MMA Fighter's Obsession

by Flora Ferrari

  A warm note touches me in my chest, not sex-related, when I watch my queen spinning like that.

  “You look like you’re catching autumn leaves falling from a tree above you.”

  I clamp down on my lips, smirking through the ridiculousness of my comment.

  “I’ve never said anything like that before,” I admit.

  She glows as she dances over, placing her hands on my chest. It’s soaked in wonderfully warm sweat, and nerves, and I feel it seeping against my skin. I savor the feel of her juices. I want all of them, the juices of her sex and her mouth and her body, every fucking inch of her.

  Mine, mine.

  It pumps through me like a heartbeat.

  “Did you just look embarrassed, Liam?”

  I give her a playful shove with one hand, looping my arm around her hip and squeezing her ass with the other. That ass is so curvy, so full, a handful I’ll never get tired of squeezing and pressing and palming. I would feel so disappointed if I grabbed my queen and she was bone-thin, with nothing to hold onto.

  I want to thank every chef who’s ever made Lola a meal for giving me this gift, her curvaceous undulations driving me to starving need.

  “I’ve never been much of a wordsmith,” I admit with a snarl.

  She giggles sweetly. I can read the nerves in her, too, as if the monumental significance of this moment is as obvious to her as it is to me.

  But our desire is stronger, tougher, fiercer.

  “Let me look at you,” I say, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her away slightly.

  She bites her bottom lip, tilting her head up at me, my teasing little queen.

  “Like what you see?” she asks, and then bites her lip again, a pendulum of sassiness and nervousness.

  “Like?” I laugh low. “There aren’t enough words to describe how I feel when I look at you. But I need to see all of you.”

  I dart forward like I’m closing the distance in the cage and then grab her flowing dress in handfuls. I tug on it, up, up, and then she lifts her arms to help me. I pull it right over her head and then toss it to the edge of the room, and then collapse stonily against her, every part of me rock-hard, every fucking part.

  I smooth my hands over her gorgeous hips, savoring the way her skin goose pimples and her hips glide out slightly, child-bearing in the extreme.

  She gasps as I drag my palms up her back to her bra, her face buried in my chest, breathing warmly through the fabric to my skin.

  I snap the bra loose and toss it to the floor, and then stand back and watch as her beautiful breasts spill free.

  My cock surges as I stare at them, so ripe and perfect looking, her areoles round and so pale they almost blend in with the skin of her breasts, her nipples hardening slightly, excitement making them into begging-to-be-sucked tips.

  She looks at me, her cheeks flaming red.

  “Do you…” She licks her lips. “Do you like them?”

  “Like them?” I snarl, moving forward again and palming them both, squeezing, pressing, making love to just her breasts.

  I push them together and watch how they move, how they contort under my hands, just for me.

  “I feel like I was put on this earth just to taste them, Lola. Like them. That doesn’t do them justice. Not even fucking close.”

  I lean down and bring my lips to her left nipple, palming her right breast as her moans quiver at her pouty lips. Her whole body is quaking and vibrating as she sinks into the moment, as she lets my desire morph with hers and become something truly unstoppable.

  I move my tongue around her nipple, teasing more hardness out of her, imagining that if I suck enough I’ll be able to taste the torrents of milk that will gush from her when she has a whole army of my babies to take care of.

  I break off, looking up at her. My breath comes fast and hot and as feral as a fucking caveman’s.

  “I bet you can’t wait until I can taste your milk, eh?”

  Chandelier light dances in her eyes. “How did you know?”

  I smirk. “Because I want the same thing. We’re connected. You’re mine.”

  “And you’re mine,” she gasps.

  “I bet you’re soaked for me, aren’t you?” I growl, letting one hand fall and sliding it from her knee up her thigh, up and up, feeling her round, perfect flesh. “I need to taste your juices. I want to drink them all when you come in my mouth. I need to gulp it down. Will you do that for me, Lola? Will you let me devour that perfect pussy?”

  Her mouth hangs open and a flush spreads from her face to her neck. A blue vein runs through her left breast, a beautiful, large vein that makes her look so womanly and alive. She’s not some billboard wannabe beauty, some Photoshopped lie.

  She’s mine, all mine. All woman. I’m the luckiest goddamn man on the planet.

  “Yes,” she whimpers, lust winning out over nerves.

  “Tell me,” I whisper savagely, my hand near her panties now.

  I can feel the wetness trickling down her leg like syrup, warm and thick, making her thighs sticky where it’s dried in places.

  My cock can’t take much more. The base throbs and my balls are like ice-blue stones, my seed roaring at me to plunge deeply into her fleshy paradise and pump and pump until I’ve shot a thousand babies into her greedy womb.

  But I want to taste her first, need to taste her first.

  “Taste me, Liam,” she whimpers. “Please taste my … my pussy.”

  I smirk like the feral fighter I am and then guide her to the couch, placing her on her back and then grabbing the edge of her pale blue panties.

  She wiggles as I slide them down, grinding her sex against the fabric, her mouth making a cute-as-fuck O shape.

  I pull them right down to her ankles, and then toss them to the floor with her dress and her bra.

  And then I just stare at her perfect pink hole, glistening with her wetness in the lowlight, at her lips clinging onto more of her tempting juices.

  “Fucking hell,” I growl, feeling another swell in my manhood, my thick shaft pulsating.

  She bites her lip, gazing at me over the landscape of her body.

  I collapse to my knees and grab her hips, pulling her down the couch and angling her so that I can bring my face close to her pussy. Her scent wafts over me, tangy and inviting, a just-Lola scent of pure pussy and sex.

  I move my face so close that I could lick her at any moment, but for a moment I just hold myself there, breathing heavily onto her.

  She wiggles and lets out a moaning sigh.

  “You like when I breathe on you like this,” I snarl.

  “Y-yes,” she mumbles. “It’s so fricking hot.”

  “You should see my view,” I smirk. “I’ve got the best seat in the house.”

  I breathe in the scent of her for a moment longer, but then I can’t take it anymore.

  I bring my face close and open my mouth, drinking in her pussy, my upper lip near her clit and my lower covering her tangy hole. I move my tongue forward and stroke up and down her lips, gasping, and gulping.

  Her juices seep onto my tongue and down my throat, the best drink in the universe, about a million steps above any other beverage.

  She moans loudly as she twitches her hips against me, grinding up and down, her voice making quivering exhalations as her pleasure captivates her.

  I lick faster, attacking her clit with a flickering of my tongue.

  It’s inflamed and engorged and hot and needy, pulsing against the tip of my tongue, begging for more attention, for all the attention I can give it.

  I feel her hole pulse as another helping of her syrup shoots over my tongue. Her voice is catching now, half-breaths that make it sound like she’s struggling to breathe.

  I grip onto her hips more firmly, pulling her close to me, feeling like a starving savage who’s finally hunted down his meal.

  I move my tongue down to her hole and circle it, lapping up her wetness, and then move back to her clit and whirl around it with my
tongue in primal patterns.

  Her moans rise like declarations in the air and her pussy surges against me, a whole tsunami of juices flowing into my mouth.

  I open my mouth wider and press against her, not even licking her now, just devouring her pussy. I grind my lips against hers and rub at her needy clit with my mouth, over and over as her cries get more confident in the air.

  “I’m c-c-coming,” she moans.

  I hold tight to those hips, those hips that are oh-so-perfect for bearing my children, and pull her even closer. I wish I could melt into her pussy and get right to her womb, paint it with lavish tongue strokes the same way I’m treating her pussy.

  She vibrates and thrums and contorts on the couch, and then finally lies back, heaving in exhausted breaths as I rise up and move my hand down to my pants.

  My cock is like a sword of fire in my pants, just roaring at me to get inside of her, now, hunger infusing me. I need this woman.

  But then she sits up, her breasts moving in a hypnotizing arc.

  “Liam,” she says, and then gulps as though anxiety has suddenly filled her throat. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  My world comes thundering to a halt for a moment, and I stare at her.

  “What’s wrong?” I growl after a moment.

  Perhaps that’s a stupid question.

  Perhaps she’s thinking of all the times I’ve visited her childhood home as nothing more than her dad’s oldest, best friend, and perhaps she’s going to be the grownup here, my eighteen year old queen.

  Perhaps she’s going to be the one to stop this.

  But I can’t.

  My body is too primed for her.

  Maybe if she was clothed, I might be able to. But probably not even then.

  There’s too much sexiness coating every part of her.

  “I’m not what you think I am,” she mutters, jumping up and grabbing her dress and pulling it over her in one quick movement, as though she needs to cover her nakedness.

  All I want to do is tear it away again, especially now that I can see her hard nipples poking through the fabric.

  “You’re my queen,” I tell her. “You’re mine. I’ve claimed you forever. Your womb is made for my seed. I know you can feel it. So tell me, Lola. What’s wrong?”

  She blinks and for a moment terror strikes me as I think there are tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m a virgin, Liam.”

  A pause hangs between us like a noose.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lola

  I feel my dress clinging to my sweaty body, my bare sex still soaking wet with the aftershocks of what we just did. My heartbeat thunders and Liam just stares at me, his jaws going tight, his temples pulsating as though he’s on the verge of an explosion.

  He probably expected that I had some experience by the way I moaned and twitched for him, but that was just my instinct-driven lust doing things to my body I’ve never done before, making me half-wild when really I’m about as tame as them come.

  Except for him, a voice whispers.

  “That was actually the first orgasm I’ve ever had,” I murmur, working my tongue around my dry lips. The need to fill the silence is overwhelming as he just gazes at me. “So I guess this is it now, huh?”

  I try to tell myself that it’s for the best as the silence lengthens between us, as the air fills with all the unsaid things.

  I imagine the words cycling like a stream of hate through his mind.

  Disappointment.

  Not the queen I wanted.

  Inexperienced little girl.

  I urge myself to accept the idea that this is for the best, that nothing truly magnificent could ever happen between us because Liam and my dad have been friends for as long as I can remember.

  Would Dad freak?

  Would Mom freak?

  Would it cause a puncture in the fabric of our family’s unity?

  Ridiculousness stabs at me as I lean down for my panties and my bra, as though I’m sitting above myself watching the scene, my body feeling basically naked because my sweat is causing my dress to cling tightly to my body.

  I stand up with my underwear a tight ball in my fist, my fingernails jabbing through the fabric and into my palm.

  At least this will be fuel for my story, I try to assure myself. I can use this experience to fan the flames of my creativity when I return to my laptop, mining the interaction for the ups and downs that make it so devastating, that make my world feel like it’s crashing down.

  “I clearly got carried away,” I mutter, as Liam’s eyes sear into me like brown fire.

  “No,” he grunts when I make to walk by him.

  “What?” I whisper, pausing for a moment, the heat radiating from him in thick, powerful waves. “No what, Mr. Caveman? Care to say more than one word, because right now you’re freaking me out, big time.”

  He smirks and glides his body into my path. He moves so swiftly and quietly for a man of his immense size, his fighter’s instinct thrumming in his every gesture, his every twitching muscle honed for power and speed.

  And all for me.

  I try to quiet the voice, but there’s something dancing in his eyes, and it doesn’t look like disappointment.

  “Do you really think that makes me want you less?” He grabs my hips and pulls me toward him, staring down at me with his jaws tight and his eyes searing. “I always knew I’d recognize my woman the second I saw her, Lola. I just fucking knew it. And when I walked into that interview, it was like…Hell, I’m no wordsmith, but it was like the universe just finally made sense. And to know that you’re mine, really all mine, that just makes it all that much sweeter.”

  “Really?” I whisper, the idea that this is a trick, a game, mocking me in my traitor’s mind.

  “Really,” he growls, leaning down so that our noses are touching. “I want to be with you every step of the way, Lola. Forever. I want to see you skyrocket as a bestselling author. I’ve already read those short stories you posted online. You’ve got talent. I want to see that become a publishing empire.”

  I gasp, everything tingling, the world seeming to spin around and around me. “You read my stories?”

  “Of course,” he smirks. “I needed to be closer to you. I've never been one for thrillers. But you just whisked me away with your writing. The point is, I want you, all of you. And that means your precious virginity. That’s all for me. Just think, we’re going to conceive our first child the first time you have sex.”

  A thrill riots through me as he brings his lips closer, a brief searing touch that reignites something primordial inside of me.

  I feel my womb scream, but a good scream, one of victory.

  “I want to wait,” he growls. “I want to light candles and give you a long, warm bath before I take you, Lola. But I can’t. I can’t stop myself. I need you. I need you now.”

  Suddenly, confidence infuses me. It’s like I’m floating on a cloud of sassy forwardness as I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him, opening my mouth and finding his tongue.

  I drive my tongue into his mouth and our lips clash, battling as buzzing pleasure dances hotly around my mouth. I grip onto his shoulders, so firm I’m shocked when my fingernails don’t snap under the immense force.

  He slides his hands up my legs and grabs my ass cheeks, pressing them together, squeezing them and massaging them. I stick my ass out, grinding against him, so whisked away in the moment I don’t even think to be nervous.

  I can’t.

  Not with my man.

  Oh, God, this is real. It’s real and it’s the best fricking thing that ever happened to me.

  He wraps his arms around me and lifts me off my feet, like I weigh nothing, and the feeling is like floating on a cloud of pure warmth. I never dreamed I’d be with a man who could handled me like this, like I’m one of those cheerleaders who I was invisible to in high school, their jock boyfriends hefting them up in the corridor with ease.

  But now it’s me, this is my moment, and my man
is handling me with lustful movements.

  Our kiss deepens as he carries me through the suite, down a corridor and then to a carved oak door at the end of it, the handle a golden-carved palm tree, patterns inlaid into the wood.

  He kicks it open with his foot and then carries me to the bed.

  It’s a four-poster bed, so big I’m sure it could fit ten people. The lights are low and they fire the room as red as our desire, and the floor to ceiling windows are covered in silk curtains, a purple color like a bruised setting sun.

  Liam lays me down on the bed and stands over me for a moment, his chest heaving, up and down like a force of nature.

  Like he’s about to explode.

  “Do you have any idea how irresistible you look right now?” he grunts, a subtle smirk playing at his lips. “I’ve tasted your perfect pussy with my tongue. But now it’s time for my cock to taste how hot and wet and welcoming your body is.”

  “Welcoming?” I giggle, even pulling up my dress a little, finding courage in the way Liam’s eyes can’t shift from me.

  “That’s right,” he growls, tearing his shirt off with one quick movement. His sweat-flecked body is tight with muscle, every inch of it heavy, steaming. He tears off his pants and underwear, stepping out of them. “Our bodies know each other. We’re meant for each other.”

  I let my gaze drift over his immense form, his manhood at least eleven inches of pure sinful release. It’s rock hard and points almost directly up, he’s so hard, despite how much it must weigh. A spot of precome glistens at the end, an invitation, and suddenly the thought ricochets into my mind that he might be too big for me.

  Every part of him is rock solid, not just his manhood. His muscles press against his skin like he could erupt any moment.

  “Can you …” I clear my throat. “Can you lead the way, Liam?”

  He smirks like an alpha wolf claiming his mate.

  “So polite,” he grunts. “And it’d be my pleasure.”

  He lies on top of me, parting my legs with a movement of his knee, our eyes fixated on each other the whole time. I grab onto his bare back, feeling the muscles pulled taut across him, like thick leather canvas that nothing could ever pierce or break.