When I arrived, I could see that it was an empty building with only one other car in the parking lot. A black jeep. There were stairs leading to the basement, and the door at the bottom was propped open. I took a deep breath and readied myself for another encounter with Mister Edwards.
When I slipped inside, there was darkness. A long hallway without power that ended at a door. I followed the sound of music and pushed it open into a room full of wrestling mats. There were two lights, evenly spaced out over the mats to provide visibility. A basement gym.
Cage was on the mats warming up, shirtless and focused. His signature shorts were a second skin covering his well formed posterior. I admired him for a moment before he noticed my presence. One half of the mats were still wet, and the mop bucket was off to the side.
“I guess I should expect to see an angel in church, huh?” he skipped over, dropping immediately into a wrestling position when he got close.
“And the devil himself, dwelling in the basement.” I said. I wasn't ready, and turned away from him. I used my big toe to pry my foot from my shoe without untying it, and then switched feet.
“Pink socks. Really?” he asked.
“Why not? I am a girl after all.” I said, and slipped them off. My nails wore a fresh coat of pink, applied specifically for the occasion. As soon as I was barefoot, he grabbed hold of me, and took me to the ground. “Hey! Cheating! I wasn't ready!” I screamed, and giggled. I figured that whining and being feminine were the tactics most conducive to my defeating him on his own playing field.
“Lucky for you, neither am I.” he said, releasing his pressure. “Let's get you gloved up, it's time for me and you to take our relationship to the next level.” he pulled me to my feet. “You know how to wrap your hands?” he asked.
“Maybe you could show me.” I said, giving him my best sex eyes. Any excuse to be close was what we were both looking for anyway, it's what brought us together in an otherwise abandoned building. The interview being secondary was undeniable, it was hardly on my mind.
“I have one pink wrap. The rest are black.” he said.
“That works. Pink and black are good colors for me, don't ya think?” I asked.
“I would pay to see you wearing nothing but these wraps, if that's what you are asking.”
“You would have to pay. Wouldn't be happenin' otherwise.” being around him brought out my inner goofy. Perhaps because he was always playing around.
“Spread your fingers apart.” he started at my thumb, and skillfully wrapped my entire fist all the way down to the wrist. It was like he had done it a few times himself. “Make a fist. Okay, spread em.” he paid close attention, and made sure I had a perfect wrap. “Fist. How does that feel?” he asked.
“Great.” I said, and held up my other hand. We were close, and I watched his chest rise and fall as he worked. He told me to warm up after he finished the other wrap.
“Pro rules. Three five minute rounds.” he said. There were no clocks, timers, or rings. Just two old mats and a musty basement. I slipped my mouthpiece into place, and took a deep breath. The gloves he gave me were too big, so I went into my bag to retrieve my own. “Whoa! Look at you! Pick those up for cardio kickboxing or what?” Cage gave the impression he had stuffed a fat kid or two into a locker in his day. My gloves were also pink, but fit just right. My gloves were a clue I wished to suppress, but ill fitting equipment is awkward and hard to use.
“You ready or what pretty boy?” I asked, cocking my hips to the side and adding a wink. Cage slipped into his own gloves, and a weird feeling set into my stomach. I was about to spar with a world champion.
“Ding ding!” he said, mimicking the opening bell.
“How are we gonna know when the rounds are over?” I asked, noting the lack of a timer.
“We'll know.” he said, circling back and forth. I put up my hands, and awkwardly stepped forward. I had no clue what to expect from him, and closed my eyes when he stepped in to throw his first combination. “Really?” he asked, stopping himself midway.
“I don't wanna get knocked out.” I said. He shook his head.
“I know what I'm doing. We are just playing. No worries.” he backed off, and began moving again. This time I felt comfortable, knowing the level of work we were getting in. I knew that the element of surprise would only be on my side for so long, and so I wanted to choose my best technique to attack first.
“It’s my first time, okay?” I asked, not the first time those words have been used as a lie, I am sure of it. He grinned, and stepped closer.
A stepping overhand right to a lead uppercut. I threw the punches as hard as I could, both caught nothing but air. He slipped the punches easily, by inches. He raised an eyebrow, and held his hands low, down by his sides. I threw a left hook, and then a straight to the body. He was so tall, and fast, there was no chance of connecting.
“Hold up, hold up.” he said, “Angela! Who are you?” he was laughing, but I made him stay tight with his defense. He wasn't really countering, so I could throw as many punches as I wanted. It was good practice, chasing such an elusive and skilled fighter. I tried a few of my more polished kicks, like the push kick and the turning side kick. Cage loved seeing what I had to offer, and reacted with glee after evading each strike. “Hell yeah! What's up girl?” he feinted and made me feel nervous, but would only attempt light baby strikes, with the impact of a feather.
“Ding ding.” I said, already breathing heavy. It hadn't been five minutes but I needed the break.
“Told you we would know.” he said, and tapped my behind with his glove. “But stand up tall. Take deep breaths. Be in control of your breathing when you train.” he said. I was bending over, hands on my thighs. At least I had the deep breaths part right.
“Yes sensei.” I said. Chasing him around was tiring, I hadn't been to the gym for a lot longer than I would have liked to admit, and I was sucking wind.
“You didn't tell me you trained.” Cage said, stepping closer. He wasn't winded at all. I shrugged.
“Who says I do?” I asked.
“Don't fuck with me. Grappling too? Or just stand up? What all do you train in?” he asked. Secret was out, time to talk.
“I'm a purple belt in jiu jitsu.” I said. “I also trained in boxing for a few years, and now I do my striking with a guy from my hometown who used to kick box. He trains a lot of MMA fighters in our area.” I felt like a dork relaying my paltry fight training resume to a high caliber professional cage fighter.
“You are a purple belt in jiu jitsu? So you can easily choke the shit out of like ninety percent of the human female population. That’s so sexy.” his reaction made me giddy. Hundreds upon hundreds of hours exhausted, and drenched in sweat, drilling armbars and reversals went into that purple belt. I earned the googly eyes he was giving me.
“You don't look bad on your feet.” he said. “A little tense, but you have clean technique.”
“Thanks.” I said.
“You know what's crazy? I'm technically only a blue belt in jiu jitsu.” he said. A blue belt in jiu jitsu is the first belt you get after white. It usually takes a year or more to obtain. Purple comes after blue. Pretty simple in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu(BJJ), white, blue, purple, brown, black.
“Really? So I technically outrank you in bjj?” I asked. It was hilarious, but not all that unexpected. A lot of MMA fighters don't obtain rank in BJJ because they only train without the gi(uniform). I had been training BJJ for almost five years, almost entirely in the uniform, and in a traditional setting.
“Technically.” he said. “Ready for round two?” he asked. I wasn’t, but put on my game face anyway. I changed my approach for reasons of survival. Blind aggression would leave me exhausted, and I chose to adopt a more conservative plan of attack. Cage started to open up a little, shuffling his feet and showing off what he was capable of. His speed was something else, unlike anyone that I had ever sparred with before. With grace and power he leapt into the air, whipping spinning
kicks over my head while maintaining casual conversation. “Gotta watch that 360 roundhouse. It’ll get cha!” he said. His control was on point, but it was still unnerving to see his kicks go whizzing by.
“We always call it a tornado kick.” I said, keeping my hands up high and keeping my eyes firmly locked on his sternum.
“Tornado, tomato.” he said. Lots of techniques have different names. After the ninja showcase, the accuracy of his striking game moved to other regions.
“Ouch!” I squealed at the moment of contact, his foot slapping my ass. He howled with laughter.
“Hot dayum! You do have the booty girl.” he said, only warming up. Next was a fake spinning backfist to an ass slap. When his glove collided against my backside, I swung at his head with a wild haymaker. He was a master of range, with reflexives much too quick for me. My teeth sank down into my mouthpiece, and I tried to block the distractions out from my mind.
Cage was funny, hot, and an ass. Entertaining, and infuriating. He saw the world as his, and thought he could have me simply by wanting me. I hated him, and wanted to be under him at the same time. In that moment, all I wanted was to punch him square in his face.
“Hee yah!” I grunted after a failed hook. He had a way of making it seem effortless at your expense, of showing you the cold hard realities of what he could do to you while mocking you. He could have been in a field picking dandelions, judging by his expression.
“Too slow!” he said, and then tapped his glove against my forehead. Again he moved forward. I threw the most off balanced spinning backfist ever, completely whiffed and would have fell down if he didn’t catch me in his arms. “The kid is fast isn’t he?” he asked, setting me back on my feet before moving away. I shook my head.
“Decent speed.” I said.
“Maybe for a Cheetah.” he was never short on confidence. My breath was heavy again, but I was settling into the pace. I noticed when we squared back up that he was beginning to sweat as well, and beads dripped down over his rippled abs on their descent. “While we are on the subject of speed. How long is it gonna take me to get you into bed?” he asked, leaning forward with his chin out. I took a swing, unable to resist.
“Should I answer in years?” I asked. He glared, unamused, and stuck his chin right back out in front of me. This time, he added the taunt of putting both hands behind his back. I faked a punch, he didn’t react. I flicked a jab, it missed. A cross, the same. As soon as I moved, his head slipped right outside the range of my punches. A sheep trying to kill a lion.
“Ya know, just because you are female doesn’t mean you have to pretend that you don’t want to fuck me.” Cage said, scooting as close as humanly possible, well aware he could slip my attempts at an attack from any range.
“Is that what I am doing?” I asked, having a good laugh at his diagnosis. I wasn’t used to talking while I sparred, and definitely not flirting. Even for Cage, he was getting a little ahead of himself.
Great fighters don’t always have the answers right away, they make adjustments, and figure it out on the fly. My plan had been to catch Cage with at least one punch before he knew that I had martial arts experience, but even the element of surprise hadn’t been enough. His skill and talent in martial arts were simply too much for me.
“Maybe you are right.” I said, adding a giggle. “I have been thinking about your cock non-stop. Ever since I saw you in the shower” I said. My voice was sensual, and I angled my head to the side while allowing my gaze to drift down between his legs.
“Oh yeah?” He smiled, so self assured that it was stupid. I bit down on my bottom lip, and slowly nodded my head.
“So big and hard…” I said, staring at his crotch with a sort of awe. “I want it.”
He stepped closer, convinced I belonged to him. Only feet away, I snapped back into action. I bit down on my mouthpiece, and swung for the fences. An ugly, overhand right, with every ounce of power that I possessed. The punch landed so clean that I hardly felt it connect. Right on the chin. I watched him stumble slightly, caught completely off guard. Blindsided by his own arrogance.
“You little shithead.” the look on his face was priceless. He bent his knees, and dropped into a deep boxing stance. Being hit in the chin amused him.
“I prefer the terms tactical, and adaptive.” I put my hands up high, knowing there would be hell to pay for my little cheap shot. “Don’t kill me!” I shouted, Cage so close I could feel his breath. “Ding ding!” I demanded through laughter, being hoist up onto his shoulder. “Ding ding! The round is over fighter!” I pleaded, but he continued the assault. After taking a lap around the ring with me on his shoulder, in one swooping motion he gently deposited me flat on my back.
“Gonna pay for that one.” he said. I wrapped my legs tight around him, a position in jiu jitsu called the guard. In sex, it would be called missionary. Tornado, tomato. My skills in jiu jitsu were refined enough that we could have a nice roll if he eased off on the strength, but that wasn’t what he had in mind. Instead, he pinned my wrists down by my head, and drove his pelvis against mine. I could feel his bulge pressed against me.
“We still have one more round.” I said, squirming a little to feel him more.
“Or we could skip it and go straight to the fucking.” the grip of his fingers tightened around my wrists when he spoke. There was no going anywhere.
“I might need a free hand for that.” I said, again reverting to what had worked earlier. Batting my eyelashes and lacing my voice with sex. “Please? I promise you won’t regret it.” I begged. He knew exactly the trick I was playing, and still struggled not to fall for it.
“I don’t trust you. I’ll keep hold of your wrists, and let you use your mouth to prove your loyalty.” he said, proud of his solution. My mind flashed to a mental image of him mounted on top and holding me down, shorts around his ankles.
“I don’t initiate. I reciprocate.”
“So what? Sixty nining?”
I could feel that he was hard, and his grips had relaxed. My training kicked in when I sensed the opportunity, and I bucked hard against him and pulled my hands free. He allowed me to scramble up to my feet, looking me up and down. He tried to use his glove to adjust himself but didn’t have the use of his fingers. His erection laid sideways across his thigh, visible through his tight biker shorts.
“Round three?” I asked, pretending not to notice. Our wrestling around was having its affect on me as well, and I craved the contact.
“As many rounds as you can handle babe. I’ve got stamina for days.”
“You always seemed like more of a quick explosion guy in your fights.”
“When they’re laying there twitching, it’s over.” he said.
The final round changed pace. We abandoned punches and kicks entirely, opting to drop the gloves and commit to my area of expertise, grappling. Immediately, he snatched the top position, content to stay in my guard. He sat up straight with good posture, and looked over me with a smile.
“Usually I prefer the stand up arts. With you, I feel like I belong on top.” he said. I was getting used to his constant innuendo, his pressing the issue. It was fine, at least he was honest about what he wanted.
“I cum easier on top.” I said, flushing red. The look on his face was priceless, eager.
“God damn I want it so bad.” he grunted, bringing his face near. His cock was hard and pressed against me. I laced my ankles around his lower back, and pulled him close. Cage’s eyes didn’t speak, they begged and pleaded. Looking into them shut down all of my defensive mechanisms. We leaned in together, our lips touching soft. A baby kiss, and then another, and another. His lips were wet, plump, delicious.
“Mmm.” I hitched, and nibbled at his lower lip.
“Angela.” he groaned, like kissing me might kill him.
“Cage.” I whispered back, my thighs still clamped around his torso. Our mouths met again, now open. The tips of our tongues flicked together, and his fingertips followed my ribcage to
my breast, squeezing. A hollow hunger swept over me, and our grappling session took a backseat to more pressing issues. My nails dragged over the skin on his back,, and he sucked at my neck. “Cage.” I said, trying to fight my feelings of arousal. His suckling at my skin was making me tingle for more. “Cage.”
“I like it when you say my name.” he said, bringing his lips again to mine. We both laughed through a kiss, and settled down into another. His touch was electric, and felt right, but I wasn’t ready to do anything rash. I knew it was ultimately my responsibility to choose if sex happened, and it wouldn’t take place on a wrestling mat in a church basement.
“Hey!” I swatted his hand away when it tried to slither its way inside the front of my waistband. “Be good.” I said.
“Oh I’ll be good. I’ll be the best you ever had.”
“I bet. But I think the round is over.” I smiled, and tried to wiggle free. It was a futile attempt, as Cage didn’t want to let go.
“Is it?” he asked. His smile appeared. He had too many abs for me to count, and they were all finely detailed. The pull I was feeling toward him was visceral, not something I had the strength to resist. I grabbed his head, and pulled his mouth to mine. We picked up where we left off, with heavy petting, and deep kissing. My hands were as curious as his, and I gripped his ass to pull him closer.
“Now it is.” I said, after breaking our kiss. My body was trembling, and it was already difficult to walk away from him.
“Angela.” he was persistent, and took another kiss. I knew that I had to stop, right then. Another few seconds and I would lose control.
“That’s it.” I said, and pushed him away. When I stood up, I felt wobbly. Drunk off of a kiss. “I think I won that last round.” My smile felt dumb, and wouldn’t go away.
“We can do another.” he said. I shook my head. There was no way. My athletic shorts were already a little wet, and if things went any further my trip back to my car might turn into a walk of shame.
Scrapper: MMA Badboy Romance Page 6