Lady and the Champ (47 page)

Finally the other man laughs, and Cain relaxes. They separate and lurch to their feet, tapping fists. “Good practice,” Cain says.

“Yeah.” The other man shakes his head. “You always take it so serious.”

Cain offers him a twisted half smile. “Of course.”

Peeling off his gloves, the other man says, “You need me for anything else?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Cool.” The man leaves the ring, heading for the front door. He grabs a towel on the way out and mops his face with it. Cain ducks between the ropes, too, and when he straightens, he suddenly sees me.

“Hey,” he says. “Look who it is.”

My breath is suddenly caught in my throat, fluttering like a frightened bird. My heart beats hard; I can feel it there right next to my broken breathing. “Hey,” I manage, barely.

He starts to saunter toward me. His twisted smile lets me know he’s not going to give me any kind of a break. About anything. He’s probably mad still, after his talk with my father. I overheard part of it, lurking at the door like a teenager, just in case Cain said anything about me.

Cain’s not done taunting me. “Had to come back, huh? Itching for another taste?”

“I just…” I trail off. Why
am
I here? I’m not even sure myself, except that I just needed to get out of the house. Why I think I’d be any safer with Cain than at home is beyond me at the moment.

Crossing the rest of the distance between us, he stops a few steps away. His gaze rakes me, top to bottom, taking me in. It almost makes me feel dirty, but it’s arousing, too. He lifts his arms a bit away from his sides. “Take a look. This what you want? Want me to make you scream again?”

I can smell him now, the acrid stink of the sweat that’s dripping on his body. Why don’t I find it disgusting? I probably should. But I’ve gone so wet between my legs I feel like I might be melting. “I should go.”

I turn to do just that, but his hand grabs my arm and drags me back around, forcing me to look him in the face. “You know, I was wondering if you were going to say something to your dad this morning. Like, ‘Hey, leave my boy alone ’cause he fucked me so hard last night and now I don’t want you to hurt him.’ You tell him what we did last night?”

“No.” I layer scorn into my voice. It’s a stupid question, and he knows it.

“Too bad.” His hand eases off my arm, but his eyes hold me still. “I should have. That would have been a kick, huh? I wanted to. Wanted to tell him how his little girl screamed like a cat in heat. Begged me for it. How he might think he owns you, but now I’ve got part of you and I’m not letting it go.” He moves a little closer. I can’t drag my eyes away from his mouth. He has full, almost pillowy lips, incongruous in the harsh lines of the rest of his face. “What do you think he’d think about that, huh? How do you think he’d feel if I told him I own your cunt? That all you can do now is think about getting me back inside you?”

I should be hating this. He’s an asshole, throwing crude words like weapons. But something about the way he does it, the way his eyes hold mine, as if he’s daring me to say something about it, just revs my engines. I should want a nice guy, I guess. Somebody who’ll bring me flowers and breakfast in bed. But that’s not what I want at this exact moment. What I want is him. Hard and crude and filthy.

I reach up, grab the sweat-soaked hair at the back of his neck, and drag his face down to mine. Bite his lower lip—hard—then kiss him. I push up onto my toes, letting my silk blouse press against his sweaty chest and belly. It’ll be ruined, most likely, but I don’t care. My other hand goes around him, my small purse slapping him in the hip as I gouge my fingernails into the high arch of muscle next to his spine.

His hands close on my shoulders. His head leans down and his mouth pushes mine open, his tongue thrusting inside in a possessive stab. I shift a little because I’m having trouble breathing, and he follows my movement, kissing me hard and deep, like he owns me.

He does. No way in hell I’ll tell him that, but he does. And I’m not even sure why I feel that way.

Before I can decide what I’m doing, figure out why I’m throwing myself at this man, he bends and picks me up, carrying me toward the back part of the gym. Where are we going? I don’t even care.

He backs through a door, shoving it open behind him. I smell still more sweat, overlaid with disinfectant. It has to be the locker room. I don’t even bother opening my eyes. I’m too involved in his mouth, my tongue engaged in a duel with his that I know I won’t win. And after a few more steps he sets me on my feet. Grabs my blouse and pulls it open, pops the front of my bra.

I open my eyes. We’re in the showers.

“You want this stuff off before I turn on the water?” he asks me in a gritty voice that makes my toes curl.

“Yeah, probably.” Silk blouse, linen skirt—it’d probably be best not to ruin everything by taking an impromptu shower fully clothed. On the other hand, the thought of it is more than a little sexy. That he wants me so bad he can’t even bother to get the clothes off me. “And my purse…” What was I going to say to him about my purse? Oh, right. “There are condoms in my purse.”

He chuckles. “You came prepared.”

I did. Mostly because I almost always carry a condom with me, even though the occasions when I’ve used one have been fairly rare. I can’t help thinking that, somewhere in the back of my mind, I was hoping I’d run into Cain today, and that he’d be the reason I needed that rubber.

“Get it out,” he tells me.

I do, and toss the purse aside, out of the shower where it won’t get wet. He peels my clothes off me—blouse, bra, skirt—taking each item, and my skin tingles with the sensation of being undressed. The muscles in his arms seem to shiver, as if he’s holding himself back at every juncture. Like it’s all he can do not to just grab me, right there, and fuck me silly. It’s a heady feeling.

“Leave the shoes on,” he says after a minute. I look down. My shoes are bright red, strappy sandals with a heel—not too high, but enough to make my legs look good. Naked except for those shoes, I tilt a look up at him and smile.

“You like that, huh?”

He gives me a smirk in return. “Hell, yeah, I like that.”

He turns on the water.

I jump; somehow he’s managed to catch me off guard, even though I knew damn well he was going to do it. The water’s cold at first, then warmer, then hot, then he adjusts the knobs until it’s right on the verge of too warm. By this time, my hair’s wet all around my face, and he’s dripping from more than just sweat.

There’s a little shelf on the wall of the shower, a paper-wrapped bar of soap on it, just like the soaps you’d find in a motel. Cain grabs it and strips the paper wrapper off, leaving the condom on the shelf in its place. He draws a line down the center of my body with the dry soap bar, all the time grinning at me. “I think you could use a wash, dirty girl.”

Gently he pushes one of my shoulders back so the water runs down over my breasts. Then he turns the soap bar flat against my skin. Drags it across my chest, my breasts, down my stomach. Just the touch of him on my skin makes me catch my breath.

You should stop. This is such a bad idea.
But the thoughts, relevant as they are, fade quickly as Cain begins to claim every inch of my skin. His hands are slick with soap as he cups my ass, lifts me so my toes barely touch the tile. What’s he going to do? Can he pick me up, fuck me against the wall? Do I want him to?

Of course I do. It’s frightening, dangerous, and just the thought of him being able to pick me up like that, hold me safely with that casual strength, makes me shiver.

So it’s no surprise I damn near come when he actually does it.

The water’s falling hard all around us. I’ve gotten used to the warmth now, and it feels good. He braces my back against the tile and pushes his hips between my thighs, holding me there while his hands move under me, fingers finding my pussy. His cock is hard, hot against my belly. I grab at his shoulders, curl my fingers around the back of his neck to pull him in to kiss him. He seems to be okay with that, kissing me back hard, devouring me. I can taste blood in his mouth—a leftover from the earlier sparring, I’m sure. Why is that such a turn-on?

Honestly I can’t figure out anything about why this man draws me so powerfully. Why do I want him so much? It has to be more than just the promise of his body.

Promise… Safety. Escape. The thought drifts through my head before I can give it much consideration. I’ll think about it later. Right now the only thing I can concentrate on is getting Cain’s cock inside me. As fast as possible.

He seems to have other priorities. He’s kissing me, pulsing his hips between my thighs while his fingers probe into me. They move deep inside, teasing, then slide out to stroke me. He can’t quite reach my clit from this position, so I tip my own hips, trying to rub against his body.

“Hold still,” he says. “Just for a second.”

It’s all I can do to follow the order. I look him straight in the eye, holding myself still. I can feel the tile squares imprinting themselves on my back. Decoration to remember this by, though it’ll fade, of course.

“Lean forward, baby.”

I do it. I’m rewarded by a grunt from the back of his throat, and then the sudden sensation of his cock sliding inside me.

Holy shit.

I bite his shoulder hard and Cain’s chest shakes with laughter.

“Minx.”

I bite him harder. He grunts and shoves into me.

Goddamn. He’s huge. Big enough so that I bite my lip hard against the pain, but the moment he lets out that deep sound when he hits the back of my pussy, I forget all about pain. All of a sudden it hits me how dirty this is. I’ve never been fucked in a public shower before.
One of these days, Cain, you need to fuck me on a bed. Or a couch. Something normal.
I shove that thought back. I need to not be thinking about future sex sessions with this man. That leads nowhere good.

Freedom.
There’s that stray thought again. It shatters as Cain thrusts hard, claiming my body. It hurts, especially after last night, but God, it’s a good pain. I clutch his back so hard I swear I can feel my nails biting through his skin, but he just takes it and keeps fucking me. His cock throbs inside me as my wet back hits the wall, and he buries his mouth in my neck, his lips teasing my flesh. It’s as though every thrust of his hips hits the breath right out of my lungs.

“Why can’t you
admit
that you came here for my cock?”

“I—
oh
!”

I’m distracted by the swell of him inside me, his hot mouth on my neck, and every inch of me screaming for more of this man. He pauses, buried to the hilt.

“Cain, please!”

His grinning face pulls back, his dark hair plastered to his head from the water. It streaks down his face in rivulets, making his skin flush from the heat. For a moment my chest tightens. I always thought he was attractive, but he’s never quite stolen my breath like this.

“Did growing up a Spada make you too proud?”

His tone is slightly mocking, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

I bet the bastard does.

“Don’t stop!”

He nudges his hips a little and I let out a high gasp, blushing hard when he laughs.

“
I asked you a question
.”

Fine.

“I wanted more,” I burst out in a hoarse voice. “I wanted a good, hard fuck and I knew you’d give it to me.”

He thrusts hard before I finish my sentence, ending my last word in a yell. My back slams against the cold tiles, and then he ruts me deep. I feel his cock throb as he anchors inside me, letting out a grunt that sends an electrical shock up my spine. I look down and see his slick cock, pulsing in and out of me. Then he bends his head and takes one of my tits in his mouth, biting down hard. I can feel it when he comes, the heat pulsing inside me. I’m riding right on the edge, though, and there’s no way I’m going to make it over with him. I let out a sound, a sort of loud wail. I feel like weeping. But he clutches me hard to him, finishing, and then kisses my mouth.

Then he slides free of me and goes to his knees, easing me down the wall at the same time, until my feet touch the floor.

And I’m right over his face, and he’s got his tongue inside me, licking, thrusting, stroking over my needy clit. “Oh God,” I breathe. Water runs into my eyes and I squeeze them shut. Cain’s face pushes right up into my pussy, his nose rubbing my clit while his tongue goes inside me, then his tongue rubbing over my clit while a finger goes inside me, and suddenly I’m a white starburst of sensation, my body pounding in wave after wave of climax.

Holy shit.

It feels like an hour or so before the pulsations finally stop. When they do, I realize I haven’t stopped breathing, after all, and Cain is on his knees in front of me, holding me against him, one hand stroking my lower back while he presses his chin against my stomach. He’s looking up into my face with a look so smug my first inclination is to slap it off his face.

He laughs. “You hated that.”

“Yes. Every minute.”

Slowly he eases back then comes to his feet and pulls me against him. He holds me like that for a few seconds. Kisses me. This time it’s warm, not so hard and possessive. A tingle runs through me, and this time it’s not sexual arousal. It’s something else. Something I’m not sure what to do with.

Then Cain starts talking, and I remember why he’s a bad idea.

“You’re starving for cock, aren’t you?”

I try to push back from him, but he’s got me enveloped in those big arms. I’m wrapped in cords of muscle decorated in black, red, and green ink. And a little purple. Right there. There’s a lion’s face looking back at me from the curve of his pec.

“I’ve never seen a girl throw herself into it like you do.”

I make myself look into his eyes. Does he mean that? I have no idea what to say.

He strokes a strand of wet hair back from my face then reaches behind us and turns off the water. It’s starting to cool down, though it’s still far from cold.

“You’re going to want this again,” he mutters in my ear. “Again and again. You’re going to come to me after my next fight, Jess. And if you don’t, I’ll come find you.”