Savage: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance (3 page)

* * *

I
come to
, cradled in someone’s arms. The fact that they don’t instantly make me feel disgusted makes me think they don’t belong to Cobb, and as I slowly reclaim my senses, I look up through blurry eyes. Once again, my gaze connects with the stormy grey-blues I’ve come to know in the past hour or so.

“Angel,” I murmur. “You’re Angel.”

He scowls at me and I close my eyes, too tired to understand what’s going on. I hear voices following us, and Angel is carrying me somewhere - I hope somewhere far away from Cobb. Of course, that fantasy dies a quick death when I hear Cobb’s voice joining in with the others.

“Put her down on the bed in her room,” he barks. “She’ll come to any moment now. I don’t want you fucking around here when she comes back.”

Angel grunts something in response, and I hear doors opening, after which I’m set down on a soft, downy surface. I open my eyes only a little, stealing one last look at the shirtless man who carried me up here. He looks like a monster come to life, but there is a kindness to him that makes me want to dig through the layers of filth and anger to discover his true self.

He smells like blood and sweat and something so incredibly masculine that I can’t help but drink it in.

“Thank you,” I mutter sleepily.

He only stares at me for a moment before retreating from my room. The cloying presence in the air suggests I’m not alone, and I open my hazy eyes to find Cobb standing at the foot of my bed.

“Rest well,” he tells me with his signature smirk. “Enjoy your days of freedom. There won’t be many of those in your future.”

I
can’t get
her out of my head.

The whole way back to my room, I’m deep in thought, trying to memorize every little bit about that girl. Adrienne. Even her name is fucking gorgeous.

I haven’t seen anything, anyone, like her since I came down here. I’ve had someone like her in my arms even less. Since I gave my life to Wilson, I have sort of been convinced that there’s no place for beauty in this world. And yet there she was, standing like a goddess in the middle of darkness, lighting up the whole place.

“Memphis,” Sage calls, making me screech to a halt.

I almost walked past my room.

He gives me a look and I shrug my shoulders.

“Must be the fight,” I say nonchalantly, offering him one of my trademark smirks.

“Sure. It’s not like you came in here with everything alright in that thick head of yours,” Sage mutters in response, already unlocking the locks.

As soon as he throws the door open, Sabrina comes flying out like a torpedo, clinging to me. She practically climbs me, fluttering butterfly kisses on my neck and shoulders because that’s as high as she can reach, even teetering on her hooker heels.

She’s dressed in one of those tiny little skirts that leaves nothing to the imagination – though she has great legs, I’ll give her that – and a tank top that and a push-up bra that shoves her tits way out ahead of her.

Usually, I’m all for that kind of stuff. But today? Hell, I suddenly feel like I’m getting kissed by a hooker… Which, again, never
usually
bothers me.

Compared to having had Adrienne in my arms just a few minutes ago, Sabrina feels dirty in a way, and I for touching her.

Gently, I peel her off of me, putting my hands on her shoulders and then turning her to face away from me. She giggles like the ditz that she is.

“I thought you’d never come back,” she says, sighing wistfully as she does so. “I missed you so much! But I’m all ready for you, if you know what I mean…”

The smell of wet pussy hits me right in the nose and for the tiniest moment, I regret what I’m about to do.

I push her towards Sage and step into my room without taking a look back. As I slam the door shut behind me, I hear Sabrina gasping, obviously hurt.

“Not today,” I yell through the door.

Sabrina launches into a volley of questions, her voice getting higher with each syllable. Good thing I can barely make out what she’s saying. The locks on my door clatter shut a second later to my great relief and then footsteps move further, Sabrina still arguing and whining.

I sit down on the edge of my bed, almost feeling like I’ve come full circle.

I scuff my hand through my hair before I lean back again, visions of sweet little Adrienne dancing in my mind. And not only her, but what Wilson told us as well. I’ve been here for a long enough time to know how things run, but tournaments are a rarity even for me.

I’ve fought in a few, winning the ones I was entered in – being undefeated comes with certain boons, after all, like not being dead – but they’ve never been of this size. The way Wilson’s eyes hovered on me for most of his speech tells me that he knows what I know – I’m four wins away from being set free, according to our contract. If I win this tournament, I’m done.

Alternatively, if I lose, I’m dead.

I’m getting out one way or another.

But now, I could have Adrienne too.

I don’t know what it is about her that caught me so hard. Maybe it’s the sweet face, or the way she glanced around like a lamb being led to slaughter. She obviously doesn’t believe in this kind of existence and unlike the Sabrinas in the world, she would never be behind my door, begging to suck my cock because I’m a big man in the ring.

No, earning the trust and the heart of a woman like that… well, that’s something I don’t think I’m built for. There’s not a kind, good bone in my body, despite my ridiculous nickname.

I’m no angel.

I close my eyes and her face and heavenly body come back to me immediately, how she felt so soft and delicate against my chest as I carried here. Those delicious curves, those perky, young breasts… those lips.

Slowly, as if not thinking about it at all, I glide my right hand down my abs and under the band of my compression shorts, shucking them off as I lift my hips slightly. My palm slides along the shaft of my cock, already getting hard in my palm. My fingers are rough as I close my grip around my cock, my fingertips crossing only slightly.

That’s why Sabrina likes me so much. She can barely get past the head before she’s gagging and drooling, her eyes rolling back in her head.

But this time, I’m not thinking about Sabrina, or any of those other sluts. No, I’m thinking about Adrienne, how it would feel to claim someone so pure and good.

I can imagine her tongue licking up the sides of my shaft, hesitantly at first, slowly moving up to taste me. When her tongue laps over the head in my imagination, tracing the slit, I let out a low groan, starting to move my hand up and down faster, gripping myself hard. I can see the little gasp of surprise so clearly when she tastes precum for the first time, the salty taste spreading on her tongue, making her want more.

I swirl my thumb over my head, flicking over the sensitive skin a few times, and then jerk myself hard and fast. In my imagination, Adrienne’s on her knees, one hand between her legs, playing with that sweet pussy, while looking up at me with those bright eyes of hers. Wanting to please me, to serve me, to do anything I want her to do…

Her head bobbing up and down on my cock, coating it with saliva, matches the rhythm of my hand perfectly, and I let out a strangled moan as I imagine her whimpering as I slam into the back of her throat, filling her up. She shudders and I do too, wanting nothing more than to empty my seed into her thankful mouth.

When I cum, I let out a growl, a deep, rumbling sound from the back of my throat. It takes me a few minutes to come out of the intoxicating mental image of Adrienne lapping my seed up, swallowing it like the sweet little thing that she is. I’d put her on her back then and eat her out like she deserves after that.

And I’d do a hell of a lot more than that for her, too.

Finally, I open my eyes, finding myself in the grey, depressing pit of a room again, with no Adrienne to lift up and cuddle up in my arms, but jizz drying on my hand and thigh.

I could have had Sabrina here, cleaning me up and begging for more. And yet, for some reason, I can’t stop grinning, thinking about the vision that has been allowed into the darkness of my life to bring some light and warmth into it.

I’ll win you, Adrienne. I promise you that.

* * *

T
he next days
go by fast. We have practice matches every day, a mini-tournament of our own to decide who will be representing Wilson in this bullshit competition. Despite my injuries, I win easy enough. I don’t know if it’s the lack of general desire to be killed by the brutes that the other mob bosses are sure to bring in, or if I’m just that good, but it feels like walking through a damn field of daisies.

All of my opponents go down fast and hard, dropping like flies. I come out of the whole thing with one tooth slightly looser than it should be, and a couple of new bruises, but nothing to really worry me past that.

Through it all, I have Adrienne on my mind. I can’t shake her. Her scared, hurt face comes to me every time I fight, and every time I walk out of the ring victorious. It feels like I have something to fight for, for the first time in a long time, and it feels fucking good.

Just the thought of allowing anyone else to have her sends me into a blind rage, which admittedly has come in damn handy during the matches.

I hear a knock on my door after returning from the last match. I frown, but then my expression clears as the locks are undone and Sage lets in Hannah, who looks as apologetic as ever as she carries in the bucket of ice water I hadn’t even noticed was missing.

“So sorry, Memphis,” she mumbles, setting it down as Sage locks the door again.

“You really did a number on Jorge. It took a bit longer with him,” she explains.

She keeps her voice low, knowing how well sound travels in the cells. I can’t help but give her a smile. She’s been with Wilson for longer than I have, and she’s the one consistent feminine presence in my life so far that I haven’t had to hurt or violate in some way or another.

In her own mousy way, I know she’s tried her best to make sure that all the fighters are as well-off as they can be, sometimes sneaking them painkillers and medications when Wilson won’t allow anything. Though there’s a very strict ‘losers get to die’ rule around here, then we still have practice matches that don’t count towards our total and those can mess a guy up just as bad.

Wilson has this real tough love approach to his fighters. You get hurt? You get over it, stop being a pussy. Apparently in his mind, raging infections and possible sepsis are something that can be dealt with using a bit of good old fashion conviction and manning up. Of course, it’s not like I don’t know that the man is insane. At a certain level of sadistic tendencies and immense income, I guess that can happen to anyone.

And hell, aren’t I the one who enjoys beating other people into bloody piles of flesh and bone? Not like I can judge. Not too much, anyway.

“He’ll be fine,” I say, shrugging my shoulders as I undo my knuckles again. “Everything okay with you? Haven’t been seeing you down here lately.”

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” she says with a light smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

I narrow my blues slightly, looking at her. She doesn’t
look
fine. But you’re not supposed to pry too much around here, lest you learn something you shouldn’t have. It’s hard enough living in constant darkness without shouldering the burdens of others as well. And lord knows I have enough bullshit of my own to deal with.

“What is it?” I ask, taking a step towards her. “Has someone been trying to touch you again?”

There used to be a guy, Slammer, who kept thinking that he was entitled to any piece of ass that walked by him. That meant that he made a few passes at Hannah when she came to bring us supplies. After she confessed it to me at one point, I took great joy in making sure that Slammer wasn’t going to be grabbing for anyone for the rest of his life.

Hard to take advantage of a woman with all his fingers broken and his balls shoved back into his stomach cavity.

“No, nothing like that,” she says quickly, looking horrified at the thought.

I relax a little, nodding as I dunk my hands into the water again and then proceed to rub myself down. I catch her watching me do it, her eyes tracing the path of my hands shyly. I don’t call her out for it.

“What then?” I pry on, somewhat curious at the fact that Sage is leaving her in for so long.

Maybe he thinks I need to handle some orders for pain killers after all those fights in the last couple of days. I guess he’s not that bad of a guy, all things considered.

I won’t lie, I am feeling slightly more worn down at this point than I probably should, but nothing I can’t handle. I don’t need Hannah’s pill stash quite yet.

“It’s… It’s Adrienne,” she confesses, and I immediately stand up straighter, my expression getting hard as I look at her.

“Tell me everything,” I say sternly, surprising her and even myself with how demanding my tone is.

Shit, that girl is really getting to you.

I shake the thought away, giving Hannah a look that allows for no disagreements.

“Well, I just can’t help feeling horrible for her,” Hannah says after a small pause, used to gather herself. “She’s been through so much, the poor thing, and now this? Being offered up as a prize in a tournament… It’s so unfair to her.”

Hannah gnaws on her lower lip, a nervous twitch I’ve seen on her before. I cross the distance between us and pull her against my chest without comment, wrapping my arms around her small frame. She hiccups with tears that seem to well in her eyes immediately, her hands going around my waist.

I’m sweaty and disgusting and probably still bloody in places from the last guy I beat, but she doesn’t seem to mind and I won’t say anything about it if she won’t.

“Come on, it’s okay,” I tell her. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Really?” Hannah asks, looking up at me with those big eyes with her, glimmering with tears.

“Really,” I tell her, feeling the conviction rise in me to a fever point.

I brush a lock of brown hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. She closes her eyes when I do it, a couple of tears streaming down her cheeks in the process. I wipe those away too as I gently guide her to sit on my bed, taking a seat next to her.

“Come on now, honey, tell me all you know,” I urge her.

“Well… she’s… Her father died. Wilson had him killed,” she starts, and already I feel the cold dread of memories long repressed welling up in me. “And then Wilson brought both her and her mother here, basically holding them captive.”

“So not only has she lost her dad now but she’s being used as a toy to make men fight and kill one another, while all she wants to do is mourn her father and live her life. I feel so bad for her, I just can’t… She cries all the time and I feel so useless,” she sobs, each word filling me with dread.