Three Hot Wishes (Fantasy Come to Life - Magic in the Real World Novel) (28 page)

Sloane

I ran my gaze down the length of his body, taking in his muscles, the cuts and bruises. I'd almost forgotten about them in my haste, but if I'd hurt him accidentally, Angel hadn't complained.

He was inside of me. I was above him, letting the weight of my body bring my pussy down around his thick cock, but the tip of him was already making me tremble. It had been a long, long time since I'd been able to be like this with a man, and I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy it.

Money, job, the future. All of that could wait.

Right now, I just braced my palms against his flat, muscled chest and let his cock sink into me.

And it felt right. It felt like coming in out of the rain, returning home when you didn't know how long you'd been away. I pushed my hips up and then let myself drop down onto him again, gasping this time as my own wet readiness let him deeper than before.

To his credit, Angel didn't urge me on. I could feel his powerful hips practically shake with restraint as I rode him, slowly at first and then a little faster with each plunging dip of my pussy onto his cock. He let me go at my own pace, and he gave me what I needed.

And then, as suddenly as the desire to be in control had taken over my mind, a new desire came to life, one completely at odds with the first.

"Angel, take me. Fuck me. Have me hard and fast."

It was as if I'd flipped a switch. The moment I pushed up off of him, riding the length of his cock until I was almost off of it, his hips bucked up into me, crashing passion against my body, making my clit feel like it had thrown off sparks at the hot contact between our bodies.

His hands came up and grabbed my ass, holding me in place above him as his hips flew into me, guiding his cock into me over and over, each time pushing the breath from my lungs as I braced myself against him.

"More," I moaned into his ear as the muscles in my pussy started to convulse. He was good, too good to try and hold off the orgasm that was rushing at me out of the darkness like a wave. "Give me everything."

Now his thrusts were strong enough to lift me off of the bed, and I held on to him just as he was holding on to me. I reached my hands around him, one underneath his head to guide my mouth to his and the other around his ass. He was so strong, and the feel of his powerful muscles thrusting his cock into my pussy over and over was almost enough to tip me over the edge into an abyss I was only just beginning to fear.

"You're mine," he said, pulling away from our kiss just long enough to say it. "And I'm yours, forever or for as long as you want me."

I felt my nipples go even harder, scraping against the muscled planes of his body as I ground myself onto him, panting into his mouth and feeling like there were fireworks going off around me.

Angel's pounding, pulsing cock gave a hot lurch inside me, and I came hard as I felt him finishing inside of me.

Suddenly, I was someone else. No longer passive, no longer a passenger in life, I fucked down at him as hard as he'd been pushing up at me, clawing at his body, at the mattress, at the walls as I sought a handhold to use as leverage to force even more of this incredible man into me for a split-second longer as I arched my back and felt my body clamp down on him.

My eyes were shut so tight that I saw stars and all I could think of was one word, over and over.

Mine, mine, mine.

Because I believed him when he said that I was his and he was mine. It didn't have to make sense. It didn't have to stand up to anything other than ourselves and the world, and in that moment as I drifted down from a high I knew I'd spend the next few days trying hard to understand, I knew that what Angel and I had found was the thing that everyone looked for.

I held on to him, pressing my head to his chest, listening to the crash of his heart slow to a more normal rhythm as our bodies came back down to earth.

"Goodnight," I said.

Angel pulled me up to kiss me, a move which made me moan ever so slightly as he dragged me off his spent cock. "Sleep in my arms, Sloane," he said.

We kissed.

Angel

The first thing I did when I woke up was reach for her.

Sloane was still there, and now that I was more awake I could feel the heat of her leg draped over mine, the soft touch of her breath against my shoulder.

This was everything I'd been looking for. I didn't know how hard I'd been searching until I found it, but now that I seemed to have a chance at this sort of happiness, I felt a deep, dark pit of fear gnawing away at me.

Because I knew I'd fuck it up. I didn't deserve a girl like her. I knew it, the universe knew it, and one day she'd know it too.

After all, I wasn't even what she thought I was.

"Sloane?"

She moved against me sleepily, one of her soft hands drifting down my body to lay across my cock. I was already hard. Hell, this close to her, how could I not be? My dick twitched in appreciation of the attention.

I opened my mouth to try and wake her, even though I could hear myself yelling Stop! inside my own head. Let well enough be!

But I couldn't. She had to know everything.

"Sloane?" I said again, and this time she propped herself up on her elbow and looked at me, her hair more wild than usual from last night's passion, her bedroom eyes big and dark.

"Morning, Angel," she said, her mouth curling up into that sexy little smile I don't even think she knew she had.

"I'm not rich."

She frowned, clearly trying to work out if I was bullshitting her. "Okay," she said.

"I mean it. The Ritz? That's just a place I got to sleep as a bonus for last night's fight. Same with the Jag. I got to use them both for a month while I trained."

She shrugged. "I don't care about that," she said. "Look around you, I'm hardly used to luxury."

I followed her gaze and scanned her apartment. It was small, sure, but this close to the University the rent was probably still way more than she could afford without the steady job and the decent tips I'd cost her.

"There's more," I said. "I'm broke. That thousand dollars for the private room I sent you was pretty much the last of what I had left."

I knew the money didn't concern her, but I saw too that her eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to grasp what I was saying. Something wasn't adding up, and she knew it. "I'm not interested in a sugar daddy. The web site took a twenty percent cut, but there's still eight hundred left from what you paid me. You can have it all back, of course."

I shook my head. I didn't want her to return the money, but I was doing a shit job of getting her to understand where I was going with this and I knew it. "It's not that. It's just..."

"But you won last night. I mean, I'll be the first to admit that I don't know how these things go, but you must have won some money, right? Otherwise, what was the point?"

Good question. "Yeah, I got a thousand for signing up for the match. The winner was supposed to get another three grand, but... Well, the more I think about it, the more I'm certain I was supposed to lose last night."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Did they tell you to fix it?"

"No. But Nitro should have beat me, all things being even. And when you told me about him going down like a ton of bricks even though I missed my shot, well... He threw the fight, and that's got me worried."

She frowned. "Let me guess. The Carellos and Jessie were in on it, huh?"

"Looks that way."

"Why wouldn't your manager tell you? Why not let you in on the secret?"

"Because he knows I'd never in a million years go for it. I may just be a broke ass fighter, but I'm still trying to claw my up to decent bouts. A reputation for fixing fights would end my career before it ever had a chance to get off the ground."

Sloane sat up all the way, the covers sliding down her body, revealing her breasts. My gaze couldn't help but drink her in, and my heart soared when she made no effort to cover herself back up. "Why would they do that?"

I shrugged, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer. "The only reason to bother would be because they were setting me up for a bigger fall, which would mean a bigger pay off for them."

She sighed. "So? Don't agree to fix the next one, or the one after that? Make it clear to them you can't be bought, Angel."

I held out my hands and looked at the backs of them, scarred and bruised from last night's fight and a thousand training sessions and boxing matches before it. "It's not as easy as that. All they have to do is get someone into the ring that's so much better than me I either hit the mat or get killed."

Sloane

I sat there for a minute or two, letting that sink in. I suppose it made sense, in a twisted sort of underworld, mobster, everyone has a price way. Set Angel up in a nice place with some cash and a cool car. Let him get used to the lifestyle. Once he's got a taste for it rig the next fight so he's got some confidence. Maybe he's willing to sign on to fight a guy he'd never have considered fighting before.

Maybe he oversteps himself.

The bad guys bet big against him, and Angel gets the message - Go down or get slaughtered.

Easy.

Simple.

And with Angel's habit of planting his damn feet and taking the sort of punishment he did, it probably wouldn't be hard to find a fast, nimble fighter that could pick him apart.

"Okay," I said eventually. "The way I see it you've got three options. Ready?"

He nodded.

"Option one. Retire. Get out of the game and do something else. Run, if you have to. I saw those guys Jessie was talking about. They may be scary, but they didn't look bigtime enough to have contacts in Nowhere, Kansas. Get out of New York and never look back."

"Can't," Angel said. "There's not much else I can do besides what I'm doing now. Strong-arming for one of the gangs is the only fallback position, and that's not something I'm interested in. "Besides," he added, "you're not in Kansas."

"Option two," I said quickly, before he could do something crazy like ask me to run away with him and I could do something even more insane and say 'yes'. "Swallow your pride and go along with what they want. I know it'll suck, and I believe you when you say it might end your career, but in the short term, doing what they want is probably a lot safer than not doing what they want."

"No," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "Never."

I reached out and put my hand on his. "Good."

He squeezed my hand, clearly thankful for the support. I found myself wondering, not for the first time, how much strength a man like Angel actually received from the world. It seemed like anyone as strong as him would be constantly asked to lend himself, and rarely supported.

"What's the third option?" he asked.

"Option three is the harder one."

"Let's hear it."

I bit my lip for a second, trying to gauge the best way of telling him. I'd just told him to swallow his pride a second ago, but this was on a whole new level. "Your footwork is crap, Angel. It's too the point where you don't even try to get out of the way. I know you watched some of my ballet footage on the internet. Well, surprise surprise, big guy, there's some of you on there too. Over the years I can watch your technique deteriorate. It's like you got used to being hit, like you learned you could take it and therefore stopped working on the things you weren't good at, like your footwork, and concentrated on the things you were awesome at, like throwing punches..." I let my voice trail off, worried that I'd hurt his feelings.

He just looked at me, the muscle in his jaw working.

"You know what I mean?" I asked softly.

"So what's option three?"

Fair enough. I knew I'd have been pretty pissed off if some guy who'd never danced a day in his life tried to tell me what I was doing wrong in the ballet world, so I tried to let his anger roll off my back. "Option three is that you get better. I work with you on your movement, and we forget some of the shit that you've taught yourself. We make you into a fighter that can get out of the way, duck underneath punches and counter before the guy who's swinging at you knows where you went."

He was quiet, so I pushed on.

"Boxing is just ugly dancing, you know. Sure, you're trying to smash the other guy's face in and everything, but if they recognize where and when the punch is going to be thrown, they can dictate terms. I don't see that in you; at least not last night. You waded in and got it, and when you could you attacked. It meant you got hit a lot, and if the fight wasn't rigged I think we both know who would have won..."

"Let me get this straight," he said. "You think you, a ballet dancer a third of my weight and a foot and a half shorter than me, can somehow improve my boxing. Not just improve it, but make me win against an opponent they're certainly going to handpick to defeat me?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation, even though I wasn't so sure about this, when he put it that way. Still, if I showed worry, I knew he'd give up on himself.

"Okay," Angel answered. "Let's see what you've got."