Slowly I release my hold on her neck to bring myself down over her, resting my weight on my arms. I kiss her shoulder and smile as she shudders letting out a soft, satisfied sigh. Out of breath from our climax and with me still buried deep inside, I affect her with a simple kiss. I can’t put words to how that affects me.
Kissing her one last time, I roll away from her reluctantly, just as my phone starts ringing. It’s gotta be one of my brothers wondering where the fuck I am. I snag it off the nightstand and swipe my finger over Mav’s goofy looking face at the same time I hook an arm around Frankie, dragging her close to me. I know that our time alone is coming to an end, and I just want to enjoy the feel of her against me for a little longer.
“I know, Mav, I’ll be there soon,” I say in way of greeting.
“Soon? Motherfucker you were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago,” he barks at me.
I knew I was going to catch hell, but smelling the sex lingering in the room, on the two of us, I couldn’t really give a shit less. I can’t say any of that to Mav though. I’m not sure how the Princess wants to out us. Then I’m pulled back to the conversation that my brother has just now realized he is having with himself.
“Yo, Deacon! You there, bro? I said that Sonny and Pop are about to lose their shit. You know you have weigh-in today, right?”
Sighing deeply “Yes, Maverick, I know. Tell them I’m jumping in the shower now and I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, do that. You come in here smelling like cheap perfume and pussy and Pop is gonna have your ass,” he warns. Laughing even though I know he’s one hundred percent correct, I can’t help but cave just a little and tell him smugly,
“Ain’t nothing cheap about it, brother.” Before disconnecting and leaving him wondering.
Looking down, I see that she has fallen asleep again curled into my side. I would give anything to be able to stay in bed all day with her but I know there’s no way. Brushing the hair from her forehead, I put my lips to the skin I’ve exposed, murmuring her name in between light kisses trying to wake her.
Groaning in displeasure, she opens her eyes and glares up at me.
“I prefer the other way you have of waking me much better,” she pouts.
“Trust me, baby, I do too but I missed gym time and I’m pretty sure that if I don’t get my ass in gear, Sonny will be breaking down the door.”
“Ooooh, you’re going to be in so much trouble!” she jokes.
And then it hits her that it’s not just any gym time. We’re the day before the fight. Sitting up straight, almost head-butting me in the process, “Deacon, please tell me that you did not miss your fucking weigh-in? They’ll kill you!” She’s a bit panicked now, which is cute.
Not even for her would I miss a weigh-in. It’s disrespectful to your opponent and to the Commission.
“Come on now, Princess, you know better than that,” I tease while openly staring at her tits.
Snapping her fingers in front of my nose, “What time is the weigh-in?”
Folding my arms behind my head, I go back to ogling her fuck hot body, noticing the patches of beard burn I’ve left behind on her sensitive skin. My cock is literally still wet from being inside of her and I’m ready to go again. She has no clue what she does to me. None. How in the fuck did I go this long without being with her like this? There is no turning back for me. She’s my forever, my motherfucking end game. I’m done. The Princess owns me, and pussy that I am, I couldn’t be happier about it. I feel invincible right now.
“I have to be at the Convention Center by four, I think, and then the press conference right after.”
Glancing at the time on the cable box, I groan.
“Fuck. I have to jump in the shower and get my ass to the gym or Sonny really is going to come for me.”
Smiling down at me, she places a soft kiss on my lips, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes. Hers are so fucking blue they’re almost white.
“I would offer to wash your back, but we’d never get out of here. I’m going to use my bathroom.” Kissing me once more, she hops out of bed completely naked and sashays her sweet ass out of the room.
Grabbing a hold of my cock, stroking over it once, I contemplate following her until my phone starts ringing again, making the choice for me. Ignoring the call, I go straight for my shower.
I’m tugging a shirt over my head when she enters my room wearing the jeans from last night and a Deacon “The Hitman” Love shirt, the collar ripped out of it so that it hangs off her shoulder, exposing the swirling ink there and her black bra strap. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.
Leaning against the door frame, arms crossed under her tits causing my name to pull tight across them, she snorts as delicately as one can while snorting, and shakes her head at me, gesturing in my direction with her chin.
“Nice shirt, Deac. You ass.” She’s laughing now.
Brushing a hand down the front of my black t-shirt that reads “Just The Tip, I Promise…” in vintage barbershop letters, I feign hurt.
“You don’t like it? I bought it just for you.”
I give her a knowing smirk and watch as the heat my words cause creeps across her skin. I love making her blush. It’s not just her cheeks that go all pink, it’s her whole body and it’s sexy as hell.
Before she can say anything more, her phone starts playing some weird ass song from where it sits on my dresser. Watching her walk over to it, I raise a curious brow that she’s either pretending she doesn’t see or she just isn’t going to indulge my ass. Slipping my feet into my chucks and grabbing a hoodie from my closet, I try not to eavesdrop but can’t help the rush of jealousy when I hear her say, “Goodbye, Cristiano.”
“What did he want, Frankie?” I bite out.
I know that I need to reel my shit in because she’s not gonna put up with me barking shit at her because I’m all ass hurt that he called.
Now she’s the one with the raised eyebrows.
“I have a class that he can’t teach and he just wanted to make sure that I didn’t forget about it. Usually I’m there whether he’s helping out or not, but clearly this morning I’m not. He was concerned.” She’s talking to me like one would a bratty kid, which I probably deserve.
Concerned, my ass. Fucker is keeping tabs and getting a little too used to having her around all the time. Why is he staying? As far as I can tell, Frankie is at full strength and doesn’t need him anymore. Unless she’s not telling me something.
“You feeling okay? Your ribs still bothering you, your head?”
Shit, did I hurt her? I never even thought about her still being sore.
“Nope. I’m good.” Smiling reassuringly, she comes over and loops her arms around my neck, going up on her tiptoes. I meet her halfway and let her kiss away my concern.
Before things get too heated, she pulls away, gazing up at me through her lashes, looking as dazed by the power behind our kiss as I feel. She drops back down to her heels, “Come on, baby, we gotta go before I beg you to do filthy things to me again.” The need for those filthy things coming through in her husky voice.
Groaning up at the ceiling in frustration, “Keep saying shit like that and you’re gonna get fucked, Princess.”
Standing off to the side of the stage waiting for them to call my name, I search the crowd for Frankie. She’s here with Guy somewhere. Knowing him, they’re in the front row or close to it. Finally spotting them, I just watch and wait for her to feel me looking at her. I hadn’t been sure if she was going to be here tonight, since I didn’t see her after we got to the gym this morning. She had her class and I had my asshole brothers riding my ass for being late. I’d meant to ask her, but I’m so used to Frankie just being at these things anyways it slipped my mind. This relationship shit is fucking tricky. I’ve never been in one, so she has a lot to teach my slow ass. Letting my eyes travel over her, I can feel my cock getting heavy. Great, just what I fucking need before I drop trou in front of thousands of people. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been semi hard getting weighed in, but if I’m not careful, I’ll be sporting full wood. Adjusting myself in my track pants, I just stare at my girl. She’s changed out of her “Hitman” shirt. Her hair is down and wavy, the lights in the auditorium casting a halo over the long, platinum strands. She has on this low-cut, white top that I’m pretty sure is lace underneath a black blazer with the sleeves rolled up revealing her delicate wrists covered in bracelets. I can see that she has on jeans, but I can’t tell what she has on her feet, but I know I’m gonna want to fuck her in nothing but whatever they are later. All of a sudden I’ve developed a fucking shoe fetish. This train of thought isn’t helping with my hard on even a little bit. Making my way back up to her face, our eyes meet. I mouth, “You look hot as fuck,” winking at her.
The smile that spreads across her face is contagious, and before I know it, I’m standing there like an asshole, hand on my cock and a dopey fucking smile on my face. Shaking my head at myself, I chuckle and give her my, “You’re so getting fucked later” smirk before turning away to listen to what my pop and Sonny are saying to me.
When the emcee calls my name, the room explodes into applause, catcalls, and screaming. Smiling and waving as I step onto the stage with Mav, I nod at the men waiting to weigh me in and pose me with Tamasino for the pictures, completely ignoring the bikini-clad chicks lining the wall. I’ve fucked too many of the ring girls here to feel comfortable even making eye contact with any of them knowing Frankie’s in the same room. Standing to the side of the scale, I toe off my shoes and bend to yank off my socks, handing them to Mav before giving him my hat and “Just the Tip” shirt, leaving my pants for last since I’m still more than semi hard. Once I’m down to nothing but my black boxer briefs, my hard on, and my ink, I take a deep breath and step onto the scale. Being a heavyweight fighter, I have to stay under 265, which isn’t a problem for me, but it’s all still pretty nerve wracking.
“Two hundred and forty pounds,” the guy manning the scale announces.
Flexing once for the cameras, I hop off the scale and go over to where Mav is holding my clothes to wait on Tam to get weighed. Leaving my shirt off for the pictures with Tamasino, I look over to see Mav looking at me in amusement.
“What?”
“Way to rock out with your cock out, Deac.”
Shrugging, I take the coconut water that he offers me since I hadn’t been able to drink anything before the weigh in and it’s important to stay hydrated for tomorrow. Handing it back to him, I watch as Tam gets on the scale, a fierce looking scowl on his ugly mug.
Shaking hands with Derek Elliott, the President and founder of the Elite Warriors Federation, I lean in so that I’m able to hear him when he starts speaking, welcoming me back and wishing me luck. Thanking him, I turn and wait for “The Devil” to get his bitch ass dressed. Finally he comes over to where we’re standing and he’s still got his tough guy face on. Laughing at him, I give him my sexy smile, the one I reserve for the ladies and guys who think they’re scary, and raise my fists for the picture.
“Tam, my man, what’s the matter?”
I get nothing, just a deeper frown.
Shaking my head, I clap him on the back and turn toward the cameraman for one last shot before Tamasino is stalking off the stage.
I look over at Mav, taking my shirt from him, and we just shrug our shoulders at his douchebaggery.
“Sand in his vagina, brother?” I ask Mav, not able to hold back the shit eating grin.
I love how pissed these guys get, like it’s gonna fucking matter one way or another once we get in the cage. Heading off the stage, I hear someone calling my name, a female someone, a not-Frankie female someone, so I ignore it and keep moving. Once we hit the bottom step where Sonny, Pop, and Reggie are waiting, I look to where Guy and Frankie had been sitting. They’re talking with Derek, Trent standing close by, so I turn my attention to my brothers and dad.
“I’m heading over to the press room now to go over the questions a final time. I’ll see you in there in five minutes, Deacon.” Mav turns and walks off toward the front of the convention center.
“Pop and I are going to talk to Derek, and then we’ll meet you in there,” Sonny says raising his hand for a high-five.
Signaling for my brother to go on without him, he starts in on me, “Now, Deac, the questions are bound to get personal no matter how well Mav does fielding them. You took time out during the middle of a season—people want to know why. It’s not their business. Try to keep your cool and stick with the answers that you and your brother went over, okay?” Cupping the back of my neck, he gives me a stern look. “That shirt is not cute either, you fucking hooligan.”
Smirking at my dad, I try not to laugh.
“‘Hooligan,’ Pop, really?”
He shakes his head like he’s exasperated with me, although we both know he expects nothing less, and leaves to join the conversation with Derek who is still speaking with Guy and the Princess. I love how she’s so comfortable in my world. I know it’s because of her dad, but still, it makes me happy and life a little bit easier. I look over at Reggie to tell him that we’re heading out when I feel a small hand on my back. Looking over my shoulder, I groan inwardly. Fuck me. No good can come of this shit.
“Hey, D. I’m so glad that you’re back. I’ve missed you. Not sure if Veronica is here tonight, but we could call her—or not,” Sylvia says in what she must consider her seductive voice, running her talon-like fingernails over my arm and curling them around my bicep.
Cringing, I pull my arm out of her grasp. Not only is she a friend of Veronica’s, she’s also a friend who doesn’t mind sharing, and the three of us have shared a few times.
“Not gonna happen, Sylvia. No fucking way.” As I turn to walk away, I’m stopped dead in my tracks when I see Frankie standing right behind me.
“Oh my God, what are you doing here? I thought you were like dead or something.”
Snapping my head in Sylvia’s direction, I can only stare at her in fucking amazement. Did she seriously just say that shit? Before I can even recover from my shock, Frankie blows out a deep breath.
“Charming,” she says in a bored tone, rolling her eyes. Dismissing Sylvia she focuses on me. “You ready to go, Deac, or do you want me to head in with Reggie?” I can hear the edge in her voice, the hint of pissed off simmering just below the surface. My girl is jealous. Fuck, that’s hot.
“Ummm, we were talking, Franny,” Sylvia says nastily.
“It’s ‘Frankie,’ and why don’t you do us all a favor and go put some clothes on?”
She’s looking at me expectantly for an answer, but I can’t even remember the question.
I’ve seen Frankie get into a couple catfights before—talk about hot—but this, this is because she’s jealous. Over me. I’m hard; I can’t help it.
“Don’t be jealous—I’m sure you’ll grow a pair like these someday too,” Sylvia says, cupping her barely covered and very paid-for tits.
Scoffing, Frankie flicks an icy gaze at her in amusement.
“If by ‘grow’ you mean go into the nearest alley and have some fakey plastic surgeon you found on Craig’s List implant them, I think I’m good. You might want to get a refund though, those things look lumpy.”
Gasping loudly, Sylvia hisses at a cool and collected Frankie as Reggie and I stare in absolute wonder.
“Fuck you, you ratchet bitch!” she yells before pushing past us.
“Classy, doll. Real classy,” Frankie calls after her before pinning those glacial eyes on me.
“Really, Deacon? Sylvia Cortez? You know what, don’t fucking answer that. Can we go now or are there more of your girls to deal with?” Eyebrow raised, lips pursed in aggravation.
All I can think to say is “You’re my girl, Princess. And you’re stupid fucking hot when you get jealous.” Scooping her up and kissing her pouty mouth before she can argue with me, I smile against her lips. “Would you have hit her?”
Shoving against my chest forcing me to release her, she huffs out an exasperated breath and stomps off in the direction that the press conference will be held.
I follow behind her, watching her bubble ass sway as she walks. A quick glance over at Reggie and I catch him looking at her ass too. I can’t even be mad—it’s fucking perfection.
Sitting at the long table in the front of the room, I take my seat at the microphone in between my two brothers. Normally both fighters would be here, but seeing as this is my first fight back, it’s kind of a big deal and so I’m the only fighter being interviewed. I already did a spot for the EWF last month that has been running for the last two weeks, so this is purely for the press. All of the big name magazines, newspapers, and sports stations are crammed in here. Derek Elliott, the president, enters the room and makes his way to where we are sitting. I stand to shake his hand once again as cameras click and whir. Once he takes his seat, the questions begin.
After twenty minutes, I’m over this shit. Everything has gone pretty well so far. The reporters have kept the questions away from my private life and why I forfeited the fights that I did. That is until Rick “I’m a dick” Withers sneaks one in.
“I was told by a source extremely close to you that there wasn’t anything necessarily important that you took time off for, only that you needed a break from the Octagon. Did you think that because you had already accumulated so many points that you would be able to jump right back into the game even if you bowed out of a few fights? Are you worried how other fighters, your peers, might perceive that bold move?” Rick asks condescendingly
Trying to keep my cool even though I want to come across this table and hand him his ass, I manage to say as evenly as possible, “I didn’t realize Extreme Fighter ran a gossip column now. Next time tell them to send their sports reporter not Anne fucking Landers, yeah?”
Looking away, dismissing him, I scan the reporters in the room so I can take the next question. I’m still heated, the muscle in my jaw ticking. I know that I’m going to get fined by the EWF for the f-bomb I just let fly, but I really don’t even fucking care, I knew as soon as I saw his face and his smug fucking grin that he was going to be trouble. Just like his sister. Fuck me. What the hell was I thinking, fucking around with Veronica? Clearly the whole family is a bunch of assholes.