Shifting Gears: The Complete Series (Sports Bad Boy Romance) (54 page)

“I thought you were going to put your
clothes in the dryer.”

“In a minute…or two…” I told him just
before my lips reached his cock.

“Oh fuck!” I felt the muscles in his
thighs get hard as I held on to them and engulfed the head of his cock. I ran
my tongue all around the rim of it and then I sucked on it…just the head. I
could tell by the sounds he was making that he liked it and that made me happy.
After a second I began to take the shaft in a little at a time, teasing him
still with my tongue as I went along until he couldn’t stand it any longer and
he finally grabbed two handfuls of my hair and held my head in place while he
thrust his hips up off the bed. As he bucked his hips, I sucked and ran my
tongue up and down the length of his cock, feeling the bulging veins along the
sides and delighting in the fact that I had done this to him…twice in one day.

I pushed myself up on my knees so that I
was straddling his legs and he was trapped. Then I opened my mouth as wide as I
could and I helped myself to all of him, sucking as hard as I could once I felt
him hit the back of my throat. His fingers were still tugging at my hair and I
could even feel them digging into my scalp. I pulled my head up and lunged down
harder and then I did it again…and again until he was crying out, “Oh shit! Oh
fuck! Oh, baby! I’m coming, Jessie, fuck, baby!” He tried to pull me off him
but I felt him grow and swell and I didn’t want to ruin it for him. I’d never
done this before, but I’d never been so determined to make a man feel good in
my life. I nursed him through it, not taking my lips off until he was
completely empty. When he finally relaxed I lifted my head up and looked at
him. His blue eyes were wide and he had an expression on his face that I
couldn’t quite read. I didn’t need to, though, because a few seconds later he
pulled me back up on top of him and kissed me until no words were necessary.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

Paul got in the shower while I put my
clothes in the dryer and then I got in when he got out. The easy, playful
feeling that had been between us just before and just after we slept together
was gone and had been replaced with a somewhat awkward silence. I guess that’s
the problem with sleeping with someone you hardly know, you’re left with so
many questions. When my clothes were dry I put them on and he said,

“My nephew will be home in about an hour.
Do you want me to drive you home, or back to the gym?”

I didn’t really want to be seen back at
the gym looking like I just took a shower. I loved my friends, but the second
they saw me getting out of Paul’s truck in the condition I was in, the rumors
would begin to fly. “My apartment is fine. I’ll call one of the girls for a
ride to work tomorrow. We’re probably just going to be doing clean-up all day
anyways.”

Once we were in the truck I told him how
to get to my apartment and then we drove in silence again. I sat wondering what
that day meant…if anything, and where we were going to go from there…if
anywhere. I also wished that I knew what he was thinking. Was he sorry that
we’d had sex? Did he regret having sex with me knowing that he’d have to see me
nearly every day while he was at the gym working out? I wasn’t as brave as I’d
been earlier…I couldn’t bring myself to ask him. Maybe it was because I was
worried about what the answer would be. Maybe he was the love ’em and leave ’em
type. Maybe he had a lot of sex with a lot of women with no intentions of ever
getting into a relationship. Maybe if I asked him if we were in some kind of
“relationship”, he was going to think I was desperate and ridiculous. The worst
part was that then I’d still have to look at him every day and hope that he
didn’t tell anyone else.

I just couldn’t turn off my head and all
of the questions. Why isn’t this gorgeous man in a relationship at twenty-six
years old? Wouldn’t that in itself have been an indication to me before I went
and slept with him that he either doesn’t believe in relationships or he’s such
a wrecked, troubled person that no woman can stand him long enough? I mean, I
don’t even know this guy, really. What I do know about him is that he’s angry a
lot and he likes to fight. I don’t only know the bad things, though. I know
that he takes care of his sister and his nephew too. I wish I only knew the
good or the bad at this point. Knowing both only complicated things, for me
anyways. A “normal” person might not have all this angst. Relationships were
not my strong suit. I’m attracted like a magnet to men who had problems. I
honestly don’t go into the relationship thinking I’m going to “fix” him, but
once I’m in it and I find out he’s broken, I have a hard time walking away.
That would even be okay if I had a history of any luck “fixing them.” We both
just end up broken by the time it finally ends.

Maybe when Yolanda picks me up for work in
the morning I should talk to her about it. First of all, I should find out if
he’s a player. Has he already slept with all the single women at the gym?
Second, I need someone to help me decide whether or not I’m attracted to this
guy because he has problems. My last relationship was fraught with enough
problems to last a lifetime. I just don’t want to do that again.

When we got to my apartment I expected him
to leave the truck running and let me jump out. Instead, he shut off the truck
and got out and walked me to the door. It was things like that that confused
me. He hardly talked, yet when he did he was articulate and usually polite. He
was a wild man in the cage but in bed that day he’d been sweet and gentle and
attentive…

“Do you need a ride to work tomorrow? I
wouldn’t mind picking you up—”

“No!” Dang it! I said that too fast. It
was rude. “I mean, no, thank you. Yolanda and I have some things we need to
talk about so I think I’ll just ask her. She won’t mind.”

“All right, I guess I’ll see you later,”
he said. It was awkward and uncomfortable. Was I supposed to kiss him? Was he
going to kiss me?

“Okay, thanks.”
For the ride? The sex?

“Yeah, you too.”
Me too what?

I unlocked my door and turned to watch him
leave before going inside. Once I was in I closed the door and leaned up
against it. Damn! What did I get myself into?

I went over and took out my laptop. I
signed into my You Tube account and typed in MMA and Paul Delport. There were a
lot of videos going back to 2009. I clicked on one of the most recent ones and
watched it. He was incredible. He was so fast that his opponent needed a lot of
luck just to be able to catch up with him and connect a punch. I watched
another one and found myself in awe of the power behind his punches and his
kicks. There was no throwing it here and there and hoping it landed. Every
punch and every kick was perfectly timed and infused with power and control. I
was completely surprised at myself for finding it so sexy. Truth be told, so
far I hadn’t found anything about him that I didn’t find sexy.

I shut off the videos and sat there
thinking about our afternoon together. Maybe we only had sex because I’d
basically thrown myself at him. “Go with your impulses,” I had said. Could I
really blame our time together that day on him being a player? It didn’t seem
like he’d been trying to lure me back to his place for sex. When he had gone
with his impulses like I’d told him to, his touches had been so far removed
from what I watched him do in the cages last night and what I’d seen him do in
these videos. He was still great at it and experienced without a doubt, but
there was no hint of anger or aggression or control there. He was a true enigma
and I hated to admit it, but that made me want him even more.

I forced myself to try and think about
something else. I finally had a day off and my paycheck should have gone into
the bank that day. I picked up my phone and googled “washing machine repair.” I
got like two million hits in the city. I blindly picked one and called him.

“Hal’s appliance repair.”

“Hi, I have a washing machine that I need
to have fixed.”

“What’s wrong with it?” the guy on the
other end asked me.

I laughed and said, “Well, I was hoping
you could tell me.”

He laughed too and said, “Yeah, you would
think, right?” He laughed again and said, “I meant to ask what is it doing, or
not doing?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. It doesn’t agitate or
spin at all. It just fills up with water and then just sits there. I had to
bail the water out with a pot because it was just sitting there and starting to
smell.”

“Okay, I have a few ideas,” he said. I
hoped they were inexpensive ideas. “I can come by around three today if someone
is going to be there.”

“Three is good. Thanks!”

I hung up after giving him my address and
my thoughts instantly returned to Paul. I was sure he had problems…he had to.
He told me about his sister and how she’d done some of what she did just
because she was rebellious. He told me himself…at least he hinted at the fact
that he didn’t have a good relationship with his dad. That’s usually a good
clue, the parental relationship. My last boyfriend hated his mother. I found
out late it was because she was a religious fanatic and she used to constantly
tell him that he was going to hell every time he did something wrong. I felt
bad for him when I found that out and I realized that was probably the source
of his problem. He was an alcoholic. He was twenty-seven years old and had
health problems like a fifty-year-old because of it. He was in and out of
trouble because of it and I had to drive us everywhere we went toward the end
because he had so many DUIs that they took his license away.

I’d done everything I could think of to
get him into a program. I’d researched alcoholism and I’d shared my knowledge
with him. I’d researched programs and I’d shared that knowledge with him as
well. He wasn’t open to hearing any of it and once I finally decided that if he
wasn’t going to go into a program or even AA, I wasn’t going to continue to do
all the things I was doing for him, the fight was on. He didn’t go away, that
would have been too easy. He was on my doorstep, at my work, on my phone…crying
and begging and then accusing and cussing and then crying and begging again. It
nearly drove me to drink before he finally got arrested for driving his
sister’s car drunk and getting into a fender bender. Thank God he didn’t hurt
or kill anyone, but since his blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit and
he was driving on a suspended license with three prior offenses, he’d gotten
jail time. The phone calls finally stopped only after I called the jail and
told them he was harassing me. I don’t think I have the strength or resolve to
handle another relationship like that.

I headed into the kitchen to fix some
lunch. I’d all but decided that I needed to end it with Paul now before we got
to the point where I found out what was wrong with him and resolved to fix it.
I knew myself too well to let it go that far. Before I made it into the
kitchen, there was a knock on my door. I looked at the time. It was way too
early to be the washing machine guy. I wondered if it was Paul. He’d only left
ten or fifteen minutes ago. Maybe he was doing as much thinking as me and
coming back to tell me what conclusion he’d come to.

I went out to answer the door telling
myself that I was going to end it that day, once and for all. I pulled open the
door and felt my heart drop into my stomach. It wasn’t Paul on my doorstep. It
was Mitch.

PULSE
#2

 
CHAPTER ONE

I stood there for a few seconds trying to
recover from expecting Paul but finding Mitch on my doorstep. He was so damned
big that he actually blocked out the sunlight. I finally recovered but it was a
few seconds too long I found out. I didn’t even speak; I just tried to close
the door. Mitch outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds so it was no
contest. I pushed, he pushed back…I was lucky I didn’t end up on my ass. He
ended up in my living room.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I went to grab my phone and he said,
“Wait!” I already had the nine and the first one pressed in before he ripped
the phone from my hand. My next plan of action was going to be screaming…which
I’ve never done before, but what else was I going to do? This man was obviously
a maniac judging by the way he’d barged in here. I started to scream for help.
“Wait!” he yelled again in his deep, booming voice. “I’m a cop. Just calm down
for a second and I’ll show you my ID.”

“Cops don’t bust down innocent people’s
doors!”

“Look!” He had pulled out his wallet.
Holding it in front of my face now, I could see an ID with a smiling, albeit
big-headed, Mitch on one side and a gold badge on the other. It said he was a
detective with the LAPD.

“If you’re a cop, you have a lot of
explaining to do. This could be fake. Your behavior is sending out more of a
thug vibe than a cop one. What kind of cop trashes a gym and scares a woman out
of her wits by forcing his way into her apartment?”

“I didn’t trash any gym,” he said. “I
don’t doubt that was your…friend Paul, trying to make me look bad.”

“Why would Paul want to do that? And don’t
say “friend” like that, it’s creepy!” He was insinuating there was more between
us. I didn’t like it coming from him. The big ape actually had the gall to
laugh. That pissed me off more. “What are you laughing at?”