Ultimate Prize (5 page)

slick nub and clenched her pussy around his thrusting cock. Zel grasped her thighs for leverage, his fingers

biting into her skin as he pounded into her. Yoli slid up and down the tabletop, her dress bunching around

her waist, buttocks squeaking against the shiny wood.

Trembling with need, Yoli concentrated on the coiling sensation in her lower belly. Her heels pressed

into Zel’s ass as she urged him to fuck her harder, faster. Fingers moving quickly, Yoli bit her lower lip as

the first faint flutters of an orgasm rocked her core. Zel’s thrusts reached a breakneck pace as he now

sought his release. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room. Yoli whispered his name

again and again as she continued massaging her pulsing clit to draw out every last bit of sensation from her

orgasm.

Zel slammed into her so hard she gasped. Eyes clamped tightly, he shuddered and jerked as he came.

Yoli clutched at his abs, her fingernails lightly scratching his bronzed torso. She had a sudden desperate

need to kiss him, to feel his lips on hers. As if sensing her need, Zel bent down and kissed her so sweetly,

his hand lovingly caressing her face. When he pulled back, the tenderness in his gaze nearly brought tears to

her eyes. Yoli blinked hard against the prickling sensation, refusing to show just how much she actually

cared about him.

He planted a playful kiss on the tip of her nose before standing and pulling out of her. Yoli whimpered

at the sudden loss and wrinkled her nose at the wet feeling between her thighs. Smiling, Zel grasped her

hands and hauled her into a sitting position. His fingers tangled in her hair as he brought their mouths

together again. Knowing this could be their last kiss, Yoli made it count, cupping his square jaw and

caressing his slightly stubbled skin with her thumbs. She wanted to memorize every last detail.

Reluctantly they separated, Yoli heading into the master bathroom and Zel into the half bath just a few

feet away. As she tidied up, Yoli rehearsed her speech for cutting him loose. She had to make sure not to

lead him on with any sort of potential for future hookups or make him feel used. Having been on the

receiving end of that treatment, Yoli could never do the same to another person.

Yoli found Zel standing in the living room, sipping from a bottle of water. He smiled as she made her

entrance and extended a second bottle. “I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

“Parched,” she said, accepting the bottle. As she twisted off the cap, a commercial for Zel’s upcoming

match flashed across the plasma screen. The cool water rehydrated her dry mouth while she watched the

promo spots on each of the eight fighters taking part in the Caged World Championships tomorrow night.

Zel and his opponent Mace McCoy, a dead ringer for a serial killer, were the last featured. The stats shown

made little sense to Yoli, but the clips of Mace striking an opponent so hard he dropped like a bag of rocks

made her chest constrict.

Learning Mace had killed the man made her very nearly ill.

Swallowing hard as her stomach roiled with nausea, Yoli looked at Zel. “You’re fighting
that
man?”

Zel nodded. “He’s the toughest opponent I’ve ever faced.”

“He killed a man!”

“Not on purpose.”

“Like that makes it any better?” Yoli shook her head. “You can’t go through with this, Zel.”

He seemed amused by her sudden concern. “This is what I do, Yoli. It’s the risk I take.”

“It’s stupid! You’re risking life in a wheelchair or worse, for what? Some money?”

Zel held her gaze. “Yes.”

In that instant, Yoli realized ending this right now really was the only option. Caring about him was too

dangerous. Tomorrow night he’d be walking into a no-holds-barred death match. She couldn’t handle that

kind of terrifying anxiety.

“Zel—”

“Yoli—”

He frowned, and she signaled him to go first. Zel sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yoli, I

came up here planning for this to be it but…” He paused and shook his head. “I don’t know, Yoli. I’ve

realized that’s not what I want.”

The bottom fell out of Yoli’s stomach.
Oh god, no…

“I think we have something here, Yoli,” Zel continued, “and we’d be stupid to let a chance like this go.”

Yoli cringed. “Zel…” Glancing toward the ceiling, she chewed her lower lip. There was no easy way to

do this. She caught his gaze. “Zel, I understand what you’re saying. I really do. But this just isn’t a good

time for me. I didn’t seduce you with the intention of making this anything more than a fling. That’s all it

was for me.”

Pain flashed across his face. She felt sick for having hurt him.

“I don’t believe you,” Zel said finally.

Yoli shrugged with affected nonchalance. “Believe whatever you want, but I’m telling you the truth.”

“No, you’re lying. To yourself. To me.” Obviously upset, he strode to the door without so much as a

sideways glance in her direction. Zel yanked open the door and Yoli realized she couldn’t let him leave like

this.

“Zel, wait!”

He stopped abruptly. Slowly he pivoted to face her. There was nothing of the vulnerability he’d just

shown her. Instead Zel wore a steeled expression. “What?”

Taken aback by his anger, she gulped. “I’m sorry.”

His cheek twitched. “I don’t think you are.”

Hot tears stung her eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this.”

“No one ever does.”

His piece said, Zel left, slamming the door behind him. Yoli collapsed onto the nearest seat and

shattered into a million pieces.

Black hair whipping wildly, Yoli shook what her mama gave her center stage at Vegas’ hottest punk

club. Queen’s
Fat Bottomed Girls
blared over the sound system as she performed her brand-new number

for the thirtieth birthday bash of BJ Barnes, the lead singer of the infamous punk rock band Blue Sunday.

Dressed like a sassy fifties pinup, Yoli worked the crowd into a frenzy as she teased them with the slow

removal of her polka dot dress. The sight of her plump curves in vintage cherry red lingerie set them off.

She smoothed her hands over the swell of her breasts and along the satin shaper hugging her tummy and

hips. Tipped forward in her red heels, Yoli sashayed to the antique convertible parked stage left and

crawled onto the hood. Her catlike movements showed off her best assets and had the crowd catcalling.

With the grace of a gymnast, Yoli carefully balanced on the hood, her heels finding traction on the

safety mat her crew had put in place. Rocking side to side, she unhooked the back of the shaper and peeled

it away from her body. She tossed it overhead and did a sexy spin atop the hood, giving everyone a good

look at the lacy briefs covering her voluptuous ass. Yoli gave her backside a hearty smack.

The roar of approval sent shivers down her spine. Tonight, more than ever, Yoli desperately needed the

energy of the pumped-up crowd. Despite being utterly heartbroken, she approached this engagement with

the utmost professionalism. BJ deserved to feel like the center of her attention. Feeding off the crowd

allowed Yoli to play up her sexiness and mischievous nature.

Hips swiveling, she crouched low and gave them a peek between her thighs before sitting down on the

edge of the hood. Her legs dangled over the side as she kicked off her pumps and then made a show of

unsnapping her garters and peeling off one black stocking and then the other. She used one stocking as a

prop, holding it beneath her breasts as she gave them a wild shake.

Legs bare, Yoli dropped the stocking and slid off the hood. She danced back to center stage and hooked

her thumbs in the lacy red briefs. Undulating like a belly dancer, Yoli dragged the panties down her ample

hips inch by teasing inch to reveal a red G-string and the words “Happy Birthday BJ” emblazoned across

her ass cheeks in fiery orange paint. The whistles and clapping nearly drowned out the music.

She stepped out of her panties and strutted downstage until she could almost touch the crowd. Yoli

made quick work of dispensing her bra. Red and black nipple tassels fluttered free, the thin cords smacking

against her skin. She launched the bra into the crowd before grabbing her full breasts and jiggling them in

her palms. Releasing her breasts, Yoli pumped her fist in the air and danced like a madwoman to the final

twenty or so seconds of a song she considered her personal anthem.

As Freddie Mercury’s voice faded on the track and the pounding guitar and drums took over, Yoli

danced backward toward the car. Just seconds before the song ended, she hopped onto the car’s edge and

fell backward into the backseat, feet straight up in the air.

When the curtain fell, the club shook with thunderous applause. Her body vibrated with the excited

shouts and whistles. Breathless, she panted and touched her face. What should have been one of the

proudest moments of her life was tainted with the regret of what had happened with Zel. Even now the

memories of yesterday intruded. She wished she could just forget the whole ugly scene.

With her crew’s help, Yoli got out of the backseat and returned to her dressing room. Lynn helped her

clean the body paint off her backside. While not a particularly glamorous or enjoyable moment for either of

them, they managed to laugh about the lengths they both went to in order to provide the best show possible.

As always after debuting a number, they discussed the minor changes she might make to the routine the

next time she used it.

Keeping with her fifties theme for the night, Yoli changed into a hip-hugging red dress with a sexy

pencil skirt and pleated bust. She styled her hair into a fifties-inspired coiffure and slipped on a pair of

designer pumps. Back out in the crowd, Yoli plastered on her brightest smile and schmoozed. She wished

BJ the very happiest birthday and even had a piece of cake. Just about everyone came up to her, gushing

about the show. She loved hearing from audience members, especially tonight when she was more than a

little depressed.

As soon as she could, Yoli slipped away unnoticed through a back exit. Her entourage of assistants,

stylists and crew members stayed at the club with her blessing. They deserved a night of enjoyment for all

their hard work. Mel, the attentive and incredibly kind chauffeur provided by the hotel, bundled her into

the backseat of a limo and whisked her away from the noisy nightspot.

Feeling so incredibly alone, Yoli stared out the window and watched the blur of the passing strip. Zel’s

face popped into her thoughts. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Right about now

he’d be climbing into that eight-sided cage for one hellaciously barbaric fight. Her stomach churned at the

conjured image of his bruised and battered body. If he were hurt badly, she’d just die.

It seemed ridiculous that she could care about one person so deeply after so short a time, but there it

was. Her heart clenched as she realized just how much she cared about Zel. This wasn’t infatuation or lust.

This was something more. Something so serious she trembled with its power.

The limo rolled to a stop and moments later her door opened. Jarred by the bright lights and bustling

crowd milling around the hotel’s entrance, Yoli tried to reconcile her thoughts as she slid across the seat.

She accepted Mel’s gloved hand and allowed him to help her out of the car. He smiled and bid her

goodnight. She returned the sentiment before skirting the group in her path and heading into the hotel.

“Miss Rubens?” The concierge called out her stage name as he stepped around his podium. He waved a

burnt orange envelope. “This was left for you earlier but you’d already left the hotel before I could pass it

along. My apologies, ma’am.”

“It’s fine. Thank you.” Yoli took the envelope and stepped aside to let a rather large group pass by. She

didn’t recognize the handwriting on the outside of the envelope. She glanced at the concierge but he was

already engaged by another couple.

Curious, she squeezed together the metal brads and shook the contents of the envelope into her palm.

She frowned with confusion at the picture revealed to her. A group of shabbily dressed young children

ranging from toddlers to teens stood on the steps of a rundown building. Faded and chipped painted letters

arched over the entrance.
St. Marko Krizin Orphanage.

She stared at the faces of the children, noticing their haunted eyes. Upon closer inspection, they all

looked a bit skinny and ever so sad. Her heart broke for the poor little creatures. When she flipped the

picture over, Yoli’s eyes fell to a handwritten message.

This is why I fight.

And suddenly Yoli understood. It was about the money but not in the way she’d assumed. Zel was