Savage: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance (7 page)

“
M
otherfucker
,” I growl, holding my side.

It feels like I’m keeping my intestines in there with sheer force of will at this point, though I know that isn’t true. I’m just not used to being the one who gets hurt.

I step into my room and the door closes behind me. Number ninety-seven didn’t come easy.

The tournament is heating up. Number ninety-seven didn’t want to go down as easy as I thought he would. This time, it became very clear that we were done playing fair and the bosses wanted some blood. They accomplished that by tossing a shank in the ring in the middle of the fight and seeing which one of us wanted it more.

Beau, the guy I was fighting, got to it first and he made me feel it.

There’s a large rip along my left oblique where he thrust the sharp blade in and twisted down. I think it got stuck on my hip bone and that’s why I didn’t get gutted from tip to taint right there. I turned away from Beau and yanked it out of my side, spraying blood everywhere.

You can imagine that the crowd went absolutely nuts for that shit. Savages. I’m supposed to be the monster here and yet sometimes, I really feel like a god damn angel in there, compared to the scum that gathers to cheer and holler while grown men get killed in a cage.

I couldn’t let Beau get away from it. I don’t know what the rules are for the other mobs in the area, the other ‘gladiator owners’ as they sometimes like to refer to themselves, but in Wilson’s stable, whoever loses gets to hand in their life along with their knuckle tape.

So I shoved the shank in Beau’s eye and twisted the same way he had when trying to kill me. I had to do it, it was me or him and I wasn’t about to go down. Especially not with Adrienne looking down at me from the podium-like balcony she was seated on, her pretty blue eyes shimmering with tears of fear for me.

God, she’s sweet.

I frown to myself, glancing at the door in an effort to forget about my wound. I got stitched up right after the match, crude black marks running up my side and blood still slightly seeping through the bandaging, but that was a while ago.

She should be here already,
I think.

I won her fair and square. Even if I’m not in any real shape to fuck her tonight, I still want to see her. Our letters have started getting longer, our handwriting smaller, and I’m dying to talk to her in person.

That’s how deep I’m in. I don’t want her pussy – well I do, but not only – I want her heart. Her mind.
And
her body.

I lick my lips, glancing up in my room. The bucket of ice water isn’t in the corner I expect it to be in either. Things are getting odder by the second. When I catch a glimpse of a folded up piece of paper on my bed, my stomach lurches.

Shit.

Hannah would never leave it out in the open like that. She knows the fighters’ rooms get tossed every now and then and we’re careful about this stuff. All the notes have been hand-delivered so far and I don’t think there’s any reason for this one to be any different.

I walk to the bed and jiggle the loose brick above my bed. It budges after a while, spewing a bit of dust along with it that lands on my pillow and I automatically wipe it away, like I always do. I breathe easier when I see the rest of Adrienne’s notes neatly stacked in the small space, safe and sound.

Shoving the brick back, I sink onto the bed and take the note on the covers, frowning. It’s definitely from Adrienne, I can smell her scent on it. Honey. Hint of lavender. Maybe a tiny bit of vanilla.

Fucking intoxicating.

I unfold it and before I get past the first word, my name, I hear footsteps. I scramble to put the note away but I don’t have time to move the brick, so I shove it under my pillow and stand up, wearing a frown. There are too many steps resonating in the hall, and none of them the soft ones of Adrienne that I remember from the last time she was here.

Something’s going to go to shit and I can smell it in the air.

The locks are undone and Sage looks at me like he always does, but there’s a warning in his eyes this time. I slick my tongue over my teeth, feeling my hands clench up as Wilson Cobb strolls into my room as if he owns the place.

I guess he does.

Anyway.

He has one of his big, beefy goons with him. I think the man’s name is Tommy or something vaguely juvenile like that. I never did understand what it was with grown men having kids’ nicknames.

Angel springs to mind, as an example.

But there’s someone with Tommy and Wilson that makes me get a hell of a lot more serious.

Hannah.

She looks fucking terrified and like she’s been crying. Tommy keeps a hand on her shoulder and the four of them pile into my already cramped room, making me take a step back. Wilson wears a welcoming smile, looking positively excited to be there. That can’t be good.

“Good fight today, Angel,” he says, beaming. “You didn’t leave any question of who was the bigger man in that cage. You made me some good money today.”

It almost sounds like praise and that only makes me tense up worse. Nothing good has ever come from this man and I doubt it’s going to change now. But I bite my tongue and don’t say a word wrong, partially because the look on Sage’s face tells me that I’d regret it if I did.

“Thank you,” I press out.

“That’s a good boy,” Wilson nods, slowly making his way through the room, studying the details with evident curiosity.

I’ve never seen him down here, and certainly not in any fighters’ rooms. It sort of feels like someone let the devil in and I don’t fucking like it.

He studies the space like he’s never seen it before, like it’s honestly interesting for him. I bristle at it but I stand there, my side throbbing, and Hannah quietly sobbing into her hands. She seems to be cradling her good hand, the one that has all the fingers intact, and the stump of her pinkie makes my stomach churn.

I keep waiting for the punch and when it comes, it still knocks me out.

“Did you enjoy your letter?” Wilson asks suddenly, stopping mid-stride and looking up at me. “It was so sweet. Adrienne really has a way with words, doesn’t she?”

My eyes widen and I have to physically clamp my mouth shut.

Adrienne.

If he’s hurt her, there’s not a force in the world strong enough to keep me from murdering him right here and now. I’ll take both Sage and Tommy on, I don’t fucking care.

“Cat got your tongue?” Wilson asks, waggling his brows.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I begin, inciting a heavy sob from Hannah with that.

“You do, though, don’t you, Angel? Don’t lie to me. I thought we were all friends here, that we got along. So imagine my surprise when I find out that two of my loyal servants have been running around behind my back, hmm? I don’t like that.”

Wilson’s voice drops a couple of octaves and cold fury rages through me. I look at Hannah and she’s on the verge of hysteria, pressing her hands together.

“I thought I’d given you everything, Angel,” Wilson continues, using the name that he knows I dislike.

“Even my sweet thing’s pussy. I needed someone to work her in for me. She has to be ready when a real cock comes to take her, you know? So hard to find good help these days.”

Every word out of Wilson’s mouth makes me breathe heavier, makes the anger swell inside of me. The throb of heat and pain from my wound seems to consume all of me, becoming one constant beat of rage instead of pain.

“It’s not Hannah’s fault,” I say, looking at her again so she’d understand that I really mean it. “If you want to punish someone, punish me. Not her, or Adrienne.”

“Mm, I don’t think so,” Wilson says, pointing a finger up at the ceiling and then moving it side to side, smiling like a fox. “I think you need to learn from your mistakes, Angel. And what better way to do that than to show you what happens to sneaky little bitches who go behind my back, ferrying information and pills and whatever the fuck else.”

Hannah yelps and Tommy’s grip tightens on her. I move to get his hand off of her, but Sage clears his voice a split-second before I move, reminding me that I can only make this worse by overreacting. I grit my teeth and hold my ground.

“Hannah, my dear. I thought you learned from the last time we had this conversation that you’re not supposed to disappoint me. So why do you insist on being such a worthless little bitch?” Wilson asks, turning to face her, his tone perfectly conversational.

“Sir, please,” she begs, biting her lower lip. “I swear, I’ll be good. I’m so sorry! Miss Adrienne was just so sad, I felt so bad for her! Please forgive me, I promise I will never do it again!”

Fuck. Every word she speaks bites right through me. I don’t know how Cobb found out, but it doesn’t matter at this point. It’s my fault that Hannah’s been put into this situation and I can only imagine that Adrienne isn’t faring much better.

I fucked up. I should have known better.

“Tommy,” Wilson says, ignoring Hannah’s pleas completely.

“No!” Hannah screams as Tommy grips her hands now and pulls them apart.

She’s screaming and trying to pull her right hand out of Tommy’s iron grip and I feel like I’m watching a fucking execution when Wilson casually pulls out a pair of box cutters from his suit jacket pocket. He clicks them together a few times, the blades chomping on top of one another with the sickening slice of well-kept sharp edges, and Hannah’s scream is blood-curdling this time.

“You did this, Angel,” Wilson says, looking at me as he crosses over to her, stopping right in front of her. “This is on you.”

With careless ease, Wilson grabs her one remaining pinkie finger, makes her hold it straight and then cuts down on it with the box cutters. The crack of bone and cartilage is so sickening that I can hear it distinctly over Hannah’s screaming. The discarded digit falls on the floor, leaving a tiny little pool of blood.

Wilson lets go of Hannah, who is hyperventilating and staring at her hand. This is not the first time. She lost the first finger three years ago, trying to help another fighter. And now, I’ve made her go through it again.

I’m the scum of the fucking earth and the only fucking asshole lower than I am is Wilson Cobb.

I feel the world vibrate around me as if in tune with my fury as my stormy grey gaze meets Wilson’s mocking blue eyes.

“There will be no more notes, Angel. Unless you want her to lose more than a finger.”

I strain a nod and Sage finally steps away from in front of the door. His face is a hard mask, betraying no emotions. Hannah has collapsed on the floor, staring at the stump of her finger, and Tommy drags her up by her arm. She’s shoved out of the room first and the rest of the twisted entourage piles out after her.

The only thing they leave behind is her cut off finger, lying in the middle of my cell floor.

Number ninety-seven suddenly doesn’t taste so sweet anymore.

I
’ve never been
as anxious as I am today, waiting to be taken to Memphis. My fingers shake as I apply a drop of perfume to my wrist, tying my dress in place. My hair is left long and wavy, just the way he likes it – he told me in one of the letters – and I know my eyes are sparkling with desire, my pupils dilated.

A guard comes to get me and slowly, we make our way underground. I’m glad it isn’t Tommy this time, he creeps me out. I’m so nervous I nearly trip over my own feet and fall several times, but in the end, I manage to make in downstairs in one piece.

I’ve felt so alone. I kept waiting for Hannah to come and talk to me, bring me a note, but I haven’t seen her in days. Not since I gave her my last letter, not since Memphis got hurt during the last fight.

But I don’t have time to think about that right now.

As soon as Memphis’ cell comes into focus, my heart surges. I’ve been so very desperate to see him. So anxious to have my hands on his strong, firm chest once again. I see bars as I pass by some of the cells, but his has actual walls. I guess he earned that with his wins.

The guard unlocks the cell and shoves me inside, where Memphis catches me in his strong arms.

“Enjoy your treat,” the guard snarls at Memphis, and I’m wrapped up in his arms.

We wait like that, with my heart pounding, as the guard locks the door and leaves the dungeons, his steps growing distant. Memphis’ hands are gently but firmly pressing against my skin, and my body is burning up with the desire to be touched in a thousand more places.

I finally look up into his eyes, my whole body shaking as I do so.

“Hey,” I manage to get out.

These first moments together are always so awkward. It feels like I’ve gotten to know Memphis pretty well over the past weeks, having written all those letters to him. But when we’re together, everything’s still so new and different, I often don’t know how to act around him. I’m tongue-tied and acting weird and I wish I wasn’t.

“Hello, sugar,” he tells me in that deep voice of his. “Been waiting way too long for you…”

His fingers trail a line down my back and I shiver. It’s cold in the dungeons, and his touch makes goose bumps erupt all over my body. I need so much more.

I make my eyes stay on Memphis, even though the tension between us is so strong I’m almost scared to look up at him. His eyes are darker than usual today, and while I can tell he’s happy to see me by the way he holds my body in his arms, I’m not sure whether there’s anything else going on that’s bothering him.

“Are you alright?” I ask him with concern plain in my voice. “Did something happen?”

He lets go of me and I feel the loss of his skin against mine like a cold breeze sweeping over my body. I shiver, nervous, needing him closer again.

Memphis paces the width of the cell, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“I fucked up,” he tells me.

“What do you mean?” I furrow my brows, waiting for him to elaborate.

He turns away from me, the muscles in his back ripple as he does so, and I can’t quite bring myself to look away.

“It’s Hannah,” he finally says. “She got caught delivering one of our letters.”

“W-what?” I stutter over my question, my hands shaking. “Is that why I haven’t been seeing her, because she got transferred?”

“She didn’t just get fucking transferred,” Memphis spits out, his right hand rolling into a tight, shaking fist.

I can see how white his knuckles are getting, and I briefly wonder what would happen if he used all that strength against Cobb. I’ve seen what he can do but there’s a part of me that’s curious what he’d be capable of against the man we both seem to hate with equal fervor.

“Did she g-get hurt?” I stutter, hoping against hope that she didn’t.

Memphis finally turns to face me, his eyes full of pain.

“Yeah,” he says simply. “Cobb made me watch.”

My blood freezes in my veins and I feel sick to my stomach. Without fully knowing what I’m trying to do, I leap up and make a dash for Memphis, but he meets me halfway, our bodies crashing together. His strong hands go down my back, past the small of my back and down to my ass. He grips, his touch strong and unrelenting, and I gasp against his skin.

“Memphis…” I mutter.

“We can’t let it happen again,” he murmurs against my hair, his fingers digging into my flesh.

I feel heat taking over my body, swallowing me up in waves of red hot passion. God, I need so much more. I need him closer. Deeper.

I feel horrible about Hannah. But being in Memphis’ arms makes everything bad sort of float away from me despite it.

“We can’t let someone else get hurt because of us,” he tells me, and I nod slowly. “We need to be more careful. No more letters.”

“No more letters,” I confirm with a small nod.

Those letters were the one thing I looked forward to, the one thing that made my monotonous days better. But he’s right.

The sliver of disappointment is forgotten as soon as Memphis’ hand wanders under my skirt, hooking into my panties.

I gasp, unable to so much as breathe as his finger moves lazily between my folds.

“Let’s make the best of what we have, sugar,” he tells me in a low growl, and I quickly follow up with a nod. “We’ll need to take advantage of the time we get together.”

“Yes,” I agree breathlessly, barely able to breathe through the passion that is threatening to consume me. “Whatever you say… Just… Don’t stop touching me.”

I know how good he can make me feel and I can’t stop myself from wanting more of it.

“You like that?”

He chuckles deep in his throat, his fingers leaving my center as I gasp in protest. He finds my wrists with one hand, his free one wrapping around my waist and pulling me into his lap. I whimper my consent as he walks me over to the wall and presses my back gently against it, raising my wrists above my head.

“Keep them there,” he growls at me before letting go, and I’m too afraid not to obey.

I don’t want him to stop.

I nod slowly as he props me up on one knee, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He lets go, and I’m holding on to his body with my own strength.

“See?” he tells me, grinning. “You can be strong when you want to.”

I smile, right before his mouth crashes down against mine. He kisses me long and hard, delicious strokes of his tongue against mine making my whole body tingle with anticipation.

“Fuck, Adrienne,” he says softly against my lips. “You taste so damn sweet…”

I moan into his mouth, and for the first time, I realize how much this man means to me. I thought he was just something I was using to distract myself from the bullshit I’ve gotten wrapped up in, but it’s so much more than that.

I care about him. By now, I’m certain I’d do anything for him. He makes me lose my head in the best way possible.

I press my hips against his needily, moaning to signal I want him closer. He moves my legs up and unbuckles his worn jeans. I didn’t even notice when I walked in – I think this is the first time I’ve seen him in anything other than shorts. The sound of the buckle hitting the floor with a clank makes me lose my mind, and I grind against him harder than ever before.

“I need you,” I tell him desperately. “I need you inside me.”

He groans, pulling down his boxers and kicking both items of clothing aside. His strong hands are all over me, exploring every inch of my body. He wants me closer, too.

I’m lifted from his body by his strong arms, placing me on the floor, and I whimper when my body has to leave his. It’s only for a short while though, and I gasp his name when he pulls my dress off over my head. I’m not wearing a bra, and I cover my boobs self-consciously when I feel his hungry gaze on them.

But Memphis isn’t having any of it.

Gently, he untangles my arms and they drop to the sides of my body as his eyes explore my skin. My nipples harden into hard buds under his watchful gaze, and I feel my pussy getting wet for him, as if my body knows what’s going to happen even before I do.

“Lie on your back on the bed,” Memphis tells me.

I do as he commands, feeling vulnerable as ever as I lie down, my hair spreading on the pillow. I feel him standing over me, his eyes drinking me in, one strong arm pumping his enormous cock as he groans at the sight of me.

Fucking hell, I can’t stand him not touching me.

I arch my back, a small moan escaping my lips, so damn desperate to have his lips on mine, his cock inside me.

“Please, Memphis,” I beg him in a small voice. “I can’t... I can’t.”

He gives in and I practically squeal with relief as he climbs on top of me, his body covering mine completely. Yet we’re still not close enough, not even with every inch of our skin touching.

I moan, pressing my hips against his, grinding on him.

“I need you closer,” he grunts. “I’m going to fill you.”

“Yes… please.” My words are barely above a whisper.

His hands go behind my back, cupping my ass and lifting my body so it melts into his. His lips are on mine next, claiming every bit of my mouth as his. Our tongues race together, trying to taste as much of the other person as humanly possible. Memphis’ cock is pressing against my center, and I whimper when I feel him throb.

“I need to fuck you,” he tells me, his voice strained. “I need to be inside of you.”

I nod feverishly, begging him to do just that. He gets on his knees and spreads my legs on either side of the bed, looking down at my pussy. I feel self-conscious as hell, his gaze drinking me in. But I don’t make a move. I let him growl and devour my naked pussy as he grips that hard, thick cock, rubbing a drop of precum from his head down his shaft.

“Memphis…” I start to say softly, biting my lower lip when he looks up at me.

The effect this man has on me is insane. Whatever he wants, I’m his.

“I need to tell you something first,” I finally squeak, and his glazed-over eyes finally tear themselves away from my tits and go up to my eyes.

“What is it, sugar?”

His voice is a low caress, and it feels rough but soothing. His hands explore my body, gliding over my hip bones and stopping on my inner thighs, making me gasp out loud.

“I…” I start to say, my voice breaking off and turning into a low moan when he presses a finger to my pussy. “I’m a virgin…”

He doesn’t let go of me, which I figured would be his initial reaction. Instead, he growls at me, getting on top of me and placing the tip of his cock at my entrance. My whole world is spinning right now, my eyes glazed over as I wait for him to plunge inside me. There’s a dangerous smirk on his lips and I love it.

“I know, sugar. But I can’t be gentle,” he tells me in that low, hoarse voice I love so much. “I don’t know how. That last time was as fucking sweet as I get.”

“It’s… okay,” I breathe, pulling him to my mouth. “Just do it now, Angel.”

He grunts, and moves his hips a little, his cock pressing against my slit. He’s not inside yet, but I’m already moaning, needing more.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he tells me. “It’s going to hurt, but I’ll make it feel good. I need to be your first, sugar. Your first and your last.”

With those words, he plunges inside me and I let out a shocked moan when I feel him ripping something apart inside of me. My body still moves though, and my walls expand and make room for him.

“Jesus,” Memphis grunts. “Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

I can’t even reply. I’m too overwhelmed by this completely new sensation, having him inside me, my pussy expanding and constricting at the same time, like it’s getting ready to swallow his cock.

I throw my head back in ecstasy and pain combined, my eyes going to his and silently begging for so much more. He was right. I fucking love it.

He waits in his position for a while, letting me adjust to his generous size. Only after my breath slows down, he starts thrusting inside me. It’s not gentle, just like I knew it wouldn’t be. His strokes are powerful and demanding, but he takes his time and he goes slow, taking mercy on my body.

What shocks me is that I want, I
need
him to go faster. I need to feel him filling me up completely.

“Please, Memphis,” I beg with my mouth running dry. “Go faster… I want more, I need you.”

He growls my name as his hands leave my ass and go up to my face, cupping my cheeks. His eyes are focused on mine, the thrusts of his hips the only thing keeping us joined together. I start moaning, slow at first, but louder and faster with every push of his strong hips.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Memphis orders me, his fingers pulling on my hair slightly. “Tell me who you belong to, sugar.”

I let out a small gasp as he goes past another breaking point. He’s rammed so deep inside me I don’t know how he’ll ever get out. And I don’t know whether I’ll ever let him leave me. My pussy needs him as badly as the rest of my body does.

“Say it, Adrienne,” he growls when I don’t respond, too lost in our bodies becoming one.

“I’m yours,” I gasp, my voice a barely-there whisper. “I’m all yours, Memphis.”

“Fucking louder,” he orders, his thrusts getting faster.

I feel his dick throb inside me and it nearly sends me over the edge. Something’s building inside me, a feeling I’ve only felt once with him before. It’s going to happen again - the pure pleasure, the blinding feeling of being joined with him is going to wash all over my body.

I can’t wait.

“I’m yours, Angel!” I shriek, my body going rigid as I feel the orgasm wash over me.

I’m still, moaning softly as it happens, and finally, when I feel all my senses pick up, every sensation heightened, I let out a low shriek, feeling him throb for me inside my pussy.

I feel everything in that moment.

The roughness of the sheets we’re lying on.

The pure strength and agility of his body, pressing himself into me.

The intensity of his eyes, locked on mine and confirming what I already know.

I am his.

Now, and forever.

“Say my name right the fuck now, Adrienne.”

“Memphis,” I moan, forcing myself to keep my eyes open and looking into his.