The Aftermath by R.J. Prescott (29)

“I can help you get that weathered old arse up into that ring if you like,” I said to Danny as I sat down in the empty seat next to him. The cameras were following my every move but Kieran and Liam were keeping them out of my face while Tommy gave them my life story.

“Feck off, ya’ cocky little shite,” he replied, making me chuckle. “Your face looks like crap. Thought I told you not to get hit again.”

“Yeah, but since when did I ever listen to you?” I answered. We both paused as we stared, disbelievingly, at the ring in front of us.

“You did it, kid,” he said to me, his eyes a little stunned and watery.

“You gave this to me, Danny. You put me on this path, and without you, I wouldn’t be here. Shit, without you, I’d probably have gone down the same path as me ma,” I told him.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Boxing is in your blood. You’ve got some kind of magic in that ring that I ain’t never seen before. And you weren’t never going the same way as that gin-soaked, sour-faced, bitter old bitch. You just needed a kick up the arse that’s all. Maybe we both did. If anyone’s responsible for all this, it’s that girl of yours.”

We both looked up to see Em answering questions from some reporter. I could tell how nervous she was by the way she kept tucking her hair behind her ear.

“She ain’t never getting rid of me,” I told Danny, like it was a vow. Em was mine for life. That would never change.

“Poor girl,” he said with a chuckle that turned into a laugh. Honest to God, in all the years I’ve known Danny, I’d never seen him laugh. Even Kier and Liam turned around to watch. It was pretty infectious, and we were all grinning and laughing along with him as the gravity of what we’d done began to sink in. Pretty soon tears of laughter were running down his cheeks, and Danny wiped them away with the back of his hand. He patted my knee in amusement, then stood up.

“Where are you going?” I asked him.

“I’m gonna find a good Irish bar and see if I can help Father Pat put a dent in the church central heating fund.”

More camera crews were getting pretty persistent, and eventually I caved in and gave them the interviews they were looking for. When it was done, I saw Em, still standing in the ring and chatting with some of Temple’s entourage. Knowing her, she was probably trying to console them over their camp’s loss.

“Sorry, boys, I’m taking back my wife,” I interrupted, and without waiting to hear what they had to say about it, picked her up bridal-style and carried her to the ropes. I dropped her over the side, and she screeched as Kier caught her.

“Fuck, why are you hitting me? He’s the one who dropped you,” Kieran complained as she smacked him on the arm.

“Because he’s been hit enough for one day,” Em told him. They both wore stupid-arse grins that I expected we’d all be wearing for the next month, or at least until I had to start training again. Jumping down myself, I jogged over to take Sunshine from him. Call me possessive as fuck, but I didn’t want her in anyone’s arms but mine.

When we got back to the locker room, the hallway was filled with people all wanting a piece of me. Earnshaw was in his fucking element, so we left him out there to deal with them and shut the door behind him. He was PR’s golden boy now. The kid in his twenties who’d left a big firm to sign with an unknown, who’d come from nowhere to win a World Heavyweight title. There were probably as many people out there who were trying to poach him as those who wanted a piece of me. I liked the guy but it would be a good test of his loyalty to see whether he stuck with us or jumped ship.

I crossed the length of the room in seconds and as I got to the door of the bathroom, I called back to Kier who was turning on the television as the boys handed out beers. “Tell the doc to give me five minutes,” I told him.

“You sure you won’t need longer?” he asked, smirking at Em and making her blush.

“I need a fucking week, but after two months of no married time, I’m pretty sure two minutes would do it.”

“O’Connell!” Em exclaimed, outraged as she covered her face in embarrassment. The boys laughed and upped the volume on the TV. Closing the door behind me, I turned on the shower and stripped off my boots and shorts as the water heated.

“Baby, your face. Shouldn’t we wait until you’ve seen the doctor before we fool around?” she told me.

“I’m not planning on fooling around. I’m pretty serious about what I want to do. Honestly, I’m fine.” I closed my eyes as she delicately stroked my injuries and opened them again to see the worried look in her eyes.

“Mrs. O’Connell, do you know how fucking happy I am that you got to see me fight?” I asked.

“Not as happy as I was to make it in time. Remind me to call and thank the car service before we go. They took my bag and delivered it to the hotel so I could get to you quicker.”

The fucking tape on my hands was taking ages to get off. As soon as I saw Em slide down her skirt, I knew the tape could wait until later. Grabbing her roughly like some kind of caveman, I lifted her effortlessly to wrap her legs around my waist while plundering her mouth. Fuck, she tasted like heaven. Her tongue tangled against mine as she pressed herself as close to me as possible. Slipping one hand down her panties, I squeezed the smooth globe of her arse cheek. She sat perched on my cock that was hard as a diamond, but I couldn’t bear to let her go long enough to strip her.

“Let me down, O’Connell,” she said huskily. It killed me to do it but I reluctantly did as she asked, groaning because she brushed past my dick on the way down.

“Start singing the national anthem,” she ordered.

“I don’t think that’s going to work this time,” I replied, looking at her breasts as her hands moved up to her bra. One strap slid down her arm and then the other. When she reached around to unclasp it, my mouth went dry.

“You promised me once that you were going to fuck me to it,” she said with a glint of mischief in her eyes. I started singing, but a few bars in, when she slid down her panties, I was done. Dropping to my knees, I palmed one of her tits. When I slid the nipple into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it, she moaned and slipped a hand into my hair to steady herself. I wanted to make this last so fucking badly, but we had forever to take our time. This was going to be hard and fast.

Sliding my hand up her silky soft leg, I reached between us to part her folds. I didn’t exactly have a plan, but spotting the bench and towels behind us, I found a way to make her at least a little comfortable for what was coming next.

Standing abruptly, I kissed her hard, then reached over to spread the towels out over the bench, lifted her up, and laid her down across them. Before she could protest, my head was between her legs, and I was feasting like a man possessed. She was already so fucking close. Her little gasps and moans were making me even harder, and I knew the only place I wanted to celebrate my victory was in bed with my wife. I felt like I’d finally proved my worth to her in the ring, and now I was reminding her why I was the only man she’d ever need to satisfy her outside of it.

She writhed and wriggled beneath me, trying to make it over the edge. Sliding two fingers inside her as my tongue worked its magic, I gave her the blissful oblivion she was looking for. With her hand gripping my hair and riding my fingers hard, she cried out loudly as she came. Half the guys in my dressing room probably heard it, but I didn’t care. While she was still quivering and contracting, I sat down on the bench and lifted her to straddle me. She was soft and relaxed, like a woman completely sated. She was so wet that she slid down slowly but easily onto my waiting cock. I buried my head in the crook of her shoulder and stayed completely still, scared that even the slightest movement would trigger my release. I was still struggling with my control when she grabbed the hook on the wall above me and used it as leverage to rock her hips up and down. Her tight little hole milked me with the aftermath of the orgasm I’d just given her.

“Fuck, Sunshine, I’m not gonna last long,” I told her.

“Me either, baby,” she moaned. I reached between us to stroke my thumb lightly over her clit and angled my pelvis higher to hit the right spot. Still trembling from the last orgasm, she came again loudly on my dick. What little control I had completely snapped. Grabbing her hips, I lifted her up and down hard and fast. Tomorrow I probably wouldn’t be able to move but tonight I was pumped full of adrenaline, and every muscle in my body was primed and ready to make this woman mine. I wanted to brand myself so deeply into her soul that my name would be the first and last on her lips, forever.

“O’Connell,” she moaned in pleasurable agony and the sound of my name vibrating through her lips was enough to set me off. The violence of my orgasm rocked us both, and I held her close to me, her forehead resting gently against mine. My heart was beating so loudly that I was sure she could hear it.

“I fucking love you, Mrs. O’Connell,” I said. There isn’t a single day that went by that I didn’t thank God that she chose me. I didn’t need her to fix me and all the fucked-up shit that followed me. I just needed her to love me and have faith in me while I fixed myself. She was so far out of my fucking league that having her love me back seemed like an impossible hope once. But striving to be worthy of that love had changed me. It made me a better man. Now I knew the man I was capable of being and the man I was.

“I love you too, Mr. O’Connell. So much,” she whispered back, and closing her eyes, she gently kissed her way down my injured face. We showered each other, tenderly, and then threw on some sweats. I imagined the boys had organized a victory party at the hotel so we could change there. I loved that she reached for my black hoodie to keep her warm. The minute I saw her in it, I was hard again. At this rate, neither of us would be able to walk tomorrow. Five minutes I’d told Kieran, but it was forty-five before we came out of the bathroom giggling and holding hands. Everybody stared pointedly at the television and avoided looking at us, though Tommy was humming the Irish national anthem.

“Don’t worry, the doctor waited,” Kieran told us without turning away from the screen. Sure enough, the middle-aged doctor sat on the sofa between Liam and Tommy, clutching his medical bag on his lap and looking absolutely terrified.

“He wants to know if you’re okay, Sunshine,” Tommy asked. “You sounded like you were in pain.” Unable to hold a straight face any longer, they all burst out laughing and started whooping and hollering. When Tommy started making arse-spanking gestures, the doc looked like he was gonna piss himself. Em pulled the neck of her hoodie to cover her face and buried her head into my side.

“Laugh it up, arseholes,” I told them, rubbing her back reassuringly and not giving a single fuck who heard us.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, doc,” I told the doctor and led him to the back of the room so he could do his stuff. Em sat down in the seat he’d vacated, and I smiled as they carried on ribbing her. A couple of small stitches and some ice packs for the swelling, and I was given the all clear. Despite the soft tissue damage, which would heal, my vision was fine. I’d have a hell of a black eye tomorrow though.

Em and I held hands on the car journey back, me playing with her fingers and teasing them gently through my own. Every touch was foreplay. The bathroom had taken the edge off but we still had months to make up for. Right now we were slow dancing, building the anticipation for what was going to be the end of a fucking epic night. When we got back to the hotel, I decided to skip my ice bath, even knowing I’d be in agony in the morning. I shaved and changed into jeans and a black shirt, then sat flicking through the television channels while I waited for Em. When she came out of the bathroom, I dropped the remote control.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, making her smile.

“Are you sure it looks okay?” she asked nervously. She stood in the doorway wearing a short, body hugging black dress and black stiletto heels. She looked like every wet dream I’d ever had. When she turned around to show me that the dress was backless, my jaw hit the floor.

“O’Connell, say something!” she complained, rubbing her hands anxiously down her dress. I was speechless, willing my brain to put together words to form a sentence.

“You look amazing.” It was the fucking lamest thing I could ever had said, and it didn’t do any justice to the breathtaking, heart-stopping way she affected me, but it was enough to make her smile.

“I know it’s not really me, but this is Las Vegas, and Nikki and Katrina have been nagging at me to try clothes that are less conservative,” she told me by way of explanation. Trying to use my words only ever made me seem like a fucking moron so I crossed the room, grabbed the nape of her neck and, with one kiss, showed her exactly how I felt.

For one rare and magical evening, we both got to act our age. The hotel party was epic, and I don’t know how the guys organized it, but everyone we knew, including the Southside guys, were there, together with a load of people that we didn’t know. We danced and drank for most of the night, and then I got to fall into bed and get hot and naked with my wife.

When Em woke me up at noon the next day, I felt like I’d only been asleep for five minutes. My head was pounding, and I was pretty sure that I was paralyzed from the neck down. I tried moving my arm and cried out like a little fucking girl when the seized-up muscle started to spasm. Not only did I have the hangover from hell, I’d missed my ice bath and was paying for it dearly.

“Come on,” Em told me as she helped me up, “I’ve run you a warm bath.” It did help but I still felt like shit when we reached the lobby. The guys were already waiting, and with most of us decked out in mirrored aviators to protect our fragile eyes from the sun, it looked like a casting call for Top Gun. Not a word was said as we took a taxi to Odell’s diner. When we arrived, we all shuffled into a booth and waited in hungover silence for a waitress.

“Have you ever seen a more sorry lot in all your life, Danny?” Father Pat asked as he grinned at us all.

“They’re feeling a bit delicate today,” Em told him. I didn’t need to ask why Em wasn’t suffering. She’d only had a few drinks last night, still feeling uncomfortable about losing control in public, even with Frank dead. Old habits die hard, I guessed. Although we didn’t say a lot, the food really helped, and we demolished our meals in no time, feeling a bit more human after.

“Can you pass the sugar, please?” Earnshaw asked Tommy, who pushed the bowl toward him. I watched, mesmerized, as he loaded up his coffee with sugar after sugar. When he’d finally made it to the party, he had a grin from ear to ear. Despite the late start, I still think he partied harder than all of us. We’d talk properly when we were back home but he’d told me last night that there was some pretty exciting stuff on the horizon.

“Are you going back to the hotel after this?” Danny asked us.

“No. We’ve got something to do first. We’ll meet you in the hotel lobby at seven o’clock,” Kier told him. Danny didn’t ask what we had planned. It might have been because he knew better, but more than likely he just didn’t give a shit.

“What do you have planned?” Em asked me.

“Leon and the Southside guys are taking us all out for dinner tonight and showing us some of Vegas. This afternoon we’ve got something to do though.” She found out what two hours later when I ushered her into the door of the tattoo shop Leon had recommended. We’d all agreed, Earnshaw included, that if we won the fight we were getting tattooed. Everyone got to pick what they wanted but I wouldn’t let Em see mine until it was done. She ran her fingers reverently over the raised script across my ribs.

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears, as she read it. I pulled her in for a quick kiss, knowing exactly what she was thinking. We had two more blissful days of doing tourist shit in Vegas before we had to fly home, and I was relieved that we managed to get Em a seat on the same flight. It was like a mini-honeymoon, only I’d been beaten up and we had five chaperones. None of that mattered though. Having her there with me, when she should have been half a world away, was a gift.

We wore our stupid grins for the whole flight. Everything still hurt, and I’d heard the weather back home was shite, so the only thing I planned on doing was getting back to the flat and falling into bed with my girl, at least until Christmas.

We had no idea how many paparazzi would be waiting for us at the airport. Apparently my ugly mug made for a good story. I barged through them without so much as a smile, making Earnshaw roll his eyes. Fuck it. I was on the grid now. Ireland’s bad boy of boxing.

The papers would no doubt dredge up details of my tragic upbringing and Em’s horrific past, but as long as Em was good, I didn’t give a shite. If everything we’d endured up to this point was necessary to bring us to where we were now, to the man I was today, then I’d still do it all over again.

Life isn’t about settling for what you have and making the best of it. It’s about getting back up when everyone else around you is counting you out, and fighting for what you want. As I walked out into the cold winter’s night, surrounded by my family and with my wife’s hand in my own, I knew exactly what was worth the fight.