This confirms it. I am not a boxing fan. Okay, in fairness, I really didn’t like most sports. But boxing was on a whole new level of hatred. Like a, “I want to run away, throw up, or something else” kind of hate. And we’re not even at Liam’s fight yet.
Jana and I took our seats after wading through scores of betters hawking around the stands. I’m pretty sure that sports bets like that are illegal, especially when it’s done inside men’s pockets and suit coats, but no one else seemed to care or notice. I even saw some of the house security get in on the action. Most were betting against Liam.
“Do you think he has a chance?” I lean over and ask Jana as the first match begins. “I mean, not that I care or anything…” I really couldn’t hold that back anymore. She saw that kiss and the way he touched me. Jana was the most intuitive person I knew. There was no way she didn’t catch me falling to pieces inside his large, bare arms.
Jana flips open the program she bought from the lobby salesperson. Liam’s picture is on the cover. He looks more terrifying than ever with a black mouthguard darkening his face and sweat dripping down his forehead. “I don’t know. This says he has 1:25 odds at the casino. That’s not terrible, but it’s not amazing either.”
The bell rings. Two men in front of us pull apart with the ref standing in the middle like some kind of shield. One of them is bleeding already. My sensitive stomach already begins to turn. These seats are too close. I don’t want to see these details -- the pained look on their faces, the shouts from their coaches on the other side of the ring, the clear and pink spit that gurgles from their mouths.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I say in an admittedly panicked voice to Jana who is too busy eyeing a guy over to the side of us. I momentarily consider staying to make sure she stays out of trouble. This is Jana though, and I know she can hold her own. She’s walking and talking hot nerd girl, sex-on-a-stick with that black, low-cut dress and the heels she insisted I wear until she saw me attempt to walk in them.
She waves me off as I dart past her and through the tunnel. I head straight for the women’s room, thanking every higher power for the lack of a line. I just need a splash of water on my face and to re-do this lipstick. If I have to sit through rounds of that punishment on a person I know, I need to get myself back together.
“You know Liam Murphy is fighting tonight, Amy!” I hear the voice through the stall. Liam’s name instantly catches my attention. I duck my head under the door for a quick peek. All I can see is a pair of hot pink stilettos leaning over the sink. Through the crack, I watch in horror as a woman with bright red hair straightens her pins and adjusts her bra straps through the emerald green dress. Liam’s Amy. It has to be.
“Of course I know that you dumbass. I know about all of his fights. You really think I would let that one get away? Plus, Marco doesn’t know I’m here. All the better to get in a good screw around after my man wins the fight.” Her voice is like crystals -- too high and too sharp. The accent is strong too, maybe some east coast hold over.
“You better not tell Marco,” Amy adds to her friend. “I’ve got big plans tonight. After I’m done with Liam, I’m meeting the rest of Steel Saints for a little pow-wow.” Her friend laughs in response. What the hell was a pow-wow, and, even more importantly, did Liam know about this? I grasp at my heart as I try to think of what I should do next. My phone was back at my seat with Jana and messaging him now would be pointless. The only thing I can do is listen.
But as I stand up and lean in towards the cold metal door, Amy is interrupted by the sound of the booming speakers anchored to the walls of the bathroom. “Ladies and gentlemen…. It’s the fight you’ve all been waiting for! Let’s meet our fighters…”
Amy and her friend strut out without another word, and I follow quickly behind them. I wasn’t going to miss the introductions. If it was like what I imagined, this was pretty much the only part of the fight I was going to enjoy. The lights in the stadium are turned off and a blue and green laser dances on the floor. The music pounds in my ears as I dash back to my seat. I scream over the sound of the crowd above and under us towards Jana, “I SAW HER!”
“WHO?” Jana strains.
“AMY! LIAM’S AMY!”
“WHO?!?”
Suddenly, everything stops. The music fades into the background, still beating in my ears. I look past Jana pointing at her ear, gesturing she couldn’t hear me, and the light show fills the center of the small ring. I see him. Liam. He’s decked out in a green and black robe with gold trim. The hood covers his head and face, but I can see the curl of those wicked lips. He sways gently back and forth as he waits for his name to be called.
The crowd erupts when they hear his name: “MR. MURPHY! The Irish Boy with the Golden punch!”
What was paused in my mind now speeds up. He runs through the stadium, his trainers keeping up behind him, as he high-fives a few fans with his black gloves and then throws himself into the ring and under the ropes. The robe slips off him, revealing the body that took me last night. He practically glistens under the stage lights. A thousand eyes are focusing in on his pair of greens. They are no doubt studying the tattoos that I have traced with my fingers, and commenting on those chiseled muscles that held me up to the fridge as I cried out. Several thousand people were here to see him fight. I was here to see him win.
The match begins with a bell and then a bam. I wasn’t prepared for the first blow, the one that whips Liam’s head so far over that I thought it would spin off of his neck. His hands flail towards the other man, but they just can’t connect. He goes stumbling backward as my heart stops with each step he takes away from the center. The rest of the round goes the same way. Liam is the prey. His opponent is the chaser. The group of men behind me, holding their betting slips high, are enraged.
The second and third round are not much better. Even with my limited knowledge of how the sport actually was played, I can tell a blowout when I see one. I rest my head on Jana’s shoulder, unable to watch him take another punch. That face of his is slowly turning into streaks of white, pink, and purple. His chest and back show signs of his opponents gloves in round red welts on his pale skin.
And then there is the fourth round. Jana keeps whispering to me, “It’ll be over soon. No way the judges are going to keep this going. It’s a bloodbath.” She is right. His actual blood is staining the white floor of the ring. His black shoes smear the dots as he darts back and forth, still limber on his feet.
Standing up, I do the only thing I could think of -- I call his name. “Liam!” I say it over and over again until my throat is rough and sore and my head pounds. People behind me join in, taking over for me when I can’t chant any longer. I stand in the center of the row, lifting the crowd. “Liam! Liam! Liam!”
He turns. It is brief -- only a second at most. But he turned. His green eye, the one not bruised shut, focuses squarely on me as his head ducks slightly. I watch as his lips part, taking a deep breath. He turns towards his opponent and swings. His jet-black glove connects with the sound reverberating over the entire arena. Everyone, even the chanters grow silent as Coltrane backs away, stammering with heavy, unsure feet towards his corner.
The ref doesn’t stop Liam as he charges again towards the man, this time with another raised fist. His jab smacks the man’s face back rapidly. And again. And again. And again. No one speaks. No one cheers. We watch in complete awe as Liam pounds that man until his knees buckle out from under him and the body waves forward and back. The man falls to the ground with his arms flat on his side. The ref lands next to him, counting the seconds. An eternity passes. Jana grabs hold of my arm. Everyone is on their feet screaming, shouting, hysterical. It is a wave of frenzy with no one quite sure what the hell just happened in that ring.
And there’s Liam, dead center with his back turned to the man on the floor. He walks slowly towards the side of the ring where I am standing, and he points the glove square at me. Every part of my body vibrates and ticks. I bite the edges of my dry lips as I realize just how much I want my champion.
Jana leans in and shouts over the crowd, “Go now before the rest of the crowd gets to him.”
“What?” I’m not sure if I understand her.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll wait for you back at the dorm for the juicy details. Go get that man, Alana!” I don’t even wait to hear the rest of what she has to say. I grab my purse and jet off as quickly as I can in these stupid wedge heels back towards the dressing room. My hands clutch onto the VIP lanyard pass around my neck, flashing it at anyone calling after me. No one could stop me at this point if they tried, but luckily his security guard at the dressing room remembers me and lets me in without hesitation.
Over my shoulder, I call out to him, “Tell Liam I’m here before he comes in, please.”
Alone, I pace the small room. My reflection in the mirror gives myself away to me. My arms hug my chest, while my feet dance on the tile floor. I can’t sit. I can’t stand. All I can do is walk the length of the room until I hear his voice outside the door.
“Who? Really?” I steady myself in the center of the room, my fists balling to my side. I yell at myself to get it together. This is just Liam. It’s the same guy you screwed last night. He’s also a freaking warrior God who has the power to take down a man with his own two fists… but that’s beside the point. This was just Liam.
The door opens. Flashes of light fill the room, and a roar of noise fills the space. A battered and worn Liam pauses as the door shuts behind him. Neither of us says a word. The pulse between us beats loudly as I step toward him, my hands outstretched. They find his moistened arms with his hands still wrapped in the stained gauze and tape. I pull the robe off of him slowly, letting it fall to the ground at our feet. My hand presses into the deep lines of his chest gently, not sure if I can touch him like this without causing pain.
I look over his shoulder towards the bathroom -- an idea popping into my head as my mouth goes dry. The hand pressed into him leads him in that direction, him walking backward with his eyes squared on me. I look down at our feet, too shy to give myself away. I was going to need all my courage to go through with this.
I lead him straight to the large, walk-in shower where brown and gold glass tile glitter under a few floodlights above us. Without looking away from me, Liam hits a panel near the glass door, and the jets start, spraying from each side and above like the luxury water fountain outside of this casino. The water is warm and inviting, but I’m not ready to dive in just yet.
With one push away from him, I free myself, walking back a few steps -- just enough so he can’t reach out to me. I reach behind my back to find the gold metal zipper to my low-back dress. Hook by hook, it unfurls the dress down the length of my back, my hips, my ass until it cascades down my legs and past the heels of my borrowed shoes.
Liam lets out a rush of air as he stares with eyes as hungry as a wolf’s. His lips pop unconsciously as his palms rub together eagerly. I allow my hips to sway just slightly to the sound of a beat in my own head. My skin feels hot to the touch as I pour my fingers through my pinned up hair and down the back of my neck towards the front of my chest. I cover my breasts with my hands, slightly massaging at the perky mounds of flesh. Again, I reach behind to unlatch the red lace strapless bra.
My nipples are already stiff and tender, waiting for attention. I place them between my two fingers and roll them in and out with the rhythm of my massage. Liam’s arms cross at his chest as if he is physically restraining himself from coming after me. He’s giving me permission to do this. On the tip of my toes, I spin bit by bit around so that all he can see is my fingers rounding the mounds of my tits, the curve of my back, and the black thong I purposefully put on just for him.
My crossed arms and hands slide down the hourglass of my body until they hook around the thin layer of sheer fabric. With a wiggle of my hips, I begin to lower and fold the panties so that it curls over the fleshiest part of my bottom. When they are off, I bend over slightly to step out, giving him the full show. It’s an exposure I would never be comfortable with giving to anyone but a man like him -- a man I knew appreciated a body like mine.
That confidence stayed with me as I walked back towards Liam who still stood at the door of the shower with his arms held firmly to his own bare chest. I place a hand upon his shoulders, and with the largest force I can muster, push him firmly up against the wall. His body almost bounces back in surprise as he calls out. His lips open, but I’m already there, pulling his neck down so that I can taste the sweet salt of the sweat still fresh from the fight. Water beats down and around us, but all I can taste and feel is Liam -- his worn and wrapped hands on my hips, the brush of his unshaven chin and cheeks, and the pierce of his teeth on my lips as he tugs me in further to him.
I could stay here forever, just Liam and I pushing and pulling back in a fight for who would rule this kiss and the next. But I’ve got work to do. I let go, forcing myself to do so, and creep down to my knees. Tugging slowly, I remove the boxing shorts and boxers from around his waist, revealing his large, sturdy dick. Seeing it now, like this under the bright lights of the shower, I still am amazed that it managed to fit so snugly into me yesterday. I smile wickedly as I imagine what I could do with an instrument like this…
“Alana,” he purrs as I begin massaging around the base of his cock. “Alana…” We both know what’s going to happen next. We both can feel the tug towards the other. Yet it doesn’t make me want this less. It doesn’t make his calls of my name that less more exciting, more demanding. I give him what his words can’t ask for, and what his breath can’t seem to let out. My wet lips press against the smooth skin of his shaft and slide the length to his base -- one long, unbroken kiss to reward my champion.
Next comes my tongue. Wet and ready, it curves around the tip, enveloping it like a warm blanket. Just like my lips, it slides its way up and down the throbbing cock as it grows and pulsates against my taste buds. He tastes even better than yesterday. His scent is thick, but it has that musk in that it has to belong to a beast rather than a man. I want that smell inside and all over my own needing body.
At the top, I open just wide enough for him to ease his cock into my mouth. Before I can go further, he pulls my hair back harshly, forcing me to look up at him. He isn’t smiling or showing any bit of emotion at all, he looks at me with a passion that is beyond description or explanation. He looks down at me like a man that wants more than needs.
I take the entirety of his cock into my mouth. He gently guides into the space, filling my cheeks and throat with his flesh. I hold on to the back of his legs as he begins to rock. This is not normally how I do it, but he needs the control, and to feel like he could win at something else besides the match. And I am more than happy to give him that satisfaction. His rhythm is slow and tender, only inching out of the crevasse of my mouth just slightly before plowing back in.
I keep up with him with my tongue, dancing it over the curves and veins of his shaft, tasting places I have yet to experience yet. Liam picks up speed, and I lose touch with my mouth, my jaw goes numb as I let him devour me. I moan, deliciously excited for him to take me like this, right here in the shower with the warm water pounding down my back and his chest. The wetness only makes the glide even more daring as he pushes and pulls back and forth into me.
His wrapped hands curl around my hair, pulling my head back again. “I’m going to cum,” he calls out. I know it’s a warning, but I am too far gone. I want this. I want to taste what he tastes like. I want to feel his cum spray into me - the product of my hard work. I open my mouth wider and close my eyes. His cock swells in time with his body falling back against the brown and gold shimmering tiled walls. I feel him release the muscles of his body before the deliciously salty and slick liquid pours out onto my tongue and down the back of my throat. I swallow quickly and let out a sigh as I back myself up against the glass wall.
Liam towers above me, his eyes still shut tight as if he is unwilling to let those moments go just yet. Out of breath, he growls at me, “It’s your turn now.” Before I can even move, he has scooped me up back to my feet and presses me up against the cool, smooth glass of the shower door. The icy cold touch stings my nipples and sinks into the thick skin of my thighs. But I remain still as he spreads my legs apart with his own. “Don’t move,” he adds. As if I could…
The next thing I know, I feel a hand grab onto my buttocks. He takes a large chunk of my flesh and squeezes it firmly -- so much so that I push even further into the glass. Liam then moves to the other side and does the same. I feel the brush of his chin against my hair as he leans in close, “An ass like this should be enjoyed.” He then spreads the two apart, exposing me even further to him.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs to himself. “There’s so much I could do to it.” I want to respond, but, for some reason, all the spit in my mouth has dried up, and my tongue has become completely numb. I am powerless to his desires.
Liam takes one last long breath of my hair and neck before sinking down to his knees right between my parted legs. With a hand on the small of my back, he commands me to scoot myself back further to him, my hands, breasts, and face, still plastered up against the glass while the rest of me folds gently in place.
Every touch he makes causes me to press further back. The feeling of his hands at my ankles, the tracing of his finger down my spine and between my cheeks, the rub of his rough face against the lily white parts of my inner thighs -- he’s managed to master the art of pure sexual torture. There’s nothing I can do but let out tiny shrieks whenever he changes his position.
“Perfect, Alana,” he says, admiring the folds of my pussy up close. Two fingers gently scrape across the top just so. “And already wet…” He pulls back the fingers and places them in his mouth as he sighs. “Delicious. You taste exactly how I imagined you would.”
“How’s that?” I manage to get out.
Liam answers with a sly wink, “Like ice cream on a hot day.” With that, he dives into my pussy, his fingers replaced by the warmth of his plump lips. They suction around my folds, rotating kissing and sucking while his long tongue flicked at the opening until it almost pushes itself in. I can’t help but let out a cry that wasn’t quite his name and wasn’t quite a word. It was a plea for more.
There is no stopping Liam after he begins. Just like his fight in the ring, he is relentless. He approaches me from every angle, making sure to explore every curve of the space between my legs with both his lips, tongue, and fingers. But it isn’t until he pulls back the skin covering my clit that I experience the knockout. My tiny nub rubs against the roughness of his hands. The calloused fingers and the stained wrap massage while his tongue continues to flirt with the entrance to my pussy.
The sensation is almost too much for me. My toes curl so much so that I am forced to stand on tippy-toes to keep balance, and I grab desperately at the glass, pounding a fist into the surface. The hollow ring echoes through the sound of the water falling down upon Liam’s body. I plant myself in place, forcing me to feel and experience the madness of Liam’s work. The pain is worth the pleasure.
My ass presses back towards his face as I let go, and my hips lower to him so that I was practically bowing to the ground. I want him like water in a desert. I want him like a child and candy. I want him like rain on a hot day. I want him, and I want no other. At some point, I begin calling out his name. The deep, guttural sound in my chest becomes words, directing him through the map to my orgasm. “Liam… faster…. Liam… oh, God! Your mouth…. Liam… inside me… now…. More… YES.”
He obeys each and every one of my requests, moving through me as if he has known my body forever. His long arms reach up to grab hold of my breasts for support. Like magic, he manages to read my mind, massaging them with the same veracity as his tongue dashing in and out of my pussy.
Part of me wants to hold on to this - to keep myself from orgasming as long as possible. This is the kind of feeling that needs to last for as long as I can make it. However, that burning pit in my stomach and between my legs is slowly creeping up my chest, causing the butterflies to float and flutter through my arms and neck. Everything begins to tingle deliciously as I focus on Liam gently licking at the wetness of my vulva.
I can’t take it anymore. I can’t hold it in. I press my legs down into the tiled ground as if I’m about to take off and then, in one beautiful moment, it happens. It’s an orgasm to beat all orgasms. Warm and maddening, my head spins and struggles to stay afloat for that second, that long second when everything in this world is perfect and pure. It’s only Liam and me in this shower while the rest of the world is not. No one could feel the power of Liam bringing me to orgasm. No one could feel the burning release. With just a few touches, he has managed to set me free.
I turn around, panting, my arms reaching for him. They find his neck as my legs wrap around his thick hips. His cock is already hard again, searching for my pussy as he pulls me back against the back wall of the shower. My hands float up against the wall, him pinning them in place as he kisses the side of my neck and frantically down between my breasts. My nails claw at his back, desperately begging him to just enter me.
Liam’s head whips to the side. His motion stops as the room grows suddenly too quiet. “Did you hear that?” he asks as he turns back to me. I am too wrapped up to hear anything but the sound of our mouths gasping for breath, and our fingers thumping against wet skin.
“No… nothing,” I say to him as I gently tug at his chin to lead him straight back to my lips. “It’s just the wa--”
There was a knock -- a thunderous, urgent knock that couldn’t be ignored. It rang through the dressing room and into the bathroom. “Liam fucking Murphy! Open the damn door!” A man’s voice that I instantly recognize as his coach breaks through. “Open up and tell your damn security to stand down! You’ve got a presser to do in five minutes!”
Liam leans over my shoulder and hits his head against the tile in frustration. “There’s things I love about winning. This was certainly one of them. But then there’s the other shit I’ve gotta do too… like talk to a hundred reporters in a press room instead of fucking you until you’re raw and orgasming for a second and third time.”
“Must suck to be a winner,” I say as I slip out of his grip and under his arm. I throw him a towel from a pile of white linens while wrapping another around my body. Looking over my shoulder, I scowl, “I’ll take a reign check then, I suppose.”
A thought comes to me as I pull the dress over my wet head. Just as Liam is about to leave, I let it slip, “I saw your ex tonight. You may want to check your boys. She says she was going to meet with them tonight.”
From the crestfallen, pissed off look on his face, I know it’s not the right bomb to drop on him before he heads out to deal with the press and his coach, but that’s what I’m here for, right? Screwing around on the job is just the second benefit.