Long Shot: An MMA Stepbrother Romance (22 page)

His gaze meets mine for an instant before he kneels in front of me and yanks down my jeans and casts them onto the bed that seems far too classy for either of us.

“If you don’t want me to talk, sweetheart, then I need
something
for my mouth to do.” He buries his mouth against the lace of my panties, his tongue pressing against the fabric, seeking out my clit and circling it, pushing against it. I feel like I might fall, but he grabs my ass with both hands and holds me up, burying his face between my legs. He gently sucks on the sensitive button, pulling flesh and lace into his mouth at once. My panties are soaked with evidence of my desire, and arousal courses through every cell in my body, its epicenter focused on Josh’s tongue as it searches my pussy.

“Oh God,” I moan, drunk on my own lust, bringing my fingers to Josh’s thick, chestnut hair. Josh pulls hard on my panties, ripping the lace away from my body, and I gasp. He chuckles and moves his lips right back to my pussy, moaning and licking up and down my slit like he’s starving for me, like drinking me in will be his salvation. Stroking me steadily with his tongue, he brings me to the edge, and I’m moaning so loud that I’m sure that anyone walking down the street would be able to hear me as I start to come. He brings his mouth back to my clit and sucks it in hard, then slips two fingers inside of me and presses against the ridged texture inside, tapping against it and sending exhilarating waves of pleasure through my center. I meet my release, crying out, the sensation fluttering through me, slow and delicate and sweeter than all the times before.
 

Josh kisses the tops of my thighs and lets his mouth travel up the naked expanse of my body. He stands and takes me into his arms, lowering his lips to mine before I can recover completely from my climax. My body is still pulsing, my thoughts still blurry and thick, aftershocks still pouring through me. I move one hand over the ink he’s spent so much of his fighting money on, and for the first time, I see it as beautiful, as part of him—and not as a waste. For the first time, I
get
it. It’s the display of his scars on the outside; it’s how he’s come to terms with who he is, how he understands and relates to the world.

“That was… God, that was…” I can’t get the words out.
 

“Just the beginning.” He opens his mouth to say more, but instead he smiles and lifts me with ease. I wrap my legs around his waist, and I don’t protest when he walks me over to the bed and throws me down. Closing my eyes, I listen as he drops his shorts to the floor. There’s the distinct sound of a foil packet ripping, and my body responds with the same starving need that I felt in Josh’s lips. I
need
him inside of me, and I wrap my legs around him again and pull him down on top of me. He laughs and rolls me over on top of him, lifting me up and placing the head of his cock against my entrance. As I open my eyes, I grab onto his waist and slide onto his cock effortlessly. He sits up and brings me in close, kissing me as I begin to ride him. His tongue glances against mine, and I start to ride him hard, my sex swelling and throbbing with each movement. Inside of me, he’s hard as a rock and throbbing, and his breath is coming faster and faster. Just when I think he’s going to explode inside of me, he rolls me over again and thrusts into me hard. Grabbing my hips, he drives himself into me again and again, kissing me on my forehead, my cheeks, and down my neck.

“Josh,” I whisper, and I’m babbling now, saying his name over and over.

“Natalie,” he moans gently. I wrap my legs around him and he slows down so that each thrust makes contact with my clit. Shivers expand over my body, and I’m pushed to the brink again. With my body nearly elevated to another plane of existence, I barely hear what he says next. “I love you, Nat. Tell me you’re mine. You’re all mine. This body, every piece of you.” His voice is a deep whisper, but my mind wakes up enough to process each word. “Say it,” he says. “Tell me you’re mine.”
 

“I’m yours,” I groan. “I am.” I arch my back against him, and he pushes into me hard, driving my orgasm home, the pleasure spilling through me, unstoppable, irrepressible.
 

“I’m coming, baby,” he moans. “You’re making me come with that sweet, perfect pussy.” My head is still reeling with all of it—his words, the heights of pleasure I never thought of reaching. He swells inside of me and his muscles tense against my body, and finally, he lets go, shuddering and falling against me, kissing my lips and biting down on the lower one for just a moment.
 

We lay there, tangled together for minutes, and I’m guessing he’s trying not to speak—even though he had a difficult time with that during our most recent sexual encounter. The words swirl in my head in a mist of confusion—words I’ve never said to anyone but my mother back when she was alive. I’ve
thought
those same words about Josh, maybe a thousand times over the ten or more years I’ve known him. But I never thought they’d be real. I worry at my lip, pulling it through my teeth and burying my face against Josh’s neck. His scent—fresh and clean and masculine—fills my consciousness, and I feel comfort lying here. Despite all the shit that lies in our path, we’re here, and for once, everything makes sense.
 

“Josh?”
 

“What? I thought we weren’t supposed to talk.”
 

“I said
you
weren’t supposed to, but you didn’t listen.”

“Couldn’t help it,” he quips. “There was this hot, sexy woman—and I was trying to get into her pants—”

“I don’t think you had too much of a problem with that.”

“Naw.” He controls his country accent just like I do, but it slips out sometimes, the warm drawl creeping in when I least expect it.
 

“I feel the same way you do. I think. But it’s hard right now—”

“You don’t need to explain, Nat. There’s plenty of world and time ahead of us. For all that. At least I hope there is, Natty.”
 

I nod against him, and we lie there for a long time, drifting in and out of sleep.
 

For the next three days, we only left the cottage to grab take-out from the pizzeria across the street—and gelato once from the place down the road. I begged off of two shifts, and Josh told Ash that he had caught a stomach virus and couldn’t come into the gym until the following Monday.
 

No fights
, he said.
Nothing like that right now, Nat.
We existed only in our own selfish, hazy bubble. For those few days, there was nothing and no one but us. It was what we always wanted.
 

What we didn’t realize—what we refused to realize—was that there was a world rolling on without us, and there were people that were bound to come looking for Josh. For all of his planning, for all the thoughtfulness he’d developed in the time we’d been apart, he was still prone to distraction.
 

This time, the distraction was me. And I hadn’t yet realized how serious his words about the gym had been.
 

“Shouldn’t you be training by now?” Natalie sits on the leather sofa that faces the picture window. For the past three evenings, we’ve sat here together, watching the sun set over the Roanoke Sound. It’s been a peaceful few days—deceptively peaceful. I ignore her question and look out the window to the street and the sound beyond it. It’s the view we’ve grown up with, but being here, alone, with her, has brought the place back into perspective. I feel like I’m seeing this little town for the first time.

“Hey, hot shot, did you hear me? It’s not like I want you to go back to the gym, but a few days ago, it was all this and that about getting back to Frank and making him think you were on his side.”
 

“He’s been quiet.”

“Is that good?” I hear Nat shift on the leather sofa again. There’s apprehension in her voice, and I can’t say I blame her. Ash knows we’re here, but as far as Frank is concerned, I’ve gone into hiding again—and I’m taking money away from his gym by refusing to fight. We’ve gone back and forth to feed Bee each day, but other than that, we’ve been ghosts, hiding away. If I’m being honest, I could go back in the cage any time. With each day my body is healing more, and with each day, I’m getting closer to the culmination of a plan I put in place years ago.
 

“It’s good—for now. Nat, honestly, I’d bash that guy’s dumb fucking face in. He’s stepped on me too many times.”

“Don’t do that—”

“I’m not, Natty. Because that’s the weak thing to do. I’m not about that anymore. I’ve used my fists over my brain for a long time.” I pause and clench my fists together, imagining the crunch of Frank’s nose against the base of my palm. It’s a comforting thought, and he’d be easy to dominate physically. But there’s something far greater that I’m after: Frank’s destruction, a complete dismantling of his business. It’s something I haven’t shared with anyone, and I’ve only hinted at it around Natalie. But the semi-pro fight coming up is the perfect place to bring him down. Frank more than likely already knows that I’m headed for the damn fight. Even though it’s a little earlier than I wanted him to find out, I have to roll ahead just like I meant to before.
 

“But doesn’t Frank want you back at the gym? That’s the whole reason why we’re here, so you can have a save home base for going to practice, right?” I look back at her. Her blond hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, and a tightness comes to my chest. That’s what she thinks: She thinks she’s been keeping me safe by staying here with me. In reality, Frank probably knows exactly where I am and is devising some way to fuck with me so that he can maintain dominance over his chief fighter, just like he always has. The reason I came here, the reason I’m with Natalie—it’s to
be
with Natalie. These few days are pieces of stolen time, and it’s what I need to keep me going, keep me strong for the fight that’s ahead. The last part of my plan hinges on winning the damn pro fight, on attracting the attention of bigger promoters
and
on my ability to call Frank out in front of everyone. All that shit involves a lot of ifs—and I wouldn’t blame Natalie for a second if she went running as soon as all of it started to go down.
 

“Yeah, l know Frank wants me back at the gym. But I told him I was having complications with my shoulder. Frank’s already pissed at me, Nat. He thinks I’m up to something, but he doesn’t know what.” The phone in my pocket starts to buzz, as if it’s calling on my thoughts, making them real.
 

“Josh, I feel like there’s still a lot you’re not telling me.” Her amber eyes rest on me, waiting for me to explain. I’ve tried, but it just falls flat, sounds stupid when I repeat it all in my head. If I spelled everything out, it’d sound just like my idea to go into fighting in the first place.
 

“I’ve told you, baby.” I pick up the phone and glance at it before hitting the ‘reject call’ button. It’s Frank, for the tenth time this morning. He wants me to pick up some fight, according to the message he left me this morning. I roll my eyes. His ploy this time isn’t going to work. I have enough saved to get through the month, and I’ve got the gym, even if it is in Ash’s name right now. I can’t do what Frank wants—at least not yet. A message flashes across the screen before I put the phone down.
 

He knows where your girl lives.
The message is from Katy, and it’s just been sent. A rush of anger makes its way through my body, and I feel my muscles tensing up. There’s a phantom bit of pain from my left shoulder, but I know I could fight if I needed to.
And he’s planning on finding the both of you. He’s pissed as hell you’re not back at the gym and not booking fights under his name.
 

I won’t need to fuck him up
, I think. I can figure this out rationally. But by the time the thought is complete, I’m putting Nat’s car keys in my pocket and checking each window to see if there’s anyone watching it. I know my next move will be to head out of the damn door and drive to Natalie’s, but that might be exactly what Frank wants.
 

“Dumb fucking fighter,” I mutter. “Should have known better.” I start pacing, and Natalie scoots off the sofa and walks toward me. She catches my arms and pulls me into her. The only thing she’s wearing is a long t-shirt—no bra, no panties. My cock stirs when she stands up on her tip toes and puts her lips to mine. I kiss her back roughly and cup her breast, flicking my thumb over one hard nipple. She moans into my mouth, her tongue seeking out mine. But before I entertain the thought of bending her over and fucking her until she can’t move, I need to think about what’s more important: taking care of her, making sure she stays safe, even if it means exposing her to the baser parts of my personality. I step back and look at her. This beauty is a thing that needs protecting.
 

Maybe, as far off course as I’ve veered, I haven’t actually lost sight of what’s important. It was Natalie all along. It always was. I kiss her on the forehead and bring my hands to her shoulders. It’s a shame that holding a woman’s tits isn’t seen as a fond, casual gesture—I’d rather hold onto those soft mounds than take her by the shoulders and look her in the eye. But something tells me that wouldn’t be in the best taste.