FIGHT NIGHT #1: Three Story MMA Romance Bundle

by Scarlet MMA, Simone

  FIGHT NIGHT #1

  A FIGHT NIGHT Bundle

  By Simone Scarlet

  Copyright © 2015 Simone Scarlet

  The right of Simone Scarlet to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which in it published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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  More FIGHT NIGHT Fiction

  Fight Night Threesome

  Laid Out

  British Bulldog

  Bruiser

  Tag Team

  Baller

  Showdown

  Contents:

  Fight Night Threesome: Sweethearts Cassie and Rich had come to the MMA championship match for their 10th Anniversary - where Cassie intended to surprise her husband with a chance to meet legendary MMA super-heavyweight Magnus Bjorn in a private, behind-closed-doors 'meet-and-greet'. But on that particular night, the 6'9" "Norwegian Oak" wasn't in any mood for shaking hands and making small-talk. An overly-easy victory in the octagon had left him with his appetites unsatisfied - and when Magnus' trainer introduces him to Cassie and Rich, this fearsome fighter has an idea that maybe this unsuspecting couple would be able to 'scratch his itch'. So instead of signing posters and posing for photographs, Magnus pours this cute young couple some vodka, and begins a relentless campaign to seduce them both. And before they know it, Cassie and Rich are naked, on their knees, and eager to satisfy this gigantic MMA legend any way they can.

  Laid Out: Silas Batres is a Spanish super-heavyweight with an attitude problem - and when he's the victim of a TKO in the first round, it looks like this MMA fighter's career is going nowhere, fast. But beautiful bitchy Nicola Hedberg holds the keys to Silas' future. She's the gorgeous, high-maintence wife of the Spanish fighter's MMA sponsor; and only with her blessing will Silas endure to fight another day. So in the privacy of a luxury hotel suite, this mismatched couple begin a cage match all of their own: Silas' thick, throbbing manhood against Nicola's eager, insatiable desires. To the victor go the spoils - and, in the meantime, both Silas and Nicola will vie for sexual submission in the bedroom.

  British Bulldog: When hip-hop honey Toni Rome meets her boyfriend's clean-cut MMA rival, she had no idea how heavy-hitting their attraction would be. But apparently, it's mutual - because James MacDonald, an upper-class MMA fighter from Scotland, is instantly attracted to Toni. In his eyes, she's a good girl with a bad past, and he finds her way too intoxicating for words. But Toni's boyfriend, the trash-talking bad-boy Hannibal Alexander, won't take a Brit stealing his woman lying down. Soon he and James find themselves on an inexorable path towards a heavy-hitting confrontation - with gorgeous Toni trapped right in the middle.

  Round 1

  Fight Night Threesome

  A FIGHT NIGHT Romance

  By Simone Scarlet

  Chapter One

  Magnus Bjorn wasn’t satisfied.

  When he’d entered the octagon that night, he’d intended to break his opponent. Silas Batres was a loud-mouthed, gutter-talking punk and Magnus had been looking forward to getting his hand hands on the smaller fighter and folding him like human origami.

  He’d anticipated watching Batres desperately tap out as he lay beneath him, all while Magnus bent his body in the cruel and unusual ways that nature had never intended. That mental image alone burned with almost erotic intensity inside Magnus’ head.

  But, instead, Batres had made a rookie mistake. Within the first minute of the first round, he’d tried to take a swing at Magnus and left his whole left side open – and BLAM! That’s when Magnus had taken the smaller man clean off his feet with a punch that had the force of a freight train behind it.

  Batres had gone down like a sack of potatoes. TKO – total knock out – in 41 seconds.

  The crowd had gone wild, of course – it had made for a spectacular fight. Throw in the fact that Batres was largely considered a loud-mouthed ass – the ‘heel’ of the match – and it almost seemed like poetic justice had been served.

  But for Magnus, he’d had his victory robbed from him. Where was the sport in a TKO? He should have been making Batres beg for mercy instead.

  The post-match formalities were over quickly. The referee tried to raise Magnus’ hand over his head, but that wasn’t easy given that the Norwegian fighter towered nine inches over the ref. The ref – once a noted MMA fighter in his own right – looked like a child standing next to the 6’9”, 400lb super-heavy-weight strongman.

  Photos were snapped. Somebody shoved a camera in Magnus’ face, and he couldn’t even remember what he said to the crowds watching on TV. All he really remembered was being led out of the ring, down the stairs, and hearing that Batres was awake, and suffering from concussion.

  The enormous fighter had snorted when he’d heard that: Good.

  But that burning dissatisfaction remained. As Magnus was led back to his dingy, cinderblock dressing room, he felt almost antsy about it. He’d got the MMA equivalent of blue balls – and Batres had been the cage-match equivalent of a one-pump chump.

  His trainer, Rex, had welcomed Magnus back into the dressing room and passed the enormous fighter an ice-cold 24-ounce bottle of Heineken and a towel.

  “You alright, champ?” Rex asked, reaching up to thump Magnus on one of his enormous shoulders. “That was one hell of a fight. One for the record books, I think.”

  Magnus shrugged. Sipping his beer, he started peeling off his gloves and wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “I don’t like it when it’s too easy,” the Norwegian explained, in his heavy accent. “When are they going to find me somebody who can put up a real fight?”

  “Ha!” Rex laughed nervously, collecting the sweaty gloves and ropes of tape Magnus handed him. “It ain’t easy finding people willing to fight you, Magnus. Especially not the way you keep knocking ‘em down.”

  Magnus snorted again. He drained the bottle of beer, and reached out his hand silently for another. Rex popped the top and handed it to him nervously.

  “So we’ll go out and get something to eat in a little while,” his trainer grinned. “I told the chop house around the corner to prepare steaks and beer for five people.”

  Magnus looked at Rex, and did some calculations in his head.

  “Who are the other three people?”

  “There are no other three people,” Rex explained. Magnus snorted. It was like his trainer knew his appetite better than he even did himself.

  Satisfied by Magnus’ nod, Rex suggested: “Why don’t you grab a shower, and then I’ve got one meet-and-greet you’ve got to sit through before we can go.”

  The towering Norwegian rolled his eyes.

  A ‘meet-and-greet.’ Another stupid publicity hoop the championship was making him jump though. Some kid with cancer, or a pre-teen who’d won a competition off the back of a cereal box, would show up in his dr
essing room and Magnus would have to sign merchandise, pose for photos and act all friendly and nice for fifteen minutes.

  Magnus drained his second beer. He wasn’t exactly the ‘friendly’ type.

  “Wash up. I’ll bring ‘em in about fifteen minutes – okay?”

  Tossing the empty beer into the trash can in the corner, Magnus snatched another 24-oz Heineken and popped the top with his teeth. He drained almost half of it in two long, slow swallows.

  “Sure,” the big Norwegian nodded. “And grab me some more beer when you come.”

  And then, totally without self-consciousness, the towering Norwegian fighter stripped off his t-shirt and shorts ready for his shower. He acted like Rex wasn’t even in the room.

  But he was, and as Magnus stripped Rex backed nervously towards the door.

  It wasn’t Magnus’ enormous shoulders, or bear-like chest that intimidated him. It was the fact that the sweaty super-heavyweight fighter had a cock and balls swinging between his meaty thighs that a thoroughbred would have been proud of.

  “Ahem,” Rex scrabbled desperately for the door, as Magnus drained his third beer, and idly scratched his heavy, goose-egg sized balls. “I-I’ll be back. I’ll knock before I come in,” he added, “to make sure you’re decent.”

  Magnus rolled his eyes as he heard this, and watched Rex leave his dressing room with a sneer.

  Not only did he have to sign shit, and smile for the camera. Those assholes who did the publicity for this championship insisted he wear pants during it all, as well.

  Chapter Two

  If you’d asked Cassie where she’d wanted to spend her 10-year Wedding Anniversary, a grubby bar in a sports stadium in the city would NOT have been her first answer.

  But the look on her husband’s face made it all worthwhile. Rich was so excited, he could hardly sit still.

  “I can’t fucking believe it, Cassie,” her husband grinned at the pretty blonde, practically squirming on his stool like 6-year-old. “I’m going to actually meet him.”

  Cassie grinned, and leaned over to kiss him.

  “Yes, you are,” she purred, pressing her lips against his cheek. “Happy anniversary, darling!”

  It had taken weeks of planning to get this to happen, but Cassie had known Rich would love it. Great seats for the MMA championship and an exclusive meet-and-greet with Rich’s favorite fighter afterwards.

  Magnus Bjorn – the Norwegian Oak, they called him.

  Cassie was just pleased he’d won. Surely shaking hands and signing posters must be drag if you’d just had your ass handed to you by another fighter!

  But the moment she’d laid eyes on Magnus Bjorn earlier that evening – swaggering into the octagon like a giant – she’d known he couldn’t lose.

  He was 400lbs of Norwegian muscle – a championship strongman, and two years running as ‘Norway’s Strongest Man.’ The guy he was fighting – a mean-looking 270lb boxer called Batres – was like a child standing next to Magnus – and Cassie hadn’t been remotely surprised when Magnus had swatted him aside like he was a fly.

  Rich’s 27-year-old wife had never been remotely into MMA – that had always been her husband’s thing. But she’d had to admit that she’d been wowed by her first live fight.

  What a spectacle – so much more vicious and real than all that fake WWE wrestling shit, and infinitely more interesting than boxing.

  And then, of course, there’d been Magnus himself.

  Jesus, what a man!

  One of the reasons Cassie had always been cool with watching the MMA fights with Rich was because the fight circuit offered up a lot of lovely eye-candy for a girl to enjoy. She wasn’t really into watching guys beat the shit out of each other – but Cassie didn’t exactly complain about seeing shirtless dudes wrestling in a ring together.

  But this Magnus guy? He was something else.

  He looked like Hagrid from Harry Potter, except on steroids. Nearly seven feet tall and, Cassie swore, just as wide at the shoulders, he really did look like a giant out of a Norwegian fairytale book.

  Cassie had seen MMA fighters with biceps thicker than her thighs before – but Magnus had arms so big, they were practically wider than her waist! And with his hairy chest and massive, but neatly trimmed beard, he looked like the stuff of legend. A Viking God, swaggering about amidst mere mortals.

  Cassie had to admit that watching this towering Norwegian brute made her panties damp.

  “Shit, this is an incredible surprise, honey,” Rich grinned, kissing Cassie again, and breaking her from her less-than-pure thoughts about Magnus. “I just wish I’d have done something as special for you!”

  Cassie laughed: “You bought me that necklace. That was sweet.” As she squeezed her husband’s hand across the table, Cassie added: “Besides, seeing you so excited is kind of like a present for me, too.”

  Rich grinned, and it made his wife’s heart sing proudly.

  Just then, a discreet cough from behind them caught the couple’s attention. Turning in their seats, Cassie and Rich saw Rex – Magnus’ trainer – standing patiently behind her shoulder.

  “I think Mr. Bjorn will be ready to see you now,” he nodded.

  “Oh, my God,” Rich grinned, scooping up the posters and merchandize he’d brought for Magnus to sign. “It’s really happening.”

  Rex looked at Rich’s huge pile of MMA gear with concern.

  “Yes,” he said dryly, leading the husband and wife towards a doorway marked Authorized Personnel Only. “I just ask that you be a little patient with Mr. Bjorn. As you can understand, he’s had a busy day – and he might be a little tired and subdued as a result.”

  “Oh, we’ll be on our best behavior,” Rich promised. “I’m just excited at the chance to meet him.”

  And, with that, Rex led them to a nondescript door in a darkened corridor, with a printed sheet on it saying “Magnus Bjorn, Dressing Room.”

  Rex nodded.

  “You decent in there, Magnus?”

  Rich reached over and squeezed Cassie’s hand, looking at his wife excitedly.

  “I’m hardly decent,” came the booming reply, and then the door to the dressing room swung open.

  Cassie nearly swooned. There, in a white bath robe, towering above them, was the enormous MMA fighter.

  “But why don’t you come in anyway?”

  Chapter Three

  Magnus had an appetite.

  It wasn’t for beer – four 24-ounce bottles of Heineken had taken the edge off that. It wasn’t for food, either. He was planning on wolfing down 64-ounces of ribeye when Rex came to take him to dinner.

  No, he had an appetite for something more intangible than that: Domination.

  A couple of minutes earlier, when he’d been soaping the sweat and blood off himself in the shower, Magnus had almost been overcome by the urge to jerk off. If he’d done so, he’d have done it thinking about Silas Batres. Nothing sexual, of course – just the idea of pinning the smaller, cocky asshole to the mat, and bending him until he screamed. That image alone was enough to make Magnus’ huge cock swell.

  But Rex’s knock on the door had disturbed the looming Norwegian before he could do that – and the moment Magnus had staggered out of the shower, thrown on a robe and opened the door to his dressing room, another type of appetite had overwhelmed him instead.

  “Good evening,” the towering Norwegian boomed, looking down at the husband and wife eagerly awaiting their chance to meet him.

  It was the wife – a pretty, slip of a blonde – that had whetted another appetite inside of him.

  Now subtlety wasn’t exactly Magnus’ strong suit. The fact that he could lift a car, or break a man’s jaw with the flick of his finger, had relieved him of much of the requirement to be ‘subtle.’

  But the moment he saw this petite little creature (face it, all women were petite compared to him) he decided that there was another submission he could fight for tonight – and this time, a lucky TKO wouldn’t spoil his enjoyment of
it.

  “Magnus, this is Mr. and Mrs. Thompson,” Rex introduced the couple. “They bought your meet-and-greet in that online auction.”

  “The one for cancer?”

  “The other one.”

  “The other one for cancer?”

  “That’s right.”

  Magnus grinned, and gazed down on the husband and wife like a wolf eying up two particularly tasty-looking lambs.

  “Why don’t you come in,” the fighter opened the door wide. “Rex, why don’t you go and check on our car for us?”

  Rex nodded. He’d sat through so many meet-and-greets that he was happy to skip this one. Nevertheless, he did get a momentary twang of curiosity when he realized that Magnus was actively trying to get rid of him.

  “Now, you be nice, Magnus,” his trainer warned him, as he closed the door on the looming fighter and the young husband and wife. “They paid to meet you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Magnus grinned. “I’ll be sure to give them their money’s worth.”

  Chapter Four

  Oh, my God, thought Cassie. He’s even bigger up close!

  The moment the door to Magnus’ dressing room had swung open, Cassie had been forced to crane her neck back to look at him. The enormous, bearded Norwegian towered over her and Rich – so tall half his face was hidden behind the top of the doorframe.

  “Why don’t you come in,” he boomed, in his thick Norwegian accent.

  Rich gave Cassie and excited grin, and led her inside the dressing room.

  It was hardly something out of Hollywood. Bare cinderblock walls were matched with robust, steel and plastic furniture. A shower cubicle stood in the corner, and from the pools of water and towels littered on the floor, it was clear Magnus had just finished showering.

  That explained why he stood there in nothing but a robe – a huge terry-cloth dressing gown that would reach the ankle on most people, but barely made it to Magnus’ knee.