakima was going to take him to the championship. He was prepared to take the Coach’s wrath at any cost for a win.
“Okay. You are a big talker on top of everything else. The other thing you missed was the Captain saying the arson investigators will probably want to talk to us one day this week. You might want to tell them about the guy you saw in the Ferrari. Might be nothing but you know I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“I hear you.” His mind raced to the conversation he’d had with Sakima about the new sports facility. Was there any possibility the man was into arson as a way of keeping expenses down? He refused to believe in the possibility.
“Anyway, the guys are going out again at the end of the week so you are coming. You can bring that lady friend you’re hiding if you want but…” Giving Caldre a look, he wrinkled his nose and dumped the coffee just as the firehouse phone rang on the wall. “Good choice not drinking this shit.”
Caldre couldn’t stop thinking about Sakima, beginning with dinner and the odd man named Tor to the fight, and the brutality of the whip used. Goddamn the entire situation had been incredible.
“What can I do to help you?” After answering the phone, Draper slowly turned his head, his eyes locking on Caldre. “Yep, he’s here. Who may I say is calling?”
A phone call here? Unusual.
“Certainly, Coach Reynolds.” Handing off the phone, Draper gave him an odd look.
“Thanks, Lieutenant Parker.” Great. This was perfect timing.
“I received your message. Do you mean to tell me you’re really going to go with Sakima Mato?” Coach Reynolds huffed into the phone.
“I know my decision is sudden and I apologize, but I think it’s the best for my next phase.” Draper was hovering way too closely.
“Caldre, I understand you want more, but you’re simply not ready for what that brute has to offer you. You don’t understand about his reputation at all. The man is a monster, inside and out. There are so many rumors flying around about his questionable business tactics as well as the savagery he uses with his fighters, it’s unbelievable.”
Caldre rubbed his eyes and turned around, lowering his voice. “I know he’s harsh in his tactics but—”
“Son, a man died during his training. Plus, there’s enough scuttlebutt about his business practices to make a whole lot of us leery of what his motives are in the sport. I caution you. Hell, what am I saying? I’m warning you flat out.”
“What?”
�
�You had no idea, did you?” Coach Reynolds said quietly. “I take it by your silence you didn’t. This kid was beaten to death and the circumstances were investigated by the cops, although miraculously the asshole wasn’t accused of anything. But I can tell you that kid was terrified of Mato. The man got off but I tell you what, I know Mato killed that boy. I know it in my gut. The kid was basically disemboweled. Bloodless. How the hell do you account for that?”
Caldre had no idea what to say. Beaten to death? That sounded ridiculous but the whipping from the night before was certainly something to consider. “I’ll be careful.”
“I hope you’re hearing me and you take your training with him cautiously. He’s in this for the money, not the sport. He’s trying to lock up every bit of business. If you want to really find out the truth about what Mr. Mato is made of, talk to his former business partner, William Forester. He knows everything and, I dare say, all the ugly truth.”
“I’ll keep that in mind as well.” He could tell Draper was gleaning every word. His heart was racing and the nausea was getting worse.
“I wish you well, son. I know we haven’t been close and that’s my fault. You’ve got real talent and I’d hate for it to be exploited by an asshole. Remember you can always come back. Okay?”
“Thank you, Coach Reynolds. I appreciate the offer.” Caldre walked around Draper and hung up the phone, his mind reeling with the information. He made a mental note to ask Sakima about all of it the next time they were together.
“Coach Reynolds?”
“Just a guy I know.”
Draper snorted and folded his arms. “I may not be the hippest guy in town, but we’re talking about Coach David Reynolds, right?”
Caldre could feel heat rising in his face. “Yep. Nice guy.”
“Uh-huh. You lying sack of shit.”
“What?”
“I know you too well, and I know when you’re hiding something and you know it. David Reynolds, is that, what is it called, mixed martial arts guy? Some new fighting competition?” A knowing look on his face, he moved closer to Caldre.
Caldre shrugged. While Draper was the closest friend he’d ever had and the man knew about his aggression levels, he honestly didn’t think telling the Captain and the rest of the firefighters he was competing would garner him anything but a suspension.
“No wonder you have bruises all over your body, including your neck this morning. You’re one of those fighters. You’re actually fighting in a competition. Right?”
Opening his mouth, Caldre groaned. “No, I…” Slapping his hand over his neck, he winced as a pain trickled into his jaw. The hard kicks had indeed given him bruises all over.
“Well, well. What an interesting find. This hasn’t been about any girl, has it? You’ve been cage fighting.”
“It’s not cage fighting. The sport utilizes kickboxing with several forms of martial arts,” Caldre said quietly. “And I’m just interested, nothing more.”
“Uh-huh. Tell me another lie,” Draper sniffed and patted Caldre on the back. “I’ll keep your secret for now, buddy. For now. Whatever you’re into is fine. Don’t know why it’s such a big secret. Hell, your whole life is a secret. What you got hiding in that townhouse of yours, eh? Kinky shit?” Draper’s laugh filled the small space.
“Nothing like that.”
“I bet very much like that.”
Shivering, he watched as Draper whistled, gave him a heated look and walked out of the kitchen. Backing against the counter he groaned as the edge bit into his back. He rubbed his eyes as flashes of moments from the night before trickled into his mind. Nothing was concrete and he hated not knowing. This behavior just wasn’t like him. If Caldre was nothing else, he was a man of total control. Yeah. Maybe not any longer. Without a doubt, he was going to have to find the lost hours with Sakima. Something told him the knowledge was damn important. His hands were shaking and he needed cold water splashed on his face, or a kick in his ass. He walked into the bathroom and suddenly an overwhelming need hit him hard.
When he closed the stall door he fumbled with his belt and pants, shoving them down. His eyes were drawn to his thigh. There was a black and blue bruise already turning yellow on top of his thigh, but the bluish color inside his leg drew his attention. Even in the dim lighting he could tell there was a mark there, nestled just beneath his ball sac. Caldre lifted his cock and maneuvered so he could see just enough of the bruising. He would swear on his life he was seeing a bite mark. “What the hell is going on?”
By Thursday, Caldre was feeling much better and the training sessions had gone extremely well. He’d had two more attacks of nausea, including weakness, and he was beginning to think he was fighting off the flu. The entire night with Sakima was still a blur so he’d decided to concentrate on the training. The strangest part is that he hadn’t experienced a single nightmare since the evening with Sakima. He wasn’t certain whether to attribute the happening to sheer exhaustion. Work had been brutal then adding in the intensive fighting sessions and he was a whooped pup. Exhaustion was his friend, giving him peace of mind if nothing else.
Both he and Sakima were surprised how many moves Caldre had been able to learn in such a short period of time. Since the night of the shared dinner, Sakima hadn’t seemed interested in him personally in the least and he was beginning to think the intimate moments had simply been more of a fantasy. Perhaps that was good given he’d spent time with the arson investigators and they’d had two horrific fires to contend with, albeit neither in the warehouse district. A fight weekend was drawing near and Sakima was interested in showing him off as a new stable boy.
He felt stronger and more potent, his penchant for violence controlled. Sakima continued to use the whip and for some reason the brutal training methods were working for him. Several questions remained, nagging in his mind, regarding the fires as well as what his previous coach had told him. Enough so, he’d begun his own investigations, finding little to connect Sakima to the fires, only to the buildings. But what he couldn’t find was any information on the dead fighter. There was no mention in the news and no investigation that he could find anywhere. Maybe Coach Reynolds had been exaggerating. Maybe the incident had been swept under the rug. There were too many maybe’s and few complete answers.
Tonight, there was an exhibition match, one designed to highlight the sport. The event was located at the coliseum in the heart of the city, one that used to be the pride and joy of Cleveland. Now the venue was run down, rarely used and would soon be destroyed to make way for more condominium complexes infiltrating the city. The odd thing was the fight amongst several sporting and concert promoters to save the expansive space, fix it up instead of razing it. He’d found this out during his rather primitive investigation. Two factions were fighting and it seemed those backing Sakima Mato were winning. The exhibition was nothing more than to show just how badly a new facility was needed.
What he feared was the press. Reporters from every station and newspaper would be at the games in full force, along with the biggest names in Mixed Martial Arts. This was a moment in the limelight and one he feared. Still, he refused to let Sakima or his team down. Team. There didn’t seem to be any team concept in the sport. The mentality was kill or be killed, fight until your opponent can’t stand. The new moves would serve the fighter in him well. His career? That might be another aspect.
Walking into the arena, he had a sense of awe for the first time in his life. Never had he anticipated being a part of such an organization. The challenges of becoming the best fighter he could be was much more than he’d ever anticipated. Now, there was talk, at least with Sakima, of becoming a champion. Caldre had to admit. He was excited as hell about the prospect.
As he wandered through the gated portion, being checked and rechecked for his credentials, he had a quiet moment of reverence. This was what he wanted to do, more than fighting fires or even saving lives. He had to wonder whether the desired brutality was the real man, or what some might think
was the monster fighting to the surface to take over his usual gentle demeanor. Few knew the real man inside, the one with horrid nightmares, fantasies about death.
After changing into his fighting clothes, he reflected on the paintings at Sakima’s house and could swear the subjects were about the man buried deeply inside his psyche. Troubled, he knew he had to push this away or maybe use the angst for the fights. He chuckled and watched as a group of fighters entered the locker room. Stash was close behind. He could see the man sizing him up and he shook his head, wondering if there’d be a day he’d be considered good enough to fight him.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the new boy,” Stash chortled as he slammed a door open from a locker, the clang of metal against metal floating into the air.
“I heard he’s pretty good, Stash.”
Caldre stole a glance and grabbed the tape for his hands. He wasn’t going to get into a battle of bigger balls here. Nodding to the other fighter, he’d seen the gruff looking man around. The rough-hewn fighter was another opponent who was on the fast track to stardom. Jazz Simons was a dancer, a player and brutal in his own right.
“Good? He’s the new ‘boy’ for Sakima. That’s why he’s here,” Stash grumbled as he jerked off his shirt, pitching the material into the locker. He darted a glance in Caldre’s direction and licked his lips.
“My, my, you are a pretty boy. Lookin’ good enough to eat if ya ask me,” Jazz remarked.
“I heard he takes it up the ass,” Stash sniped.
“Maybe we should give him a taste of what he craves.”
Stash laughed as he shook his head. “I do like blond meat but prefer them with a pussy and not a man pussy. Sorry. Go fuck somewhere else. We only want real men here.”
While Caldre knew what the man’s intent was, he was weary of the connotations that he’d heard now more than once. The sad aspect was he still had no idea whether he and Sakima were lovers, or merely something else. He refused to take the bait.