Beast: An MMA Stepbrother Romance (17 page)

Shit.  We both know what’s coming next.  Thrasher crushes the shit out of my hand, to the point where I think I feel something break.  At the exact same moment, he twists my arm backwards and brings me down to the ground, where he puts his stupidly big arm around my neck and pulls me into a headlock.

This is the point where most people would start to think about giving up, but instead, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs before Thrasher’s arm can cut off my airway.  Thrasher yanks hard on my neck, and the crowd starts to chant his name again, expecting me to tap out any second.  I can’t exactly get out from under his body, and there’s no way I’m breaking the headlock, so I do the only thing I can do:  grab the back of his massive neck, pull it down into my shoulder, and put him in a headlock of his own.  Normally, this isn’t exactly the world’s smartest strategy.  In theory, I should run out of air way before he does, and if he gets frustrated, he could put a dangerous amount of pressure on my neck.

The thing is, though…I don’t give a fuck about that.  I’m not tapping out.  I’m not giving up.  I’m taking Emma to that afterparty even if I have to do it as a fucking ghost.  And I’m hoping that dedication will buy me just enough time that Thrasher runs out of air before I do.

Either the crowd’s gone dead, or I can’t hear them anymore.  The only thing I can hear is Thrasher, thrashing his head around and trying to break my headlock.  I’m pretty sure my face is starting to turn purple at this point, but I keep Thrasher in the headlock, causing him to press his mouth up against my ear and start cussing me out in Russian.

Yeah, keep doing that.  Keep using up your air.  If you do, I just might have a chance.  I knock the side of my head lightly into Thrasher’s nose, and then I do it a couple more times.  I’m not trying to do any damage; I’m just trying to piss him off enough to keep cussing me out.  The hard part is not laughing at how annoying I’m being.  Who thought all that teasing Emma would come in useful in the ring?

And it’s actually fucking working.  Thrasher’s using up a lot of air, and I can feel his grip on my neck weakening just a little bit.  I’m worried it’s still not going to be enough, though.  There’s white noise creeping into my field of vision, and everything’s starting to go blurry. 

Fuck passing out, though.  I made Emma a promise.  I need to keep her safe.  She’s mine.  She’s mine and I’m hers.

What the fuck is Thrasher doing to my back?  Is he trying to get me to cough?  He’s slapping it like he’s trying to swat a mosquito.  And why’s the crowd cheering?

Wait, is he tapping out?

Three or four pairs of hands come in between me and Thrasher, pulling us apart.  I gasp for air and open my eyes, coming back to reality as the cheering gets louder and the crowd gets up on their feet.

I think I actually fucking won.  My first reaction is to start laughing, but when I have enough energy to stand up, I pounce into the center of the ring and roar into the crowd.  I am the fucking Beast, after all.

There are two guys in suits in the ring with me.  One of them holds my hand up in the air while a third guy comes into the ring with an insane looking trophy covered in diamonds.  When he hands it off to me, I lift it over my head and roar again, and the crowd starts chanting my name.

But it’s weird.  I just won the craziest fight of my life, and it feels good.  Just good.  Not great.  Not amazing.  My brother doesn’t come down from the rafters and thank me for fucking saving him.  My mom doesn’t run up into the ring and tell me she knew I had it in me.  I knew that shit wasn’t actually going to happen if I did something like this, but I don’t think the heartbroken little 14 year old inside me did. 

The more I look out at the crowd, the less I want to be here, so I give them a wave goodbye and climb out of the ring.  Then my eyes land on Emma.  She’s crying her eyes out, and she runs up and hugs me as soon as I get down from the octagon.  I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her like I’m never going to fucking let go.

“Oh God, I thought you were going to die up there.”

“No fucking way.  We’re not done yet.”

I pull Emma away and wipe the tears off her cheeks with my good hand.  Then, I grin as I watch her eyes light up when she remembers the promise I made to her before the match.

“Come on.  Let’s get out of here and do some reading.”

Chapter 24:  Emma

How do you dress for an afterparty full of dangerous criminals you’re trying to report to the FBI?  I brought a couple different outfits, but I’m worried that all of them look like I’m trying too hard.  Finally, I settle for the tastefully low-cut blue dress I wore to senior prom.  It’s kind of the same thing, right?  After spending way too long trying to go for a “I totally belong at your event” look, I decide that I’ve probably gotten about as close as I’m going to get, and I come out of the bathroom and show it to Caleb.

“How do I look?”

“Insanely fuckable.”

I could say the same thing about Caleb:  he’s all cleaned up, shaved, and wrapped up in a tuxedo that makes his massive frame look powerful in an entirely different kind of way. 

“Well, you’re going to have to keep your hands off until we’ve got enough info to give to Agent Woods.  If you’re all over me like you were at our
parents’ wedding
, no one’s going to want to talk to us.”

“Yeah.  You’re right.  But as soon as we’ve got what we need…”

Caleb shoots me a devastatingly sexy look and raises his eyebrows.  “You’re fucking mine.”

***

This is
crazy
.  People who look like they stepped off the set of The Godfather keep coming up and shaking Caleb’s hand and telling him how much they loved his last match.  I didn’t really think about it before we arrived, but we’re basically the guests of honor, so just about everyone wants to come and talk to us.

And the venue is incredible.  We’re in the back room of some kind of super fancy hotel, and there are chandeliers the size of Gina’s car hanging down from the ceiling.  Everything’s so nice and classy-looking that I have to fight off the urge to network.  Instead, I sneak away while some ancient guy with a thick Russian accent tries to recruit Caleb to something called the “Trans-Siberian Warriors League” and pour myself a glass of $2000 champagne.

They’re still talking when I get back.  “Alright.  Yeah.  That’s…very interesting.  I have to talk to my girlfriend about it before I move to Russia, but you should call my manager and we’ll keep talking.”

Caleb puts his arm around me as he says the word “girlfriend.”  He’s been calling me that all night, and every time he does it I get this warm, tingly feeling in my chest.  Or maybe that’s just the champagne.

The Russian guy nods and walks away, and Caleb leads me in the other direction.

“Trans-Siberian Warriors League, huh?  Sounds fun.”

Caleb laughs.  “Hey, that guy was offering me 750K a match.”

“So am I going to have to buy a parka?”

“I don’t think so.  But shit, if it wasn’t for you, I might actually fucking think about it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m keeping you from making millions punching guys in the face in Siberia.”

“You’re worth it.”  Caleb puts his hands on my sides and kisses me hard.  I open one eye and look around the room, just to make sure that nobody’s looking at us weird, and then I go back to kissing Caleb.

“Hey,” I say, pulling away, “No one’s coming up to us.  Maybe if we keep doing this, they’ll leave us alone long enough to get some pictures.”

“Now that’s a plan I can get behind.”  Caleb grabs my butt, and I almost spill $100 dollars worth of champagne on his tux.

After a few more minutes of kissing, sneaky groping, and dirty talk, Caleb pulls out the phone and starts taking pictures.  I was super nervous about this part going in, but it seems like half the people here are too drunk to care about a horny couple taking an impromptu photo shoot.  Caleb tells me where to stand, and then I smile for the camera, and then we do it again.

“Alright, yeah, I’m pretty sure we have half the party.  What do you say we get out of here and take the party back to your bedroom?”

That sounds like a great idea, for about a million different reasons.

Leaving the party is by far the most stressful part, though.  Are we leaving too soon?  What if someone thinks that we’re hiding something?  How many people do we have to say goodbye to so that it’s not weird?  By the time we manage to get out of the room, I’m starting to shake.  It doesn’t help that we have to go through three doors guarded by the scariest bouncers I’ve ever seen before we’re back in the hotel lobby.

Out in the parking lot, Agent Woods pulls up beside us in a black SUV.  “Do you have the phone?”

“Yeah.  If I give it to you, are we good?”

“Sure, if you’ve got the pictures.”

Caleb hands Agent Woods the phone through the car window.  “See for yourself.”

Agent Woods takes the phone and opens up our photo album, and starts swiping through them.  I blush as I realize that I’m basically making sex eyes at the camera in every single picture, and that these pictures are probably going to be used as evidence in a bunch of major criminal cases.  Oops.

Agent Woods looks up from the phone.  “This is incredible.  As far as I concerned, you can consider your charges dropped.”

I didn’t realize how good it would make me feel to hear that, but when I do, I start to tear up and almost kiss Caleb right in front of the FBI agent who knows we’re stepsiblings.  Thankfully, I catch myself, but I’m pretty sure she knows what’s going on by now.  She’s got a knowing smile on her face.

“Now, if I were you, I’d be careful about associating with California Kings for a while.  There’s a chance the whole organization’s going to go down hard.”

Caleb laughs.  “Yeah, you’re not going to have to worry about that.  I’m not going back.  I have more important things to worry about.”

And that’s the thing that makes the tears start falling.  Agent Woods thanks us again for our time, rolls up her window, and drives off into the night.  I watch her SUV, go, wait until it’s completely out of sight, and throw my arms around Caleb, kissing him hard under the hotel lights.

Chapter 25:  Emma

I look at the clock on my nightstand and try not to scream as Caleb’s strong, savage mouth moves between my legs and finds my clit.  This is my punishment for suggesting we wait a couple more weeks to tell our parents about us:  Caleb picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder, and licking me hard on my bed.  We’ve been sneaking around ever since Mom and Larry got back from their honeymoon, and Caleb thinks it’s only going to be a matter of time until one of them ends up catching us in an extremely inappropriate position if they don’t know to give us privacy. 

So Caleb made me a deal:  if I could make it ten minutes in a room with him without screaming so loud the whole house could hear, we could keep sneaking around until I leave for Berkley in a couple weeks.  Otherwise, we have to go to the PoodleMatch launch this afternoon as a couple and tell our parents about us. 

I thought I could hold out.  I mean, it was only ten minutes!  But it hasn’t even been three minutes and I’m already right at the edge.  Does Caleb do tongue exercises or something? 

By minute four, I’m pulling his hair, holding on for dear life and trying not to scream.  By minute four and a half, I’m pressing my thighs against his stubbly face, clenching every muscle in my body and thinking about the least sexy things I can possibly think of.  By minute six, it’s all over.  I scream so loud that the house across the street can probably hear it.

Caleb grins into my throbbing, sensitive flesh, and then pulls away with a satisfied look on his face.  Damn it.  I guess we’re going public.

“Fine,” I say, out of breath from trying to not to come, “You win.  But if I get disowned, you’d better let me stay in your dad’s mansion.”

“If they get mad, I’ll tell them we matched on PoodleMatch.  Then my dad won’t be able to say shit.”

I’m not exactly confident that that’s going to work after Caleb told his dad that he broke his hand trying to move the poodle statue at his dad’s house so he’d have more room in the garage.  Two unlikely poodle-related lies in one week?  Still, even though he’s not planning on fighting any time soon, it’s probably better if the real way we met stays a secret. 

I’m just nervous about telling them.

As usual, Caleb reads my mind.  “Don’t worry about it.  Your mom thinks I’m awesome, and my dad probably won’t care.”

“But couldn’t it hurt your future with the company?”

Caleb looks me dead in the eye.  “You’re worth it.  Now come on, let’s get dressed.  Now that we’re official, I want to show you off.”

***

Wait, did all our co-workers think we were actually dating?  No one actually looks very surprised when I walk in on Caleb’s arm.  Maybe we were being a little more obvious than I thought.

Of course, they’re not really looking at us, either.  Thanks to Caleb’s little challenge, we’re late, and Larry’s already onstage, talking about love while pictures from his honeymoon play behind him.

“This is perfect.  Dad’s probably going to be so pumped up from hyping PoodleMatch that he’d congratulate us even if I told him we were joining a biker gang.”

“Let’s hope so.  I’m still really nervous.”

Caleb kisses the side of the forehead and then whispers into my ear.  “I’ve got a surprise for you after this.”

Knowing Caleb, that surprise is probably going to involve a private place and something unimaginably dirty.  I feel myself starting to get wet as the possibilities run through my head.

“Hey, you two, glad you could make it.” 

Shit, it’s Dylan. 

“Looks like you spent some quality time together on your little vacation.”

Dylan smiles at us awkwardly.

God, why did the FBI make us sign that non-disclosure agreement?  I’d love to tell Dylan that we brought down a party full of dangerous criminals and that’s why we weren’t at work, but I’m legally obliged to say that Caleb and I went hiking in the Cascade Mountains for a week, making us look totally lazy to basically our whole office.