Bad Boy's Honor: An MMA Bad Boy Romance (5 page)

There were no doubts in my mind now. Between his lips and his fingers, my body had surrendered to him completely. My climax would come in seconds, but I wanted him inside me.

My hand reached down between my legs and took hold of his shaft, before pushing my panties to one side and guiding him towards my entrance.  

His cock was tantalizingly thick. My breathing increased, becoming more of an exhausted panting, as I imagined what it would feel like to have him inside me, stretching me wider than any man or toy ever had done before.

Our eyes met again, as Riker pushed forward slowly, letting my body adapt to his size, as my wetness surrounded his member. I gasped as inch-after-inch he entered me until I was completely filled, impaled on his cock and pressed up against the counter unable—and unwilling—to move.

Once completely inside me, he grabbed both my ass cheeks and lifted me up onto the counter. I wrapped my legs around him as he thrust himself deep into me, before pulling out and slamming back inside with the aggression that had made him an infamous fighter.

I reached under his t-shirt and explored his muscular back, clinging onto him and burying my face in his neck while he had his way with me.

I was helpless to do anything. Helpless to resist.

My body shook from the force of his groin slamming into mine, and from the spasms taking over my muscles.  

I moaned gently in his ear as I started moving my hips in time with his thrusts, eking out every little bit of his thick cock while I still could.  

My orgasm took over my body. My nails dug deep into his back and I arched my back away from him, clenching onto his cock as my sex pulsed around his shaft.

My body was still shaking as he thrust hard and groaned deeply as he emptied himself into me.

I kept my arms around him until he withdrew from me and threw the condom in the trash. My legs were so weak I could barely stand, but I managed to grab my pants and slip back into them despite my legs being covered in sweat.

“Thanks,” Riker said casually, as he zipped up his fly. “That was fun.”  

“Yeah, fun,” I replied.

I wasn’t going to let myself feel guilty.
I’m young and single. I can fuck whoever I want.

“See you later,” he said, and left me standing there in the office just how he had found me fifteen minutes ago.

No, you won’t. We won’t see each other ever again, and that’s just fine with me. I don’t need a man like you. You’re the last thing I need right now.

Well that had ended up being a fun evening.    

I always fucked a pretty girl after a fight. Nothing new there. The women were always attractive, with nice firm tits, and slim figures. Exactly like Nora.    

Except none of them were anything like Nora. She was exactly like them and yet completely different. For one thing, I still knew her name the next day. That was a minor miracle in the first place.    

And she wasn’t just pretty she was… captivating. I couldn’t look away from her last night, and I still had a crystal clear image of her on my mind now. Then there was her tight, wet pussy. Shit, that had been one of a fucking kind.    

The night had been a success. I’d even kept the sponsors happy. Today it was back to normality, and that meant working out in the gym to prepare for the next fight. The fun never stopped.

I managed to squeeze in a few short sets of bicep curls before Gayle waved for me to come over to the office. Gayle was a brilliant fight promoter, but she knew fuck all about training. She thought I just hung out in the gym for the hell of it, as if I were bored and didn’t have anything else to do between fights. If Gayle had her way, I’d fight every night until I lost and she could move on to the next sucker who needed promoting.

Not that I ever lost. Not yet. I had twenty fights under my belt, and I hadn’t not come close to losing. The competition was getting tougher every time, and I had a feeling that’s what Gayle wanted to talk about. The next fight. The big one. Fighting for a UFC contract.

I headed towards Duke’s office to meet with him and Gayle. Just before I stepped inside, I saw a woman with her face up against the window of the gym staring inside.    

It was her.

Nora.

I looked closer, but she’d disappeared out of sight. I must be imagining things. Unless she’d tracked me down. That happened occasionally. Women didn’t always realize that I was a one fuck and done kind of guy. They started getting ideas.

Nora didn’t seem like the type though. She’d barely wanted me in the first place. And would it be so bad if she wanted to see me again? God, what I wouldn’t give to get my tongue between her legs.    

But no, that wouldn’t be a good idea. We’d had our fun. There’d be another woman after the next fight, and another after that.    

I heard Gayle call my name impatiently, so I headed over to Duke’s office. The first thing I saw when I walked inside was a large calendar on the wall with big “X” marks every Friday for the next two months.    

The “X” meant they wanted me to fight that night. So much for resting up before the big fight against Elliot Michaels in two months’ time. Gayle could be forgiven for not understanding how much work went into training for a fight, but Duke really should know better.    

Of course, the fact that he was nailing Gayle on a regular basis likely clouded his judgment somewhat. Duke needed someone like Gayle in his life. He was aggressive and hot-headed, but Gayle was every bit his match. She didn’t take any shit from him.    

They were practically equals, and that took the edge off both of them somewhat. There wasn’t much point in shouting and yelling if the other wouldn’t back down, so they’d settled into a pattern of discussing things like regular people. Almost.

Both of them had worked damn hard to get where they were today, and their upbringing hadn’t been much better than mine. They both looked worse for the wear because of it. Gayle looked more in her early fifties than early forties, thanks to decades of smoking taking a toll on her skin, combined with heavy drinking and God only knew what else in her youth. She’d calmed down now, but there was no going back on decades of abusing her body.

Duke’s tattoos had once been stretched tight around bulky muscular arms like mine, but now they were wrinkled around the soft skin of a middle-aged man whose best days were behind him. I hoped to God I didn’t end up like that.

“Morning, Riker,” Duke said cheerfully. Cheerful Duke scared me more than angry Duke. He wanted something. “How are you feeling? Those bruises look to be healing nicely.”

“I’m fine,” I replied grumpily. “The guy barely landed a punch.”

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that, actually,” Gayle said, as she perched on the corner of Duke’s desk. “Next time, try to let the other guy land a few to make it interesting. People like a winner, but if it’s too easy, well, that’s just boring.”

“I won’t have much choice in the next fight,” I said. “Michaels is going to land punches on me whether I let him or not.”

Gayle looked round to Duke who was slumped back in his chair, as they decided who would be the one to break the news to me. Duke lost.

“Your next fight isn’t going to be against Michaels,” Duke said. “We’ve put a schedule in place. You have a fight every Friday night until the big one in two months’ time against Michaels. Each one will test you more and more, but by the time you face Michaels you’ll be ready.”

“No,” I snapped. “By the time I face Michaels I’ll be fucking exhausted. That’s if I haven’t broken any bones in the ten fights you have lined up for me before that. I can’t fight every week. I need time to train in between.”

“The fighting is your training,” Gayle responded.    

“No, fighting is the main event. Training is what I do here in the gym.”

“The gym you use for free and have for the past five years,” Duke butted in, reminding me once again that I owed him a huge debt.

Duke hadn’t just provided me with a place to train all these years. He’d taken me in after I’d been released from jail with just $50 in my pockets and no where to go. He’d even put a roof over my head. Landlords weren’t exactly keen to take in an ex-con with no money.    

“You made a fortune off the last fight,” I reminded Duke. “Surely that can keep you going until the next one?”

“It costs a lot to host the fights,” Duke said without much conviction. The gym was hardly the MGM Grand. The only major expense Duke had was cleaning up the place after it had been packed full of the most violent, rowdy men and women the city had to offer.

“My phone has been ringing nonstop since the fight,” Gayle said. “Everyone wants to take a shot at you after you destroyed that kid the other night. This is going to mean a lot of money for you as well.”    

“I don’t care about the fucking money,” I snarled. “I just want to beat Michaels.”

That got their attention. Money was about the only thing those two did care about. Perhaps that was a little harsh on Duke. He did occasionally show concern about my wellbeing, and we had grown close over the last five years, but I still didn’t doubt his ability to put a big payday before my health.

“You will beat Michaels,” Gayle replied. “But need I remind you that the only reason you have a shot at Michaels is because of me. And Duke,” she added quickly. “I set up that fight, just like I’m setting up these fights over the next few weeks. We need to capitalize on your success, because I most certainly do care about the fucking money.”

“She’s right,” Duke said. “You can’t just pick and choose who you fight. You need to take the big with the small. Cost of doing business.”

“You’ll earn a fortune if I beat Michaels,” I said. “That will more than make up for the lost money over the next few months.”    

“What if you lose?” Gayle asked.

“I won’t. Not if I get to train properly beforehand.”

“I’m…
We’re
not taking the risk. We need to make the most of your new found fame. People are talking about you everywhere. Scouts from the UFC are hovering.”

The UFC. That was where I wanted to end up. That was the end goal of all this. I didn’t want to fight underground all my life. I was already good enough to stand my ground in the UFC events; I just needed a chance to prove that to the scouts. That’s why the fight against Michaels was so important. I had to win that fight, and to do that I needed to be in the best possible shape of my life.

I didn’t want to get to the UFC for the money and fame. I just wanted to fight Tyler Young. Again. And that meant getting into the system. I’d do whatever it took to get my own back on him.

“Admit it,” I said, “you want to milk me for all I’m worth?”

“Riker,” Duke began, “it’s not like that.”

“It fucking well is,” Gayle snapped. “Yes, Riker. We want to get paid on the back of your success. Welcome to the real world.”

“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,” Duke said, trying to reassure me with a smile. Duke wasn’t often the soft one, but around Gayle he appeared to be quite the pussycat sometimes.

“Okay, that’s fine,” I said. “I get that. But there has to be another way for me to earn my keep.”

“Like what?” Duke asked. “Do you have any other talents we don’t know about?”

“Most of the girls round here say you’re a good fuck,” Gayle said. “Do you plan on selling your services?”    

“If I sold those services, no one would be able to afford me. Fighting is only my second greatest ability.”

“In that case, you had better get ready for your next fight,” Gayle said. “It’s in five days’ time against Jude Brennon.”

I gave in. They had me over a fucking barrel. I turned and headed towards the door, but then I saw something in the gym that gave me an idea.

The customers at Duke’s gym weren’t the typical white-collar workers with disposable income. This was a gym for men and women who wanted to bulk up, and didn’t care about luxuries such as cardio equipment, or hot water in the showers.    

The gym had weights and basic boxing equipment, but that was about it. Duke wanted to attract a more upmarket clientèle, but most people took one look inside and walked straight back out again. A bit like Nora had earlier. She wasn’t cut out for a place like this. More’s the pity.