Full Contact (21 page)

In that moment, I love Doctor Death even more than potato chips. But the moment doesn’t last.

“Sia, I could use your help.” He gestures me forward, and I push up off the floor with a groan. Surprise. Surprise. I’m in Doctor Death’s section of the class. Good thing Ray isn’t here.

“First move I’m going to demonstrate,” he says as he lies on his back on the mat, “is a basic triangle submission.” He motions for me to mount him, which involves sitting astride his hips, knees to the mat. When I’m in position, he curls one leg over my neck and yanks my right arm across my body until my body weight drops and his thigh is pressed against my throat. I stiffen as the pressure restricts my airflow, but before I can panic, Doctor Death winks.

“Always wanted to get you in submission, Sia. I am a submission specialist, after all.”

Indignation replaces fear, and I huff as he releases me and explains the move to the class. While I recover, he pulls up another victim…er, volunteer and demonstrates a dominant position, which I boil down to “man on top.”

Next it’s time for us to practice our mounts. I try to get my mind out of the gutter when Doctor Death says he wants to mount some volunteers. I manage to avoid him by pairing up with one of the “Fit” girls for the full mount and half mount, but when it’s time for the rear mount, Doctor Death calls my name.

Moments later, I find myself prone on the mat with Doctor Death sitting astride me horsey style. He tells the class the name of the game is control. The rear mount is one of the most dominant and controlling positions because it leaves the person on the bottom in a very vulnerable position. I don’t feel vulnerable, just tired after too much physical activity. And since I’m lying cozy on the mat, I consider having a little nap until Doctor Death yanks me up to all fours and kneels behind me with his hands on my hips.

Still not feeling vulnerable, but hoping that whatever Doctor Death is now grinding into my ass starts with the letter
C
and ends with the letters
UP
, I look over my shoulder and glare. “What’s this called?”

He gives me another wink. “Having fun.”

“Don’t have too much fun, or you’ll be getting a nasty surprise on
your
ass the next time you come in to the tattoo parlor.”

Doctor Death laughs. “Sia. I’m shocked. I never thought you had it in you.”

“I’m discovering I have a lot more inside me than I ever knew.”

“From this position, I can demonstrate a rear naked choke.” Doctor Death leans over my back and slides his arm around my neck, pulling me up to my knees until my throat rests in the crook of his elbow. My body tenses. I’ve watched enough fights to recognize this powerful and super-difficult-to-escape submission, and I’m pretty damn sure being held immobile with my air cut off is going to set off my triggers.

And yes, when Doctor Death pulls me back so I’m lying flat on top of him, my ass pressed against his “cup” and my windpipe tight in the crook of his elbow, I hear the familiar roar of blood in my ears, much like the roar of the crowd when the Predator had the Meat Grinder in this same hold. Everyone thought it was all over for the Meat Grinder, until he went Tasmanian Devil, wiggling, squirming, shrimping, and bridging until the Predator was forced to release his hold. Of course, the Predator still took him down, but I can be a devil too.

Taking a deep breath, I fight back the panic, and thrash and wiggle against Doctor Death like my life depended on it. I use every move I’ve seen in the fights, struggling the way I wish I had struggled with Luke. That night I froze, unable to process how someone I trusted implicitly could betray me so profoundly. This time, exhilarated by the fact I’ve fought back the fear, I fight. Moments later I am free and crouched in a defensive position on the mat.

Doctor Death pushes himself to his side and quirks an eyebrow. “And that would be a way to escape a rear naked choke if one were in the ring, although it was entirely unnecessary during a class demo.”

“Saved you from losing a coupla limbs.”

I look over my shoulder and my stomach does a back flip. Ray is leaning against the wall, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other, as if he’s been there for quite some time. He’s wearing his purple fight shorts and a gray T-shirt stretched tight over his deliciously hard body. But when he catches my gaze, I look away. I want to see him, but I don’t. Last night was enough heartache to last a lifetime.

“Come.” Ray holds out his hand to me, and I shake my head.

“I’m in the middle of a class. I’m learning how to fight.” Then I lift an eyebrow. “Might be useful if I found myself in a dangerous situation.”

He swallows hard. “You want to fight, I’ll teach you.”

Hands clenched, I push myself to my feet and close the distance between us so the rest of the class doesn’t get an unexpected show. “I thought we were done,” I say, keeping my voice low. “You said you were a danger to me. You said you couldn’t go through losing someone again. Then you just dropped me off at home and didn’t answer my texts.”

“Man finds himself in a situation where his heart is trying to rule his head, he needs to take a step back. Get some focus.”

My bottom lip quivers. “Well, while you were getting focused, I was thinking we were over. So I’m moving on. I don’t want to play this game where you keep secrets and pull away, then show up again and think everything will be okay. I need trust, Ray. More than anything else.”

He scrapes a hand through his hair and exhales, his forehead creasing as if he’s in pain. “Last night, I drove around and thought of ways I could keep you safe, starting with finishing the job I’m doing and not taking on anymore. As of this morning, that’s in the works. And I got you this.” He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a necklace, dark-colored amber teardrop on a silver chain.

“You got me a present?”

“Didn’t make it, but I thought it matched your eyes.”

My chest tightens with emotion as I take the necklace. “It’s beautiful. I won’t take it off.”

“That’s the idea.” He gestures for me to turn and then clasps the necklace around my neck. The teardrop sits lightly on my skin. I look up and catch Tag watching us. He winks and I bite back a smile.

“Does this mean you’re going to tell me what’s going on?” I say, turning to face him.

He shakes his head. “Better if you don’t know.”

“It has nothing to do with your PI business, does it?”

A pained expression crosses his face. “Sia…”

“What if I guess?”

“I’ll have to lie to you. I don’t want to do that.”

With a glance back toward the class, I sigh. “Thank you for the necklace. I’ve gotta get back to Tag. Maybe we can talk later.”

Ray cups the back of my neck and pulls me closer. “Fuzz is just gonna make you jump up and down for another half hour. You want to learn to protect yourself, I’ll show you how.”

“I don’t think—”

“Please.”

My Predator said “please.” “Okay.”

He walks me over to a secluded corner of the gym, stopping along the way to tell Tag he’s taking over my training today. Tag shoots me a questioning glance and I shrug. It’s only half an hour. What could possibly go wrong?

Ray runs through some grappling basics, and I surprise us both with the amount of info I’ve picked up just watching the fights. Yes, I know about armbars and kimuras, foot bars, triangle chokes, and guillotines. Not that I have the technique down, but I know a gogoplata when I see one.

Amused by my interest in the more complicated holds, Ray grabs a Submission Master from the rack and makes me lie on my back, positioning the grappling dummy on top of me.

Weighing in at eighty pounds, the black nylon–coated dummy is anatomically correct but lacks the humanlike appearance of the less sinister Grapple Man. However, eighty pounds is no small amount of weight, and by the time Ray has finished bending the Submission Master’s limbs into position, I can barely breathe.

“I submit. I submit.”

Ray laughs and locks the dummy’s arms so it bears some of its own weight. “I’m trying to teach you something. Don’t distract me.”

“And I’m not supposed to be distracted with the Submission Master lying on top of me?”

Crouched down beside me, Ray gives the dummy a considered glance. “Hmmm. Now that you mention it, I don’t like the way he’s lookin’ at you.” Ray lifts the dummy and tosses him to the side as if he weighed eight pounds, not eighty, then he lies on top of me, taking the dummy’s place, his weight on his elbows, his legs between my thighs.

My body responds in an instant, heating from zero to boiling point in a heartbeat, and I melt beneath the intensity of his gaze.

“We’ve never done this before.” I soak in his warmth, the weight of his body, the safety of his arms.

Ray frowns. “Grappling?”

“No, silly. We’ve never made…” Love. But I can’t say it if I don’t feel it. And I can’t feel it if I don’t trust him. So I try again. “We never had sex lying down. Like in a bed.”

His eyes soften, warm. “Thought you couldn’t do beds.”

“Thought I couldn’t defend against a rear naked choke or handle having someone lying on top of me, but I seem to be doing okay tonight.” I bite my lip and take the kind of risk I would never have taken before. “Maybe we should try three for three.”

“Anything your heart desires, beautiful girl.” He leans down and kisses me, soft and sweet. So gentle. I forget for a moment he is the Predator because all I see is the man.

“Christ. Not again. Every time a guy hooks up with someone in the gym…” Rampage coughs indiscreetly a few feet away, and Ray looks up and scowls.

“Not your party.”

“It’s never my party.” Rampage sighs. “But one day, it’s gonna be me on that mat pretending to teach a girl moves so I can catch some quick nookie in the middle of practice.”

Ray’s scowl deepens. “You here for a reason, or you just haven’t been punched enough today?”

“Yeah. I’m here with a message from Torment.” Rampage snorts. “He says ‘get a room.’”

I didn’t hurt you

“Wow.”

I don’t know what I expected Ray’s apartment to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this eclectic feng shui–inspired loft conversion with its dark, polished hardwood floors, exposed beams, and matching support pillars along the center of an open-plan living space. Ornately carved doors line one wall, and a small bathroom is inset in the exposed brick beneath the white-painted piping. A crown-shaped teardrop chandelier hangs over a long, wooden dining table surrounded by a patchwork of quilted chairs, and a bright purple rug brightens up the living area, dominated by an enormous, overstuffed, velvet-covered couch.

“Friend of mine is a designer. I told her what I wanted, gave her a coupla things I collected when I was abroad, and we worked it out together.”

“Well, it’s incredible.” So incredible I hope she lives far, far away. “If I lived here, I would never leave.”

A smile ghosts his lips and he heads for the kitchen. “That means a lot coming from an artist.”

“Doesn’t take an artist to appreciate beauty.” I take a seat on the zebra-fabric covered chair at the kitchen island and Ray pulls out a bottle of vodka.

“Saw you drinking this at the fight.”

I hold up my hands in a warding gesture. “Ray…me and vodka…it’s not a good relationship. It’s like me and potato chips. I can’t stop with just one.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll stop you before you pass out. No fun drinking alone.” He pours two shots and hands one to me. Our fingers touch and a zing of anticipation shoots straight to my core. We’re going to have sex on his bed, and although for most people it is hardly a noteworthy event, it is such a big step for me that I feel like I did my very first time—except I won’t have to worry about Tag interrupting and chasing my man away with Dad’s gun.

“So this is where you bring women to seduce them.” I sip my drink and wander through the dining area, trailing my fingers over the smooth wooden table. “Ply them with alcohol and then what?”

He studies me, his gaze focused, intent. “Never brought a woman here. Take off your shirt.”

“Why?”

A slow, sensual smile spreads across his face. “I wanna pour vodka all over you and lick it off.”

I stare at him for a moment as my brain tries to sort that one into a “known sexual practices” box. Failing miserably, it shoots out a “strip” command and I whip my T-shirt over my head. “I thought we were going to do, you know, something else that involved a certain item of furniture.”

“Can’t do something else with your clothes on.”

Cool air brushes over my skin, tightening my nipples, and I head over to the shelves inset in the brick wall, ostensibly to check them out, but really to put some space between us and calm my thudding heart. “Well…good to know you aren’t wasting time with social pleasantries. See a girl you like, invite her home, then tell her to take off her clothes so you can get down to business. Very romantic.”

“Not big on romance when I finally got you where I want you. Take off your bra.” He takes a few steps toward me, and I retreat to the far end of the room. A warning niggle at the back of my mind suggests he’s doing what predators do, forcing me to retreat until I am trapped with no hope of escape.

Heart thudding against my ribs, I slip off my bra. My nipples peak under his heated gaze, and I scramble for a neutral topic of conversation when he takes another step toward me.

“Lots of interesting furniture here. Where’s it from?”

“China and Thailand, mostly.” He puts down his glass and strips off his shirt, baring his chest for my viewing pleasure. “Took a leave of absence after Lisa died and did some traveling. Lived with some monks in Thailand and learned about balance and harmony, finding peace when the world is fucked up and you’re messed up inside. Take off your skirt.”

“Do you have a better seduction technique when you’re not in your apartment?” I feign an exasperated sigh as I remove the offending article of clothing. “Something more subtle than ‘take off your shirt’ or ‘take off your skirt’?”

“Not for you, ’cause all I can think about is getting you naked. Take off your panties.”

Ray is standing on the threshold of the living room, blocking my only exit unless I want to crash through the glass doors I am now pressed up against and hurl myself off the patio. For a brief moment, I wonder if he wants to have sex against the glass, where everyone can see. Too bad I took off the skirt. Smushed ass is so not a good look.

“I see someone has no restraint.” My lips twitch, and I try to douse my inner fire with the combination of vodka and the cool glass door behind me. But it doesn’t work. Need burns through my veins. Tension electrifies the air between us.

“Oh, I got restraint.” He leans against one of the wooden support pillars, his gaze locked on me as I shimmy out of my panties. “I’m just choosing not to exercise it right now.”

“What happened to the whole peace and harmony thing?”

“I never said I was good at it.”

His deadpan statement makes me laugh and my tension eases. “Can I have more vodka?” I brave the distance between us, stopping when I am near enough to feel his heat.

Ray looks down at his empty glass and makes a move as if to head back to the kitchen, but before he can go, I place my hands on his shoulders and rock up to lick his lips. “Like this.”

My touch sets him off—the Predator unleashed. Heedless of the shot glass falling to the ground, he cups my face between his hands and kisses me so hard, so long, so deep that I fear he has forgotten I need to breathe.

“Bed?”

Releasing me, he smooths his hands down my back to cup my ass. “Gotta get you ready first.”

My lower half tightens. “Naked isn’t enough?”

His breath is warm and moist in my ear as he follows my curves up my body, his thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts. “Not even close.”

“The necklace?” I touch the amber pendant, now hanging between my breasts. “Should I take it off too?”

“Never.” He positions me at the edge of his beautiful, polished wood table facing into the room and eases me back until I am lying on the cool surface. The chandelier swings lazily overhead, the crystals tinkling with the slight tremors of the building. I cringe at the thought of marring the perfect surface of the table with my naked body, but when Ray presses up against me, the ridge of his erection beneath his jeans rough on my folds, I imagine other terrible things that could be done on the surface of the table, and my mouth waters.

“Knees bent. Legs apart. Feet at the edge of the table.” He stands in front of me, watching, as I follow his commands.

“Like this?”

He nods his satisfaction and eases himself between my legs. “Rules. First, that thing where your heart tries to beat out of your fucking chest and you can’t breathe—”

“Panic attack.”

Ray’s eyes narrow. “Not happening again.”

My lips quiver with repressed amusement. “I’ll let my sympathetic nervous system know.”

“Your heart starts pumping from anything other than the fact that you’re hot for me and wanting to come, you tell me right away.”

“Okay.”

He leans over me, placing one hand on either side of my shoulders, the bulge in his jeans a deliciously stimulating rub against my sex. “I find out you didn’t tell me right away, then I’ll throw you over my knee and spank the fucking daylight out of you.”

“Are you trying to turn me on?”

He slicks his finger through my folds, then holds it up for me to see it glisten. “Looks like I already did.”

“Beast.”

Ray grins. “Predator.”

He leaves me on the table and returns with a long, soft rope which he strings across the table and ties to the table legs behind me.

“Hands over your head. Spread ’em wide. Hold the rope.”

“Um…Ray…rope?”

His face softens. “Go with me on this. You’re not restrained, just holding on. You feel panicked, you let go. Any other reason—”

“And you’ll spank the daylight out of me?”

A slow, sensual smile spreads across his lips, and he leans down and presses his lips to my ear. “She gets it. I can hardly wait.”

He leaves me again, displayed on his table like a Christmas feast. When he returns, he has a bottle of Polar Ice vodka in one hand and a bowl of ice cubes in the other. It takes only a moment for my lust-sodden brain to clue in and a shiver runs down my spine. “You’re not…”

“Brace yourself. This is gonna be cold.” He plucks an ice cube from the bowl and places it in the hollow at the base of my throat. Almost immediately, little water drops trickle down the sides of my neck, a cool, erotic tickle that makes me shudder. Ray leans down to lick away the droplets, then sucks so hard on the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder that I gasp.

“Marked you.” He gives a satisfied growl and licks the wound. Predator indeed.

Leaving the ice trickling over my throat, he takes a second ice cube and runs it down my body, circling each of my breasts and then my nipples until they peak from the erotic slide of ice on my skin.

“Like you all wet and sexy.” Ray settles the ice cube in my belly button. Ice water trickles down my sides, sending me arching off the table.

“Down, beautiful girl. Need you to stay still. That is just the warm-up.” He places a warm hand over my hips and presses me back against the table.

“What do you mean, a warm-up?”

He takes a third ice cube from the bowl and rests it just above my pubic bone.

“Ray…I don’t think…”

“Shhhh. Let it happen.” When the first droplet slides its way over my mound, he follows it down, over my clit, and along my folds. Then he parts me wide and pushes the ice cube deep inside my pussy.

“Ahhhhh.” I arch off the table, terrified about getting freezer burn in my most intimate area, but the ice feels naughty and slippery inside me, sliding over my swollen tissue, and almost immediately water trickles along my inner thigh. “My hotness is too much for the ice cube.” I give him a smug smile.

Ray laughs and plucks another ice cube from the bowl. “Well then, we’d better try two.” He pushes another ice cube inside me and quickly follows it with a third. I gasp at dual sensations of being hot and cold, the obscene thickness inside me, the sensation that is at once pleasure and pain. Writhing on the table, I beg him to take them out. Ray lifts an admonishing eyebrow.

“They stay in until they melt. You let one go, and I replace it with three.” He teases my piercing with his finger and I whimper.

“Breathe through it.”

Tangling my hands in the rope above me, I take deep breaths as my sex throbs, whether from heat or cold, I no longer know. But when he kneels between my parted legs, spreading my thighs impossibly wide to lick his way up and around my clit, warmth spreads through my body and the burn of the ice cubes begins to fade.

“Better?”

When I nod, he stands and fills a shot glass with Polar Ice and then tips it over my breast.

“Ahhhhhhh!” A stream of freezing cold vodka splashes over my nipple, hardening it instantly. Ray bends down and draws my nipple into his mouth, warming it with his tongue. The combination of cold and heat sends my arousal skyrocketing, and I moan.

“It’s gonna get a lot worse than that.” Ray tips the glass over my other nipple and I brace myself between the rope and the table. “I’ve only just begun.”

He teases me for what seems like hours. No part of my body is safe from the trickle of freezing cold vodka and the rasp of his warm tongue. He laps the cold liquid from the pulse point at the base of my throat, licks his way down my sternum, laves every part of my breasts, and then fills the glass up again when he reaches my stomach.

“You’re gonna be so drunk, you won’t be able to perform.”

He raises an eyebrow as he drizzles cold vodka over my stomach, the cool liquid sending shivers through my body as it trickles down my sides. “I ever let you down?”

“Well…no.”

“’Course not.” He thrusts his finger into my sex and water from the melted ice cubes dribbles over my skin. “So wet. And I’m about to make you wetter.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” I look up at his handsome face, his eyes hooded, gleaming with the promise of a challenge.

“Oh, it is.” He drips the vodka over my clit, one freezing drop after another and my panting turns to moaning as my nerves try to decide whether the burning sensation spreading through my lower half is pleasure or pain.

“Don’t move.”

He strips off his clothes, then removes the gun and holster strapped to his leg and places them on the kitchen counter.

“Did I ever tell you I think it’s hot that you carry a gun?”

Ray frowns. “Guns aren’t hot. They are dangerous weapons. Not to be taken lightly.”

“Hot,” I whisper.

He laughs and drizzles vodka over my folds. “Well then, let’s cool you off.”

While I wiggle and squirm on the table, Ray disappears behind me, returning moments later, sheathed and fully erect, a tantalizing treat just out of reach.

“One last lick.” He bends down and licks his way along my slit, lapping up the vodka until he gets to my piercing. “This is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He waggles the little barbell with his tongue, and I groan and tug on the rope.

“But I like this better.” He draws my clit into his mouth, sending me into sensory overload. Cold. Hot. Wet. Warm. Sucking. Nipping. I hold on to the rope for dear life as tension coils deep in my belly.

With one last lick, Ray backs away and places his hands on my knees, spreading me wide. “Open for me, sweetheart. Show me how wet you are, how much you want me.”

Straining, I part my legs as far as they will go, clenching my belly at the feeling of being so totally exposed.

“Fucking beautiful.” He rubs his cock against my cleft. “Love seeing you restrained and open for me.”

“I’m not restrained. I’m just holding on.” But when I look up, my hands are impossibly tangled in the rope. My breath catches in my throat. He left all that slack for a reason. But before I can panic, Ray thrusts, pushing deep inside me.

“You’ve restrained yourself, beautiful girl. You’re in control.”

But I don’t have time to dwell. Ray glides his hands down my body, tweaking my nipples, then sweeping his palms in and out of my curves and over my abdomen. With a low groan, he cups my ass with his two hands and yanks me against him. “I’m gonna take you every way. Everything you ever imagined or secretly desired, I’m gonna give you. And then I’ll do things you never imagined. I’m gonna be everywhere inside you, so deep you won’t know where I end and you begin.”