Chapter 2
Flynn and Daniel, my hard-ass coaches, kicked my ass today. It was their going away present to themselves before flying back home for the weekend. My fight with Parsons is approaching fast and we’re all fucking ready to have this shit happen. He’s my last stop before hitting the pros and getting that contract. Parsons is going to have one hell of a fiercely determined motherfucker on his hands. I’m ready to vindicate my name.
Whitney called earlier and told me we were going out to eat with Candice tonight. I didn’t have a say, but frankly, as long as I’m with her, I don’t give a damn what the hell I’m doing. She could drag me to a vile opera and I’d gladly wear a smile beside her.
She’s my weakness.
I’m powerless when it comes to her.
She’s just getting out of the shower as I make my way into the bedroom. Her body is wrapped in one of her pink fluffy ass towels and her long, wet strands are brushed.
Her golden-brown eyes brighten when she looks into the mirror and spots me. “Hey. You’re home early.”
“Coaches had a plane to catch,” I say, stalking toward her.
I level my greedy gaze on her, heavy with need and acutely aware everything I want is bare underneath the pink fabric. Dragging my finger along the top edge of the towel, I graze her skin here and there. She looks up from beneath her lashes and bites the side of her lip just as I find the end of the fabric and give it a slight tug. It unravels from her naked body and pools around her feet.
I inhale, taking her in. She’s mesmerizing.
I slowly drag the backs of my knuckles from her clavicle, down between her tits, and splay a heavy hand around her ribcage. Her breath hitches.
Her body responds to my touch in the most supreme ways. It’s flattering and it drives my need to feel her, especially since there is no denying how badly she wants me. She’s always ready. Always wanting. Always mine.
I step her backward against the wall, tugging out of my shirt and pressing my body against hers. The way she’s looking at me, like I’m all she ever sees—it’s my grace. I slant my mouth over hers, slowly devouring her taste. Our tongues tangle and she moans quietly, dragging her hands over my shoulders and fisting my hair.
I flex my hips and her body limbers. I smirk when I pull back and then sink to my knees before my goddess. With a heavy tongue, I lap her clit and then suck on it gently. Her moan is louder as she drops her head back to the wall, her eyes closed, mouth parted, and steadying herself by my shoulders.
She rocks against my mouth, panting more hurriedly. But I’m feeling gluttonous today. I need to feel her. Have my name fall from those sexy ass sultry lips of hers. I need to be inside her as she loses herself. When her legs begin to tighten and quake, it’s my cue to stop. I place heavy kisses up her thigh, over her stomach and pause on a hard nipple, tugging it between my teeth while I shove my gym shorts down.
Impatiently, she sighs, gripping a handful of hair, and brings me back to her mouth. She nips my bottom lip, wrapping her leg around my waist. I sink into her, instantly overcome with the thrill, an adrenaline surge ready to siphon every morsel of her orgasm from her.
I grip her ass and lift her, pushing her back into the wall as I thrust into her. She pants and moans, the sound so fucking erotic it threatens my restraint.
Winding my arm around her waist to keep her steady, I snake my other hand between the wall and her back to grip the back of her neck. She bites her bottom lip as I heave into her, my drives becoming savage. Her thighs start constricting around me, and she’s frantic for my mouth.
She’s on the edge of her sanity. By my hair, she brings me to her lips for a sloppy, chaotic kiss.
“Lose yourself, baby.” I rip my mouth from hers and grind out. “I need to hear it.”
I drive my hips forward, tightening my grip around her neck as leverage, and embed myself deeper into her.
It’s her undoing. She rips her mouth away. “Ryker…” she gasps to the ceiling.
A searing need torches my skin and erupts from deep within my gut as I’m met with my own release. I surge, burying my dick in short juts as I spill into her while begging my legs not to give out from under me.
“Fuck,” I hiss as I cling to reality and the wall, bucking like a fucking virgin.
We slow, and I softly kiss her neck, resting my head in the crook of her shoulder. Her pulse is rapid against my face.
I’m hyperaware of my surroundings as we step into Midway’s Sports Bar. TVs line the walls and sit atop the bar located in the middle of the room. It’s fucking obvious why I tend to stray away from places like this.
Candice waves like an idiot from a table in the back. My focus is on one thing—the phenomenal ass I’m following to the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I’m fully conscious of the group of guys eyeing us as we pass by. You’d think with a bombshell of a woman strutting in front of me, they’d pay attention to her, but all eyes are on me.
The waitress makes her way to us as we sit at the round table, her green eyes eating me alive. Before Whitney, this used to play with my ego. Before Whitney, the woman eyeing me ever-so-dreamily might have caught my attention enough to explore what the night held. But since Whitney, no one holds a fucking candle to what I hold every night. There’s no comparison to Whit.
Fuck. I sound like a fucking pussy.
“What can I get y’all to drink?” the waitress asks, keeping her gaze on me.
Even though Whitney knows I’m all hers, the women fawning over me irks the shit out of her. I smile at Whit as she orders her pretty little drink, and when it’s my time, I keep my gaze on my girl and rattle off a beer. I’ll work it off later.
Just as the waitress hurries off, Whitney arches a brow and tilts her head. “You know you don’t have to keep doing that, right?”
“Doing what? What are we doing?” Candice leans on the table.
“She doesn’t like when I claim her,” I say nonchalantly.
“That’s not true,” Whit says in a hushed squeal.
It’s my turn for my brow to jump high and I only respond with a satisfied smirk.
“You two are disgusting.” Candice purses her lips. “All lovey-dovey. Puke.” She giggles.
The waitress sets our drinks down and after we order our food, Candice and Whit take over the conversation. They discuss the exchange of Whit’s house into Candice’s hands. To look at Candice, you’d never think the girl had a business side to her. Her blonde hair is tight with spiraling coils, her eyes large, round and green sitting on a small round face. My first impression of her wasn’t very high until she opened her educated mouth.
The guys at the other table begin making their way to us just as the waitress takes off with our empty plates. I shift my view to Whit. She’s never been with me when I’m spotted and surrounded by fans.
The dark headed, youngest looking one, saunters in the center as the other two, both with blond hair flank his sides. “I knew it was you. I’d recognize the Striker anywhere. Dude, I can’t believe you’re right here.” He’s overzealous in his approach.
I look up at him. “I prefer Ryker outside of the cage.”
Blond surfer punk behind him takes a long look around the table before settling his view on Whit and points. “I’ve seen you in pictures on the Internet.” He glances back to me. “Dude, you pick the hottest, don’t you? She’s banging.”
I clench my jaw. “Don’t be a disrespectful fuck.”
Satisfied angry eyes smile back at me. “Not like you give a damn. You can have her replaced with a snap of a finger.”
Red flickers and I begin to stand. Whit places her hand on top of mine, halting my predatory urge.
The dark headed guy shoves him in the chest. “Dude. Seriously? Shut the fuck up.” When he spins back to me, he puts his hand out for me to shake. “I’m Carter. Ignore Kurt and Elliot here.” He points to each man.
I shake his hand.
“I’ve followed you since your fight against Emanuel,” he tells me proudly.
It surprises a laugh from me. “That was almost seven years ago.”
He pats his chest and beams. “That fight instantly made me your most diehard fan. That spinning roundhouse to the head? Man, that was the best fucking ending I’ve ever seen.”
I smile at the memory. That was the luckiest and riskiest thing I’ve ever done during a fight. Coming in like a fucking macho ass with everything to prove, I was too inexperienced. If Emanuel hadn’t been exactly where he was, he more than likely would have knocked me the fuck out.
Again, I got lucky.
“So what brings you to a place like this?” Carter asks.
I smirk at Whit. “My girl was hungry.”
Elliot, the other guy, puffs a displeased chuckle. “You’d think you’d take her somewhere better than this place. Is she not worth your money?”
He grabs my attention by the horns, and I grin like the fucking devil. “I’ve got to be missing the reason why anyone would want to hang out with you.”
“You’re a dickhead,” Elliot states.
Before I can smart off anything, Carter slams his palms into Elliot’s chest, shoving him away from the table. “Don’t fuck this up for me. Go back to the table.”
The greasy headed fucker has a chip on his shoulder.
“You here with your girl?” I ask, tipping my chin to Elliot.
He puffs up his wanna-be chest. “Nah, man. I don’t need a girl,” he says, his tone proud and acerbic.
I lean back. “You don’t need a girl or they’re all smart enough to steer clear from you?” My tone drips with a spiteful sarcasm.
He narrows his eyes, drawing his brows down low in a warning.
Like I give a damn…
I arch my brow and smirk.
Both disrespectful fucknuts, Kurt and Elliot, scowl at me.
Carter’s eyes are begging me for forgiveness. “They’re Leveler fans.”
I nod. “Explains it.”
“You don’t deserve another chance in the ring,” Elliot spits.
“He was the end of you,” Kurt adds.
“Thankfully, the smarts aren’t left up to you two,” I state.
It’s Carter’s last straw and he shoves them both back away from the table. Hushed words are exchanged as Carter pushes them back, pointing to their table behind them. Eventually, the knuckleheads comply and leave.
Carter takes a deep breath and turns to me, his expression saturated with a million apologies. “I’m really sorry. You should be around when we’re watching the fights. Elliot’s intensely passionate…or passionately intense. Either way, his rocker broke years ago.” He tries joking through his aggravation.
I take the kid in. His brown hair with blond highlights is a tousled mess. The skin on his face is smooth like he’s never been in a fight in his life. He can’t be a day over eighteen. He’s scrawny and tall with legs like stilts holding up a bird cage.
“I’m surprised I’m not drooling all over you.” His brown eyes spring wide and he raises his hand up. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes out. “I mean…I’ve just been a fan for a long time and you’re right here in front of me.”
I chuckle at him stumbling.
He smiles. “I didn’t mean to bother you. When I saw you, I just wanted to say hello. It was nice meeting you,” he says sounding a bit abashed and turns to walk away.
“Wait,” Whit rushes out. I glance to her and she shrugs, looking innocently sympathetic. “Come join us for a few minutes.”
My girl…huge ass heart.
Shock splatters Carters face. “You sure? I don’t want to impose.”
“Yes, we’re sure.” Whit gives me a pointed glare. “Sit.”
He sits and wipes his palms nervously on his jeans. “I can’t believe I’m sitting at the same table as the Striker,” he mumbles to himself. “My friends won’t believe this.”
“If they’re anything like those fuckheads, I wouldn’t care what your friends believe,” I say.
“They’re not all like those two,” he states. “I don’t even know why Elliot asked me to come today. I can’t fucking drink for another few months.”
“You’re a young buck,” Candice says. “You live around here?”
“Garden Park apartments,” he informs us.
“Those are nice, high class apartments. You must have a good job,” Candice eyes him.
Carter chuckles. “It’s good enough if you think paycheck to paycheck is something of luxury.”
Candice flicks her hand at him. “At twenty, I was a struggling mess.”
“That’s because you blew it partying all the time,” Whit adds.
“How I chose to blow my money isn’t up for discussion.” Candice laughs looking back to Carter. “Why not move in with your parents until there’s a cushion between paychecks?”
Carter shrugs. “My stepdad won’t let me set foot on his property. I spotted how much of a greedy asshole he was from the beginning and tried talking my mom out of dating him. But he ended up talking my mom right into marrying him. I wish she’d get away from the manipulative asshole.”
“What about your real dad?” Candice asks and then takes a sip of her peach-colored drink.
I watch as storm clouds shroud his thoughts. “He left mom when I was a baby and never looked back.”
“I’m sorry,” Candice says heavy-heartedly.
I blame Whitney for my next words. Her and her damn heart of gold I admire so fucking dearly. “You should stop by my gym some time. I could use some help. It’ll give you a few extra dollars in your pocket.”
Carter’s wide brown eyes blink to me. “Your gym?”
I nod. “Yeah. RingSide.”
“Seriously? Dude, I pass by that place daily,” he exclaims.
“Now you know it’s his, you should stop in,” Whit says. “It’s really nice.”
The strands on top of his head bob back and forth. “Does it look like I’ve ever stepped foot in a gym?”
“Everyone starts somewhere,” I say pulling out a RingSide card from my wallet. Whitney’s a step ahead of me and tosses a pen at me with a small smile. I sign the back of it for proof to his friends and hand it to him. “Stop in sometime and we’ll work on that bird cage of yours.”
He laughs. “I know you said it’s yours, but do you work out there?”
Whitney cackles. “All the time.”
“If I have a fight, I’m there every day for too many hours to count. If it’s between matches, I’m only there in the mornings,” I explain.
He looks down and drags his thumb over my name before smiling widely at me. “You’ve got Parsons coming up.”
“I do,” I reply.
“I think you could beat him with one of your arms tied behind your back. He’s got a weak left hand.”
“You’re not looking close enough,” I tell him. “It’s not always soft.”
He looks back to his eyeballing pricks of friends and sighs. “I need to get back to them since I rode with them.” The words have no inflection. He stands. “I’m really glad I got to meet you. You’re not exactly what I expected.”
The statement causes my brows to raise a notch. “Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?”
He laughs. “Compliment, man. I figured you’d be an asshole. Turns out you’re pretty fucking cool. Kick Parsons’ ass and get into the pros. You’re going to own that place.” He switches his view to Whit and Candice. “It was nice meeting you. Thanks for allowing me to steal his time.”
He strolls off.
“He was a sweet kid,” Whit says.
“I found him hot as hell until he said his age. I need to be lassoed, not the one teaching the ropes,” Candice says.
Whitney digs her fingers into her forehead. “God, there’s no hope for you,” she snickers.
“Even if there were, hold on to it. I’m having some dangerous withdrawals from good lays,” Candice says.
I chuckle. “You remind me of talking to my brother.”
“Maybe he and I should talk together.” She air-quotes the word talk. “Does he know how to hold the reigns?”
Whitney snaps her head to Candice. “Nope. Off limits. You and Kyce are not happening.”
I drop my head back and laugh.
“He and I will be like Mentos and Diet Coke. He’ll drop his mento in me and I’ll explode,” Candice can barely say through her laughter.
Whitney’s lips are twitching to laugh. She’s doing a damn good job holding it together considering Candice and I are in fucking stitches.
“You’re disgusting,” Whitney’s voice quakes as she continues to refrain from laughing.
“You love me,” Candice replies with sass.