IN THE RING 2
A Dario Caivano Novel
Copyright © 2018 by Perri Forrest
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Without limiting the right under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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Cover Couture
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DEDICATION
Ricky “Rick Lav” Lavender (1.17.79—8.10.06)
God, how I miss you every day. This story was born because of you. If only there was a Rai left behind...
To real R&B music. You get me through the bulk of life and you definitely ignite my creativity. Thank you for being my muse. I love you completely.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To the Most High: Thank you forever for blessing me with my moon, my stars, my son, the Marine. He is the love of my life and I’m proud to be his Mama. Thank you for blessing me with the gift of writing. I’m so alive, and so whole with this outlet. I set out to see if I could write one book and here I am in the double digits now. In addition, I thank you for the Angels assigned to only me. I wish I knew them by name so that I could speak their names in gratitude when I’m saying my daily prayer to you.
OTHER BOOKS BY PERRI FORREST
SERIES
Dario Caivano (2-book series)
In the Ring: A BWWM Love Story
Rush Cambridge (4-book series)
Rapture: A BWWM Alpha Male Romance
Gavin Brooks (2-book series)
Special Delivery
Special Delivery 2
Love’s Awakening (2-book series)
Kennedy’s Awakening
Awakened Desires
Pandora’s Box (Brooklyn Kellogg)
The Color of Lies
What Lies Beneath the Surface
Beautiful Lies
Crooked Lies
STANDALONE NOVELS
The Graffiti Effect (IR Romance / Suspense)
Last Night (IR Suspense)
Family Ties (AA Fiction / Love Story)
Beautiful Vengeance (AA Fiction / Love Story)
Destined (IR Love Story)
Captivated (IR Fiction)
Isa: Gift of the Baloma (IR Fantasy / Paranormal)
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FROM THE AUTHOR
First of all, let me just say, “THANK YOU” to my readers, my supporters. I wouldn’t be here with you. So please know that I appreciate you all.
With that said, this book 2 kicked my arse. I ain’t gonna lie, y’all. I mean, I spoke prematurely about its release not knowing that Dario’s ass was going to go mute on me. I can’t force these characters to talk. They feel like talking one day and then totally shut down the next. Can’t confront them, can’t puts hands on them. So, yeah. I thought me and Dario were better than that, though. But he showed all the way out on me before I could deliver a completed story. So that was why the story was shelved for so long. He made me out to look like some kind of fool, somewhere around 50k words. Who does that? How do you do that to somebody that gave you a whole life? To leave me hanging like that when he knew that there was way more story than that to tell, wasn’t cool.
But get this. You know when he started wanting to talk again? When I introduced Marco Graf on the scene. Dario didn’t like that at all. Marco got to be all sexy, kickin’ it in Vegas! Dancing on stages with women and all that. Then Dario wanted to talk. But then I was like, “Uhh, now you gotta wait ya turn.” Please. But he got the message, though. Because once I finished with Marco, and was back to him, he started singing like a bird—morning, noon and night! I guess you can say that he redeemed himself since now we have a finished product. And before the end of the year!
Just want to let you know that I’m switching it up a little bit in 2019. Gotta evolve. When we remain the same, in the same comfort zone, it prevents growth. Even before I began writing professionally, I was always seeking knowledge. It hasn’t stopped. So, if I’m to grow in my craft, beyond original boundaries set by me, then I must continue to learn and use the tools gained, for upward mobility. Not to worry, I won’t deviate too far. But there will some visible changes.
Stay tuned!
Peace & Blessings,
Perri
INTRODUCTION
Mandarin Oriental, New York City
Shane “Pretty Boy” Michaels jerked his left wrist up to eye level, fist balled. His jaw tightly squeezed, and his brows crunched, he glared at the time on his Clé de Cartier 35 mm Flying Tourbillon. “What the fuck?” he growled, through his annoyance. He was really starting to grow impatient. Not that impatience was a new attribute for him. He hated for anybody to be late when they had an appointment with him. In Shane’s world, every split second of his life meant something. Thus, he felt disrespected, whenever the person privileged enough to occupy his time and space, didn’t see things the same way.
In this particular situation, it was a girl—and she’d better be glad that she was—because due to that glitch of nature, she would be spared every ounce of Shane’s wrath. But leniency in one way didn’t mean that he wouldn’t make her pay in other ways . . .
Shane strolled over to his suite’s window and stared out at the appeal of New York City from the 33rd floor of the Mandarin Oriental. His eyes carefully scanned from one side of the city to the other, as he took in all the beauty that only the Big Apple could offer. The bright lights were everything a poor man would kill for. The view from this high up was something that only the elite had the pleasure of experiencing. A man of a lesser caliber would never know what it even felt like. Shane got off on that. Describing him as arrogant was a grave understatement. Socioeconomic status mattered to him—a lot. He loved being so high up; not just in his career, but in the everyday life that he led. His philosophy was that when you got as high as the clouds, there was no possibility of being knocked down—neither figuratively, nor literally.
His purpose for being in New York was for a meeting with his team. Now, that that meeting was over, Shane was on cloud nine. He walked out of the meeting with two, new large endorsements—Campbell Soup and Nike. There was even talk of him possibly being the athletic spokesperson for Cadillac Escalade. Shane could’ve been on his way back home to Florida, but he had chosen to stay behind an extra night for a bit of fun, before returning home to Jodie, his wife of two years. He loved visiting NYC and always soaked up as much as he could while there. There was always something to do: restaurants, clubs, and anything else a man’s heart desired. Tonight, he didn’t have plans to go out; however, the longer he waited for his guest to make an appearance, he was starting to wish that he had decided to do that instead.
When Shane heard the tapping noise at his door, he slowly walked to the wet bar, picked up his glass of Johnnie Walker, and headed to the other side of the suite. He opened the door to see the tall glass of dirty blonde goodness that he’d ordered off his favorite escort service’s menu.
She batted her thick lashes, eyeing him apologetically before strolling inside. “I’m so sor—”
“Fuck the apologies. Just take your clothes off,” he snapped, walking away from her.
He gulped down his alcohol, set his gl
ass aside, then stripped down to nothing and returned to view the cityscape.
The woman came up behind him and proceeded to rub her body against his. She set about massaging him—starting at his neck, then his shoulders, before slowing her attention around his waist area. When she reached around Shane to wrap her hands around his girth, she triggered a heavy sigh that even Shane didn’t expect. He hadn’t planned to react to her so quickly. His goal was to make her work hard for even the smallest reaction. He failed. The escort trailed his back with kisses, all the while stroking him into a boner so rock hard, that it could crush walnuts.
Her ability to take him from angry and wanting only to punish her . . . to vulnerable and wanting to do Olympian strokes inside of her waterfall, was exactly how she earned her spot there in his hotel room. Getting high-priced hookers was Shane’s thing. He had no reason to entertain an everyday woman, when his schedule didn’t allow for anything serious. He barely had time for the serious relationship he had at home. So, it suited him to have a woman in every city. And not just any woman either. His girls only came from a trusted agency, run by his good friend.
Mid-stroke, the woman released on Shane’s erection. He swiftly shot around to face her, his anger evident. “The fuck you do—”
But Shane halted his words, as she positioned herself on all fours. He swallowed—hard, his member doing a slight bounce, as the blood flow shot through it. “Punish me,” she said, conviction and dare in her soft voice. Shane’s reaction was delayed, causing the woman to turn around and look up at him. She rolled a long tongue across thin lips, then requested, “I made you wait. Punish me.”
Shane quickly snatched open one of the condoms he had nearby. He met her where she was on the floor, then bore down on her and aggressively ripped her tanned cheeks apart. He didn’t know what she had in mind when she made her request, but he had ideas of his own and wasted no time driving into her anus at high speed.
The tightness of her asshole was just how he liked it. He wanted to make sure she felt every bit of what he had in store.
“Noo! Yesss!” came her contradicting shrieks. “Ohhh!”
“You said punish you, didn’t you?” he grunted, as he pumped furiously.
“Yes . . . yesss, Daddy, I did,” she whimpered. “I did! Oooh God!”
With no care of whether it brought pleasure or pain, Shane plowed in and out of the woman, as she screamed against the rhythm of each thrust.
“Oooohh my f-f-fuuucking godddd, Shaaaane! Ohhh myyy goddd!”
The assault on her sphincter was brutal, and judging by how passionately his name fell from her mouth, she took no issue with the way it felt.
“Have you learned your lesson?!” he blared.
“Nooo . . . I haven’t,” she managed. “Ohhh, not . . . yet.”
Shane brought an open palm against her ass cheek and smiled. “Want me to stop?” he asked.
Without awaiting her response, he pulled out, causing her to shriek out in pain. When she fell over onto her back from the strenuous workout, Shane took that time to remove his condom.
“You wanna rest for a little bit?” he asked.
“Yes,” she panted, through labored breaths. “Just . . . for . . . whew! A few minutes,” she expressed. “If you don’t mind.”
“I’ll get you a drink. How’s Johnnie Walker?”
“That’ll do,” she replied from her spot on the plush carpet.
A few seconds later, Shane returned with the bottle and a filled glass. “Here . . .” he said, offering her the drink he’d poured. After she took hers, Shane turned the bottle up and downed several gulps of the liquor. He tossed it back hard, as though it didn’t pack enough of a punch to burn a hole in his chest.
Before she was done with her glass, Shane had relieved her of it.
“Time is money and my dick is hard. Come here,” he instructed.
As soon as she got to him, he picked her up and carried her to a nearby wall where he assaulted her insides. He was relentless in his treasure hunt, fucking her until he was too tired to stand. After his orgasm, Shane lowered the woman to the floor.
“Give me a few minutes. Maybe, take the time to get in some water and soothe that hole. You seem like you’re tightening up. I spent way too much money for that shit.”
Although Shane had told the woman to give him a few minutes, he had clearly underestimated just how spent he was. Somewhere near the crack of dawn, there was a loud, persistent pounding at the door. Not only was someone pounding, but the phone to his room was blaring loudly.
Shane heard neither . . . at first.
“Hold the fuck up!” Shane yelled out, angrily, when the noise disturbance finally jolted him from his stupor. Shit!
Figuring that he could come back and answer the phone, Shane threw the sheets off, and retrieved the terry cloth robe that was thrown over a nearby chair. He was geared to blowup on whoever was dumb enough to wake him this early. However, the moment he opened the door, Shane realized it wouldn’t be as easy as that.
Instantly, he locked eyes with not one, but three, armed officers standing in the hallway.
“Shane Michaels?” the older of the trio asked.
Shane looked from one officer to the others before responding. “Yeah . . . and?”
“You need to come with us. You want to throw on something? If you do, do it quickly.”
“Can I ask what this is about?” Shane asked, determined not to go just because they said so. “Because depending on what it is, I need to call my attorney.”
“You need to get dressed, unless you want to be taken out of here in that fancy, white dress. As far as your attorney, you can call him or her from the station.”
“Miranda rights?” Shane stated, combatively. “Otherwise—”
“Listen!” one of the other officers stated, stepping to Shane, grabbing him around the wrist. “You’re not in the ring, so don’t go trying to be bad-ass. Trust me, you’ll regret it!”
“What the fuck?!” Shane yelled, as he tried fighting his way out of the predicament.
“Resisting arrest?!”
Soon, all three officers were involved in the restraint, and the opportunity for Shane to get dressed, had been missed.
“Out of the respect that I once had for you, we were gonna escort your dumb-ass out through the back, incognito. But now, you went and fucked that up trying to be a tough guy.”
“Yeah,” the third man cosigned. “Now, when everyone sees your ass being taken out of here, and your rape case hits the media—”
“Rape?!” Shane shouted. “Whoa! Wait! What the hell are you talking about?!” he queried, his heart racing in panic.
“Let’s go!”
There was no more response, as Shane was led from his hotel room, down the elevator, and to one of five police cruisers that sat out front.
IN THE RING 2
A BWWM LOVE STORY
A Dario Caivano Novel
Two weeks later . . .
CHAPTER 1
Chanel
Friday, January 29, 2016
KJAM Radio Station, San Francisco, CA
I sat in a posh, fishbowl waiting area that was directly on the other side of thick, slightly tinted plexiglass. The room smelled of a sweet mixture of lavender and berry scents that appeared to be coming from cute, glass, oil diffusers. They sat on the glass tables on either side of the sofa I was sitting on. The walls were adorned with plaques, on top of plaques, of awards the station had won. There were also numerous framed pictures of all the celebrity guests that had come through there. I spotted Will Smith in one picture with the morning DJs. They had a collage of snapshots taken of Rhianna during an interview, looking as stunning as she always does. I fell into some kind of momentary trance and couldn’t stop staring when I saw one of Tupac Shakur with his signature bandanna, tied at the front of his bald head.
After snatching my thoughts from that day, long ago, when the world heard the sad news of Tupac’s passing, I turned to admire
my man, as he sat inside the booth, preparing for his in-studio interview. He had picked Rai and me up this morning, after getting back into town, and as soon as we dropped Rai off at school, we hit the freeway to make our way over to where we were now. The plan was to go eat afterwards, but the more I stared at his fine-ass, the more all my feminine wiles started to drag me straight into lust. Any thoughts of food, no matter how upscale the restaurant, were slowly forced to the back of my mind. I wanted to skip a damn meal and just get to the beef. That man looked good enough to eat.
I was just about to shoot Dario off a dirty, flirty text, to mess with him and make my intentions known, but then Tupac’s voice faded, interrupting my plan. It was a missed opportunity that I would more than make up for later. I was glad that I could not only see from where I was, but I could hear too. I brought two fingers to my lips and then pushed them outward to throw Dario an air kiss. When he caught it mid-air, I was like a young girl with a brand-new crush all over again, my smile extra exaggerated.
“Hey, hey, y’all! It’s ya girl, Shay. You’re listening to 107.7 KJAM. Y’all just finished listening to Ambitionz Az A Ridah, by the late, great Tupac Shakur. We played it in honor of our in-studio guest, retired, heavyweight champion, Dario “D.C.” Caivano! That just happened to be the song he came out to for his final fight last month in Las Vegas, where he defeated Delo Watts. Welcome, welcome, welcome, to our show, D.C.! Wait . . . it is okay that I just call you D.C., right?”
“Oh, yeah, you’re good.”
“Great. Well, it’s so good to have you here. How are you doing this fine morning?”
In the Ring 2 Page 1