by Lily Harlem
“Thirty seconds,” Olivia said, her voice higher than before. “Come on, Darius.”
Mason couldn’t speak. He hardly dared breathe. To have victory so close was beyond exciting. For Darius to go back to the station, to school with such an achievement, would be thrilling and well deserved.
“Time!” the ref called, again spreading his hands wide. “Step back.”
The boys parted, their arms falling to their sides. Both were panting, their skin shiny and hot and their gis askew.
“The ref nodded at the judges then gripped Darius’s forearm. “The winner on points, Darius Bailey.” He grinned. “Well done, young man.”
“Thank you.” Darius grinned at the ref then at Mason and Olivia.
“He did it.” Olivia reached for a kiss from Mason then clapped, joining in with the rest of the crowd. “He really did it.”
“It’s amazing.” Mason’s cheeks were aching from smiling so hard. He was so proud, so happy. Years of hard work had culminated in this moment.
Chapter Eleven
Darius’s teammates rushed to the mat and congratulated him with hugs and handshakes. Tim was beaming and kept rubbing Darius’s hair, which for once didn’t seem to bother him.
“I did it,” Darius said when he eventually reached Mason and Olivia.
“You did.” Olivia hugged him. “We’re so proud of you, you did so well.”
“Congratulations.” Mason held out his hand.
Darius shook it, his eyes shining with emotion.
“Just goes to prove what you can achieve when you put your mind to it,” Mason said. “Anything.”
“You helped me.”
“I just put you on the right road.”
“The right road, huh.”
Mason turned at the sound of Elias’s father. “I beg your pardon?”
“Half of those moves were off the books, and the other half landed with luck.”
Mason could hardly believe his ears. “I don’t think so.”
“Should be my son lifting the trophy.”
“He would be if he’d scored the most points,” Mason said. “And if you’ve got a problem, go discuss it with the judges and the ref.”
The man kind of snarled. It was clear he was pissed off.
“Leo Hunter.” The ref stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Congratulations on second place for Elias. Trophy ceremony tomorrow morning.”
Leo muttered something and stepped away.
The ref nodded at Mason and Olivia. “We’ll see you then, and congratulations to you both. I know how much dedication and commitment parents have to put in for their child to reach this level.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said. “We’re very proud of Darius.”
“So you should be.”
The arena was emptying fast. It had been a long afternoon and the lure of Perth and dinner clearly on everyone’s minds.
“I’ll see you later,” Niall said to Darius.
“Sure.” Darius was still grinning.
“And congratulations, you did brilliantly,” Niall added.
“Thank you.” Darius knocked back some water.
“He really did,” Niall’s mother said. “The whole club is proud of him.”
“A club with a black kid as their star fighter. Huh. What kind of club is that?”
The hairs on the back of Mason’s neck tingled. Heat flooded his veins.
He spun to face Leo Hunter. “Say that again.”
“Say what again?” Leo shrugged.
Elias was standing next to him, draining a water bottle.
“What you just said.” Mason took a step forward. “About my son.”
“Your son.” Leo huffed, his nostrils flaring. “You looked in the mirror lately? He doesn’t exactly have any of your features.”
Mason’s jaw tightened. His teeth clenched so hard he feared they’d break.
“Come on.” Olivia tugged his arm. “Let’s go, he’s not worth it.”
Leo shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. He nodded at Olivia. “He doesn’t have any of her features either while we’re on the subject.”
“Darius is our son,” Mason said. “You need to watch your mouth.”
“Watch my mouth.” Leo laughed, a horrible abrasive sound that didn’t hold humor, just scorn. “You need to watch your wife. How’d you get a pretty little thing like that? You a rich son of a bitch or something?”
Mason took four fast steps forward, until he was face to face with Leo. “Shut your fucking mouth before I make you.”
The next thing he knew, a punch was flying his way. He blocked it, stepped back, and raised his arms, waiting for the next one.
“Dad,” Elias said, his eyes widening.
“Stay out of this, son.” Leo wiped the back of his hand beneath his nose. “This Scot and his African kid have no right to be at an Australian tournament, it’s time to show them that.”
“Okay.” Mason dragged his t-shirt off and slung it to one side. “Show me.” He stepped on the competition mat, making a come-hither action with his hands. “On here. Let’s see what you’ve got.” His blood was boiling. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been so mad.
“You’re making a mistake,” Leo said. A shard of uncertainty flashed in his eyes as he took in Mason’s bricked abs and the huge swirling tattoo on his arm and shoulder.
“I don’t think so.” The arena faded into the distance for Mason. All he saw was this rude, obnoxious, racist man who’d taken a pop at his family—his family who meant the world to him. “Get over here and say that to me again.”
Leo suddenly tore off his t-shirt and kicked away his shoes.
Mason did the same with his shoes.
“Mason,” Olivia said. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. His focus was on Leo.
Leo strode onto the mat. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, just walked up to Mason and threw a throat punch then a side kick.
Mason had to act quick, but he dodged them both. Leo was tall, heavy, too. He’d guess like his son he wouldn’t move fast, but if he made contact it would hurt like hell. And it was clear he was a fighter; like Mason, he’d taught his kid.
“What on earth is going on?” Tim’s voice penetrated Mason’s concentration.
Another fist was flying his way. Mason nipped to the right, got a strike in of his own, to Leo’s kidney.
It felt good to make contact, to hit and to have flesh yield against his knuckles. This guy deserved it.
But no sooner had he struck, a fist raced toward his face. He wasn’t quick enough, and Leo got a dead hit on Mason’s eye.
Mason reeled backward, his neck jerking and his head heavy. Pain shot from his eye socket, over his scalp, down his cheek and jaw. His vision blurred, and nausea swept through him.
Damn it.
“No!” Olivia called. “Stop.”
There was no stopping. Mason was beyond furious now.
“That’s it, asshole,” Leo said. “You know it was a mistake to ask me onto the mat now, huh.”
Mason grunted, dragged in a lungful of air, then struck out with his foot.
Leo whacked the floor with all the grace of a boulder hitting the base of a puddle.
Mason jogged on the spot, waiting for him to get up. He had no intention of getting down low.
“Bastard,” Leo said, lumbering up.
Mason clicked his neck from left to right.
Leo lunged forward.
Mason dodged. It was hard to judge distance with one eye closed, but he managed.
“Mason,” Olivia gasped.
He risked a glance at her. She stood at the side of the mat, looking tiny and scared and with her hands beneath her chin. Darius was at her side, eyes wide, fists clenched.
“It’s okay, hen,” he said, then had to dodge as Leo tried to take his feet from under him. He shot out his fist and managed another satisfying land on Leo’s side.
Leo grunted an
d staggered to the right.
Mason knew damn well, from taking hits like that from Lucas in the past, it had hurt like hell.
But Leo recovered quickly. He blasted out several moves, all of which were close, but only one landed, right on Mason’s ribs. He grunted and slipped out of reach to drag in a breath. “Fuck.”
“Get back here,” Leo said.
Mason wished his brothers were with him. This would be over by now if Lucas or Paul had his back.
He sucked in air, decided it was time to call it a day, and held out his hands. “I don’t want to fight you. You’re a bigot and a prick, let’s just leave it at that.”
“Yeah right.” Leo went for him again.
Mason got lucky and knocked Leo’s feet from under him. As Leo went down, Mason jabbed him hard in the chest, shoving the air from his lungs.
Leo hit the mat and clutched his throat, clearly winded. His eyes bulged, and his mouth made a weird fish movement.
Mason stood over him, watching him gasp but no air moving in or out. His cheeks turned scarlet, and he writhed left to right.
Elias rushed to him, dropping to his knees. “Dad.”
A trickle of air must have made it down Leo’s windpipe. His chest wheezed and huffed.
Olivia was at his side.
“Stay back.” Mason moved her behind him. He didn’t trust this asshole not to strike out even if he was suffocating.
“Mason.” Tim was in front of him, the ref, too.
“Sorry about that,” Mason said. “This man decided to voice some rather unsavory opinions.”
“I heard him,” the ref said with a frown. “And I’ll be discussing it with the judges.”
Mason nodded, pleased the ref had witnessed the conversation.
Damn, my ribs hurt.
“But it’s really not appropriate to—”
“I’m sorry.” Mason held his hands up and pulled his attention from Leo who was gasping through blubbery lips now, his lungs finally reinflating. “I guess I should have kept my cool.”
Olivia slipped her hand into his.
Mason blinked, wishing his right eye would focus. The lid was swelling and the lower section puffing up. His pulse beat through it.
“Yes, you should have,” the ref said.
“Ah, they had the good grace to fight it on the mat, not in the street,” Tim said, his jaw steely.
“I guess.” The ref frowned. “Perhaps it’s time for you to take Darius back to the hotel. Have a bit of cooling off time before tomorrow’s ceremony.”
“Yes, and sorry, sir.” Mason bowed, the way he would in the dojo before leaving.
The ref mimicked the action.
“Come on.” Mason circled his arm around Olivia, stepped off the mat, and scooped up Darius’s bag. “This way, son. Time to go.”
“Dad, but…”
“I’m sorry.” Mason blinked and looked at Darius through his good eye.
“Why?” Darius asked. “Why are you sorry?”
“Because I wish you hadn’t seen me lose my temper.”
“You didn’t,” Olivia said.
“No,” Darius added. “You took on a bully.”
Yeah. I guess I did.
Once back in the hotel room, Mason found himself on edge, yet at the same time needing to sit because his face and his side ached.
Olivia fussed and made him coffee.
Darius ran off to the ice machine.
“Now sit there, on the bed,” Olivia said when Darius returned. “And I’ll make you a compress for your eye.” She tutted.
“I’m sorry,” Mason said, stripping off his top then sitting upright with his back against the headboard.
“I’m not angry for what you did,” she said. “I’m just cross because you got hurt.”
“I’m not really hurt, it’s just a scratch. Isn’t that right, Darius.”
Darius looked doubtful. “Er… I guess.”
“I’ll be right as rain tomorrow. Just a couple of bruises.” He knew that wasn’t true. He’d sport a black eye for a week or so, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his ribs were cracked, which meant they’d ache for a month. He’d had enough cracked ribs in the past to know what it felt like.
“Mmm,” Olivia said, sitting on the bed next to him and holding a flannel bulging with ice. “I hope you’re right.”
Knock. Knock.
“I’ll get it.” Darius ran from the bedroom and through the suite.
When he returned, Niall and his mother were at his side.
“Hi,” Olivia said, standing.
“Is he okay?” Niall’s mother nodded at Mason.
“He will be.”
“That guy deserved it. He’d been saying horrible things about your family all afternoon.” Nial’s mother shook her head.
“He had?” Olivia said.
“Yes, not nice. I’m glad you didn’t hear it all.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.”
“I came to see if Darius, the star of the tournament, would like to come for dinner with us.” She paused. “Though if you have plans—”
“No, no plans,” Olivia said. “Other than icing bruises and ordering room service.”
She nodded. “I thought as much. How does Mexican sound, Darius?”
“I love Mexican.” He grinned. “Is that okay, Mom?”
“Sure, go get changed and wash your hands.”
Ten minutes later, the suite was quiet, and Mason was alone with Olivia. He wished he didn’t feel so damn beaten up. He’d been looking forward to these few days for so long.
I hate the fact that bastard managed to get some punches in.
Mason scowled at the memory, but that hurt his eye.
This big guy, clearly a black belt, had gotten lucky. Mason wasn’t used to being hit. Not these days.
“Aww, poor you, so miserable.” Olivia sat on the bed again and pressed a cold cloth over his eye.
He huffed. “Pissed off more like. I should have just taken him down without hesitating. Without inviting him onto the mat.”
“You did the right thing. You fought with rules.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Well, at least no one else got involved. If you’d knocked him to the ground the moment he’d said those things, he might have landed on Elias.”
“I hope that young man grows up with better values than his father.”
“Hard not to take on his parent’s opinions, don’t you think?”
“Evan didn’t. His father was a bastard, and Evan is one of the nicest, most decent human beings I know.”
“That’s true.” She leaned forward and swept her lips over his. “Let’s put it behind us now.”
“I’d like that.” He cupped her face, her features small in the palm of his hand.
“It’s a shame you won’t be able to live up to your earlier promises,” she said.
He thought back to the awesome blow job she’d given him. “Wanna bet.”
She chuckled and swirled her fingertip over his tattoo. “You need to rest, otherwise you’ll be sore for days.”
I’ll be sore for days anyway.
“I’m fine, looks worse than it is.”
“Why do I think you’re putting on a brave face?” She tipped her head and studied him
“Ha, I don’t think you’d see it if I was.” He knew one side of his face was ballooning.
“True.” She flicked over his nipples, first his right, then his left.
He sat still, enjoying her attention and having a nice sensation when other parts of his anatomy ached.
Including his cock. It was swelling, thoughts of the blow job and sex sending desire swirling to his groin.
She slipped her hand downward, over his abs, his navel, and set it on his belt buckle. “Too sore for—?”
“No. Definitely not.”
Chapter Twelve
Mason watched as his wife undid his pants for the second time that day. This time he was going to fuck, get
deep inside her, and make them both come.
He wished his eye wasn’t throbbing. It was the bone beneath it that hurt the worst. He remembered that now from previous black eyes. The ache was a bitch.
“Lift,” she said.
He helped her shove at his jeans, kicking them down his legs, off his feet and away.
Still sitting upright, he took hold of his cock and stroked it. “You have too many clothes on.”
“You’re right, I do.” She peeled off her t-shirt and tossed it to land on top of his jeans. She stood and popped open the button on her shorts, keeping her attention on him.
He rubbed his cock, root to tip, and licked his lips. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Olivia naked lots of times, he had, but it was always a treat to see her strip.
She allowed the shorts to fall, then stepped out of them. She wore a plain white bra and panties set that suited her tan skin.
“Jesus,” he muttered, his balls tightening. “You’re fucking gorgeous. I don’t tell you that often enough.”
She smiled, crawled onto the bed, and straddled him, setting her hands on his shoulders. “You just did.”
“I should tell you every day.” He admired the shape of her collarbones and the way her bra straps sat daintily on them, then appreciated the rise of her breasts and the soft dip of her cleavage. “You don’t need this on.” He released her bra and slipped it off.
Her nipples were peaked and her breasts perfection.
He tipped forward and kissed first the right, then the left. The action hurt his ribs, and he leaned back again.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He skimmed her waist and took hold of her panties. “Why are these in the way?”
She smiled, wriggled, and quickly removed them. When she straddled him again, her pussy was kissing the tip of his cock.
“Sit on my dick,” he said, circling her waist, his fingers and thumbs practically touching. “Take me into your body and fuck me.”
“Mason,” she said, gripping his shoulders, her eyes flashing with desire.
“Do it.” It was all that could happen next. He needed to feel her pussy around his cock the way he needed to breathe. “Please.”