FIGHT NIGHT #1: Three Story MMA Romance Bundle (16 page)

Chapter Thirty

James

James sat up sharply.

Toni rolled off him with a squeal of “Hey!”

But the big, British fighter had lost interest in all the lovey-dovey stuff, and was staring at Toni with frightening intensity.

“Just
what do you mean?”
He demanded.

Toni froze.

She suddenly felt a thrill of guilt. Fucking another man behind Baller’s back was one thing – her asshole of a boyfriend had been banging hoodrats and pornstars from one end the country to the other the whole time they were together.

But to betray his
sport
?

That was cold.

But, as it turned out, she didn’t need to.

“
Holy shit
,” James was looking blankly ahead, running memories of all the countless fights he’d watched to study Hannibal’s technique.

Bloody hell, he suddenly realized. She’s
right
.

“I must have watched a dozen fights,” the Scotsman turned excitedly to Toni, “and I never saw him win by submission. Not
once
. It was
always
TKO or a judge’s decision.”

Toni relaxed a little. He was figuring this out on his own, instead of her betraying her boyfriend.

“All this time – we’ve all just been
assuming
he was dangerous on the canvas. Because of his size. His build. His aggression.”

All three of those things were important in wrestling – but they weren’t
everything
.

James looked to Toni for confirmation, and she nodded.

“He does some Krav,” she shrugged. “Brazilian jiu jitsu. But only the basics. I mean, he keeps going back to boxing. Even Delwood warns him about that.”

James’ eyes narrowed.

MMA had started off as a competition pitting one style against another – a karate champion against a wrestler, for example. As time went on, the fighting style itself had evolved into what people popularly think of MMA now - a mixture of punches, kicks and wrestling.

Fighters obviously have their preferences – like Hannibal, James was primarily a boxer. He’d been taught the ‘Queensbury Rules’ back at private school in Fettes.

But the good fighters were trained in all three – and were adaptable.

Of the three styles, wrestling was the most intense. Two men wrangling on the ground required fiendish strength and agility – and
strategy
.

Once you were down there, pinned or pinning, it was like a game of chess. Your opponent would try to figure out how to get out of the hold you had him in, and you’d try and think two steps ahead – to counter his move before he’d even made it.

That’s why you couldn’t skip on wrestling – Krav Maga, Brazillian JiuJitsu, or even old-fashioned Judo.

And it sounded like Baller
had
.

James suddenly felt fire in his belly. His heart raced. He suddenly realized that if Taffy was right, and Hannibal’s people agreed to a rematch, James could potentially
win
.

With a lustful snarl, James pounced across the bed, and threw Toni down onto the sheets.

Crushing her beneath him, he kissed her passionately, cock growing hard at the sensation of her plump, pliable lips writhing against his.

“
You
,” James growled, “are fucking
irresistible
.” He kissed her passionately once again. “Hell, I don’t ever want to have to let you go.”

Toni laughed. She glanced at her Bulova watch – which was all she wore.

“Well, you got me until 6am honey – so pretend we have all the time in the world until then.”

James smiled, and kissed her passionately once again.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to savor every second.”

Chapter Thirty One

Toni

They made love like newlyweds that night.

For James, it was a revelation. He’d never met
anybody
as uninhibited and sexual as Toni. With her curvy brown body, she introduced him to things no posh little English girl could ever imagine.

And for Toni, it was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. A hot, hard, handsome lover who was attentive, and intimate with her. Kisses. Squeezing her hand. Staring into her eyes, even as she squeezed them shut to climax on his big, thick cock.

After gang-bangers, and rap stars, and selfish assholes who just treated her like meat – she felt like a princess.

Which is perhaps why she felt so uninhibited.

“Baby, I’ve done
everything
,” she purred, kissing James’ throat as they snuggled together. “You know how they say black girls don’t give head?” She started planting kisses down James’ muscular torso – and soon taught him otherwise.

“Oh, fuuuuuck,” James groaned, as Toni expertly worshipped his straining cock with her plump lips and agile tongue; until he spurted hotly into her mouth.

She swallowed eagerly, licking her lips. Then, crawling up James body, she kissed the Scotsman hard on the mouth, and he tasted his own cum on her breath.

“Yeah,” she winked, with a smug little smile. “I give head.”

They slept intermittently, always curled in each other’s arms – sometimes with James still buried inside of her. Toni felt like a sticky, used mess – and she was loving it.

James was respectful. She was so used to assholes like Hannibal, who’d pull down his pants with demands of “suck my cock, bitch” or “eat my ass.”

(What was it with black guys and eating ass?)

These were demands to which she’d comply, with the deference only a ghetto upbringing, surrounded by dangerous men, could instill.

But in contrast, James demanded nothing – and that made her almost excited to offer him tastes from her lexicon of forbidden sex tips.

She felt like a sorceress – and James her willing victim. By the time sunlight began filtering through the curtains, she’d climaxed eight times – and her ass and pussy ached deliciously.

“My God,” James groaned, sprawled out on the covers, absolutely drained. “That was
…
” He laughed. “I can’t even find the words.”

Toni crawled on top of him, her curvy body fitting perfectly with his. She was practically purring like a pussycat.

“I don’t want to go,” she sighed happily.

James stroked her head. “Well, don’t.” He turned to her. “I mean it. I’m here for the next three days. Why don’t you stay?”

Toni’s plump, kiss-bruised lips curled.

“Baller’s got a private plane flying us back to L.A. at 11am.” She stroked the hair on his chest. “It’s not that I’m not tempted, baby… But this?” She looked around the luxurious hotel room. “This wasn’t real, honey.”

“It
felt
real.”

Toni laid her head on James’ chest, and listened to him breathe.

The worst part? It had felt real to her, too.

Chapter Thirty Two

James

The phone rang.

Snatched from his doze, James struggled to sit up – having to peel Toni off him.

Bleary eyed and groggy, he reached for the phone on the bedside cabinet, and growled into it: “Yes?”

“Jimmy!” There was no mistaking that accent. It was Taffy. “You safe and sound, boyo? Is that cute little caramel candy still with you?”

James rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Toni’s still here.”

“Good, good.”

“Fuck, Taffy,” James was looking at the time on his Rolex. It wasn’t even six yet. “Why the fuck are you calling me?” And then he blinked. “And what are you doing up? Last time I saw you, you were
en route
to a hangover they’d write medical textbooks about.”

Taffy snorted.

“I’m a Valley’s Boy. Take more than a bottle of whiskey to knock me on my arse.”

James snorted.

“Speaking of which,” Taffy continued, “I got to speaking with Delwood Grey last night – that black bastard’s manager.”

“
Hannibal
,” James corrected. “Stop calling him ‘that black bastard.’ The Americans don’t find your casual racism nearly as endearing as we do back home.”

Taffy ignored him.

“They said ‘no’,” the little Welshman growled.

“Who said ‘no’ to what?”

“To a rematch,” Taffy explained. “Delwood said it was because there wasn’t a good ‘commercial justification’ – but I know the truth. That black bas… erm,
Hannibal
… He’s
scared
.”

James snorted. After the revelation last night, maybe ‘Baller’ Alexander had a
reason
to be scared.

“So where does that leave us?” The sting of his defeat was starting to blister. James now knew the fight had been a lot closer than he’d realized.

“I’m working on it,” Taffy promised. “Now, in the meantime, what are you going to do with Terri?”

“
Toni
,” James corrected her.

“Whoever,” Taffy growled.

“She needs to get to the airport by ten. I was going to call the driver for her.”

“I’ll do it for you. Take her out the side door – we’ll avoid any prying eyes if we do that.”

Remembering how important discretion had been to her, James nodded.

“Give us thirty minutes.”

“You got it, boyo.”

And then the phone clicked dead.

Chapter Thirty Three

Toni

Groaning, James rolled over to where Toni was lying, and softly stroked her face.

She looked like an angel, sprawled out across the bed with her eyes screwed tightly shut. The sunlight was bathing her chocolate-brown curves, and the contrast of her skin against the white Egyptian cotton was stunning.

James felt himself growing hard.

He stroked Toni’s cheek again, and then leaned in to kiss her.

With a contented sigh, Toni opened her eyes, and looked directly into the handsome Scotsman’s face.

“Morning, sugar,” she murmured.

“Good morning yourself,” James grinned, running his hand down the curving vista of her hips.

Sighing sleepily, Toni didn’t object when James rolled her onto her back, and slid his hot, hard body across hers.

His hips slipped between her thighs like a jigsaw. Toni opened her legs wider, and accepted the poking, prodding hardness between her legs until James finally found the right spot and…

“Huuungh,” Toni arched her back, as James thrust inside of her.

“God,” the Scotsman groaned, as he felt his straining cock embraced by the velvet warmth of Toni’s pussy. “You’re so incredible.”

Toni looked up, with her big brown eyes.

“You’re not so bad yourself, sugar.”

Curling her slender brown arms around his broad, white shoulders, the little black girl urged James on; and he thrust slowly inside of her.

It was beautiful. Slow, and intimate, and magical.

“Oh, God,” James groaned, kissing her hotly. “I’m going to cum.”

“Please,” Toni stroked his cheek. “Cum inside me, baby.”

And he did. Toni moaned, as she felt James’ thick cock swell, and throb inside her – a short, sweet, gentle climax to a night of passion.

They lay entwined in each other for a moment or two, until Toni gasped and pushed the big man off her.

“I can’t breathe, baby.”

James chuckled, and flopped over onto his back. Chest heaving, he stared at the ceiling while he got his breath back.

For long, lingering, delicious minutes, Toni lay across him, head on his broad chest, and closed her eyes.

She listened to his thumping heart, and felt his chest lift and fall to the rhythm of his breathing.

She didn’t want to move from that spot. Not ever.

But then her eyes flickered upwards, and she caught the time on the digital alarm click by the bed.

“Fuck.” Toni hauled herself up, and confirmed the time on her Bulova watch. “I’ve got to get going.”

“Taffy’s coming with the car in thirty minutes.”

Toni snorted.

“Just enough time for a shower, and then the walk of shame.” She rolled over and kissed James wetly on the mouth. “Although I honestly don’t feel like I have anything to be ashamed about.”

Then her eyes narrowed.

“But whatever happens, we
can’t
let Baller find out about this.”

Chapter Thirty Four

James

While Toni took a steamy shower, James found himself a pair of jeans and a tight, black t-shirt. Disheveled, unshaven, and smelling like he’d been up all night having sex, the Scotsman still cut an imposing figure.

He popped two Alka Seltzer into a glass of water and called the lobby.

“We’d like to leave by the side door,” he explained, anticipating what kind of tip they’d expect. “Can you have somebody show us out?”

When the front desk confirmed that they’d be sending somebody up, James nodded, and hung up.

He looked up just in time to see Toni stepping from the bathroom, steam billowing around her.

She was wrapped in fluffy white towels, and without makeup her beautiful face was heartbreakingly girlish and innocent.

“You look wonderful,” James grinned.

“I look like I just spent the night fucking,” she laughed. “And now I smell like your body wash. What is that shit?” She smelt her wrist. “It’s lush.”

“Floris No.86,” James explained.

Smiling, Toni padded across the room and wrapped her arms around James’ neck. They kissed, and her lips were warm, and welcoming, and soft.

He felt himself growing hard inside his jeans.

So did Toni.

“No time for that,” she giggled. “You seen my dress?”

Toni’s $1,500
Herve Leger
bandage dress was located under the bed, crumpled and sweaty. With a grimace, she wriggled into it – the sleek microfiber caressing every curve of her petite body.

Once back in her Christian Louboutin 6” nude heels, the beautiful black girl looked good enough to hit the catwalk – but at 6am on a Sunday morning, it was pretty obvious that wherever she went, she’d be going wearing last night’s outfit.

“The walk of shame,” she snorted.

“The ‘got laid’ parade,” James corrected. “Here, try this.”

From his wardrobe, he pulled a crisp, white dress shirt. Toni pulled it on over her dress, and secured it with a leather belt.

Instant chic.

“Come on,” James offered his big hand. “I better get you home.”