Her Tattooed Fighter Read online

  Before the fighter could right himself London was on him, wrapping his arms around his neck like a vise, and tightening his hold until his airway was cut off and he gasped for air. London reached down and delivered a series of short but effective hits to the guy’s side, but had to stop and block a few. He felt his opponent growing tired, and that was when he did the takedown. Bending and wrapping his arms around the guy’s thighs, he used all of his strength to lift him into the air, and then slammed him onto his back on the filthy mat. He was on him a second later, tightening his thighs around his upper body and twisting so he had him in an armbar. It only took a few seconds for the fighter to slam his open hand down on London’s thigh, signaling his tap-out.

  London rolled off of him and stood. He breathed heavily and looked out at the crowd. The only thing separating him and the hundreds of people that had come to watch some bare-knuckle fighting was the crudely made cage in the center of the decaying basement. The right side of his face throbbed from the two punches the other guy managed to land on him, and he might have a few bruised ribs, but other than that he was feeling fucking good from the endorphins and adrenalin moving at a rapid pace through his system. He needed to find a female to fuck, to help him let off the rest of the steam and energy coursing through him, and he needed a good, hard drink. A blonde was eye fucking him to his left, but the color of her hair reminded him too much of Sunny. No way was he going to even go there, because even if he was an asshole, he wasn’t a bastard. A brunette caught his attention. She looked nothing like who he really wanted, not with her bobbed dark hair and stick thin figure. Shit, even with her smirking at him and throwing off all kinds of come-hither vibes, all he could think about was Sunny.

  No, push those fucking thoughts right out of your mind.

  London climbed out of the ring, ignored the way the hollering of the crowd around him intensified once he was on the main ground, and walked right to the brunette. She was a Chaser, a chick that hung around the underground fights in hopes of picking up a fighter. Some fighters steered clear of Chasers, because all they were after was the spotlight of being with a champion, and the money that came with that title. Clearly London wasn’t one of the guys who stayed away. He eyed the chick up and down. She was a bit skinny for his taste, but he just wanted a quick fuck, and there was no doubt she was willing. Ross, one of the organizers of the underground circuit, came up to him and slapped him on the back goodheartedly.

  “Good fight. Good fight.” He shoved a dark envelope and London’s duffle at his chest and leaned in close to his ear. “I’ll have Bernard hit you up later in the week. We got a live one coming in, asking specifically to go head-to-head with you.” This piqued London’s interest.

  “Yeah?” London wasn’t a stranger to the happenings of underground fighting. That was how he made his living, and the five grand he knew was in the envelope he held against his chest was a testament to that. But he didn’t just do it for the money. He liked facing off with another guy, throwing hits and occasionally letting his opponent land a few on him. The pain made him feel alive and juiced him up for more. Maybe he was a masochist and sadist all rolled into one?

  “Yeah, apparently he’s seen you fight back in your home town and wants a go at ya. The guy’s a beast and known as ‘The Lion’ in the circuit.” This certainly had London interested. Although he hadn’t heard of this fighter before because frankly there were just too many newcomers onto the scene to keep up with, he did love a challenge, especially when they asked to fight him specifically. Occasionally they allowed guys from the street into the ring, ones that were cocky bastards and thought they were tough enough to hang with the big boys. More times than not they didn’t last one round. “Listen, we’ll be in touch. Good fight, man.” Ross slapped him on the back once more before disappearing into the thick of the crowd.

  London turned his attention back to the brunette. He didn’t say anything, just tilted his head to the side, practically smelled her pussy getting wet, and reached out to take her hand. The people parted for him, and he quickly made his way to the back of the warehouse. There were a few rooms in the corner, but there wasn’t anything clean or respectable about the places he fought. He pushed one of the heavy, scarred doors open and pulled her inside. The sound of the metal slamming shut resonated through the whole room, causing his ears to ring.

  “You were so hot—”

  “Shh, that’s not why we came back here, yeah?” He turned and looked at her, but could just barely make out her face through the thick darkness that surrounded them. The light from the main room spilled over the top of the makeshift wall that created smaller rooms throughout the warehouse.

  Her breathing hitched at his coarse question. “No, I guess it wasn’t.” He could be an asshole, but they both knew she was after his dick just the same as he wanted what was between her thighs. His cock started to harden, and he spun her around, pressing her against the wall and reaching between their bodies to push his shorts down. He could have taken her somewhere else, cleaned himself off, and possibly been a gentleman about the whole thing, but he wasn’t about to play games, and he knew neither was she. The skirt she wore was short as fuck, and he easily slid it up her thighs and over her ass. Of course she wasn’t wearing any panties. He moved away just long enough to grab a condom from his duffle, tear it open, and roll it on his shaft.

  “I’ve been watching all your fights. I just love how ruthless you are in the ring,” she said a little breathlessly. He moved close to her again, gripped her too thin waist, cocked her ass out, and aligned himself at her pussy. He didn’t bother answering her. “I’m so fucking hot for you. Come on, London—”

  “Stop.” That one word came out of him clipped, but fortunately she didn’t continue. He just wanted to fuck, wanted these few moments of pleasure, and then that would be it. He hated the fact she was saying his name. Yeah, he was a bastard. In one move he was buried inside of her. This would be quick because he didn’t want it any other way. Ten minutes later he was groaning out his orgasm at the same time she was crying out her second one. He pulled out, ripped the condom off and tied it off before tossing it aside to land with the other debris and trash that surrounded them. The girl, whose name he hadn’t even bothered to get, pulled her skirt down and turned to look at him. Guilt slammed into him, as well as a healthy dose of self-disgust. It was the norm after he did these backroom fucks.

  “What’s your name?”

  She perked up, and her smile grew, which only made him feel even shittier.

  “Becky Thad.” She took a step closer, and he could see her unnaturally white teeth flash in the darkness. “I swear I’ve seen all your fights. You’re just amazing.” Now he was regretting even starting this conversation. He really didn’t want her thinking that he was after more than what they had just done. It had happened in the past where a female he fucked thought they were in some kind of relationship, and he had felt like a major douche when he had to set her straight. Of course being surrounded by this breed of female came with the territory, and he was probably the only fighter that had “buyer’s remorse”.

  “That’s great,” he said absently and bent down to grab a tee from his bag. After he slipped it on, he turned back around and saw that she was still staring at him. “All right, well.” Shit, this was an awkward moment, and always was. “I’ll see yeah around, Becky.” He smiled, hoping to soften the blow over the fact he just wanted to get the fuck out of there.

  He didn’t miss the disappointed look that quickly crossed her face, but she schooled it and smiled. “Yeah, I’ll see you around, London.”

  He tipped his chin in her direction and opened the rusty door. Light spilled in, and the sound of shouting and flesh hitting flesh intensified. He glanced over his shoulder at Becky and stepped to the side. He could be a gentleman, at times. She smiled brightly again and made her way past him and into the arena.

  London walked passed her and everyone else, and he didn’t look around until he was outsi
de and by his bike. Putting his helmet on and starting the engine, he loved the feel of his Harley right beneath him, vibrating with life. It took him forty-five minutes to get to his house. Once inside he went into the bathroom for a shower, made it as hot as he could stand, and got in. London scrubbed himself until his flesh was raw, but still he felt filthy. It was always the same dirty feeling that filled him, yet he continued on this path. It was self-destruction, and time and time again he questioned himself on why he put himself through this. If he just cut the shit out he wouldn’t have to feel this way afterward, but there was no way he could stop. London couldn’t stop fighting; he couldn’t stop having this restless energy inside of him, and he couldn’t stop letting that energy out with a willing female. It was a never–ending, vicious cycle, of adrenalin, endorphins, euphoria, and then a downward fall to darkness.

  Steam rose around him quickly, and he braced one forearm against the tiled wall and rested his head on it. Closing his eyes, all he could picture was Sunny, like a bright light washing away the disgusting darkness he bathed himself in. When he first moved to Absinthe with his friend and fellow fighter Brock, he never imagined himself falling so hard for a female so quickly. Brock was ruthless, and London had never thought it possible that Brock could settle down, but it was clear when it came to Izzy he would have moved heaven and earth just to please her. He may give Brock a hard time, calling him out on being pussy-whipped and losing some of his edge, but deep down London wanted that. He wanted to have a girl to protect, one that he could be himself around, hold at night, and not have to keep up this image of being an undefeated fighter that fucked around with nameless women and didn’t give a shit about anything.

  He liked what he did and how he made his living, but he also wanted to come home to something that was not stillness and shadows. What was the point of having money, a nice house, and land to enjoy, when he was alone? Fuck, he wanted Sunny, but Mack was right, that fucker. She was far too good for him. Here he was, taking random women up against dirty walls, the same way he did the majority of the time, and wanting to beat the shit out of himself because of it.

  Sunny, with her long golden hair just brushing the top of her apple-shaped ass, her very blue eyes that almost seemed unreal when the light touched them, and her killer fucking body that was so curvy it was made for a man, for him, had London harder than he had ever been. But it wasn’t just that she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. Sunny was smart as fuck, had even gone to school for business and helped Harlond with the books. She had it all going on, and that was why he needed to stay away from her.

  London grabbed his cock and squeezed himself at the base. He was hard again, and just from thinking about her. He felt the familiar rise of frantic energy inside of him, the kind that was only extinguished with a hard fuck or a good fist-fight. He would not be doing any of that now. It was too late, he was too fucking tired, and he just wanted to crash. He started stroking himself, trying to relieve the pressure in his cock and balls, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. But it felt damn good, especially when he imagined that he had Sunny pressed against the shower wall, his dick buried deep inside of her, and her straight, white teeth digging into his shoulder as she tried not to cry out from the intensity of it all. He groaned out his orgasm, but it was empty pleasure, and his dick was still hard.

  “Shit.” Scrubbing a hand over his face and shutting off the water, he was ready for this night to end. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist, and stood in front of the sink. The mirror was fogged up, and he ran his hand over it. His face looked haggard, and the evidence from his earlier fight stood out against his freshly washed skin. His lip was cut on the side, as was his right eyebrow, and a bruise was starting to form along his left cheek. They hurt like a bitch, but it was what it was. He was in need of a shave, but he was too tired for even that. Maybe he should go get some ink, let the feel of the needle going into him add a little pain to his system? Tomorrow was another day of lusting after the trainer’s daughter, which only meant he’d bust his ass harder in the ring trying to numb his feelings with punches and kicks.

  Chapter Three

  Sunny sat behind her father’s old steel desk in the gym and went over his books. She had gone to school for this, loved the aspect of business at all angles, but eventually wanted to branch off. The gym and everything it entailed had always been a part of her life. She loved it, but wanted something else, something that wasn’t about fighting and testosterone. She balanced the account book, but the sound of the door opening had her lifting her head from the numbers she was crunching. She expected her father or even Mack to come in and check on her. She’d been at this for the last couple of hours, but to her surprise it was London. Embarrassment flooded her at the feeling of her wetness between her legs. She was sick, had to have a screw loose in her head to have this kind of ridiculous and intense reaction to a guy just from looking at him. He was sweaty, and she found the sight highly erotic. His short blond hair was plastered to his forehead, and his bare chest showed beads of sweat trailing down the hard, wide expanse. The florescent lighting had the colorful tattoos that covered his arms looking like they glowed.

  “Hey, Sunny.” His voice was deep, and the way he said her name had her thinking of all kinds of things she shouldn’t be … again. Before she could answer he was talking again. “Thought Harlond was in here.”

  “Oh, yeah, no.” She felt her face heat at her response. He lifted his arm and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Sunny was transfixed by the way his muscles bunched and flexed just from doing such a small act. Clearing her throat, she said, “I can let him know you need to see him if I run into him, or I can try his cell.”

  He looked over his shoulder at the main floor, and the sounds of fighters working out filtered into the room. Despite her better judgment she let her eyes travel down his chest, over his abdomen to where massive ridges lie right below the surface of his golden skin, and to the hard, defined V of muscle that pointed right below his low hanging track shorts. God, she so wanted him. When she lifted her eyes back to his face she instantly felt her neck heat and that warmth move all the way up her cheeks once again. He was staring at her, and by his expression there was no doubt in her mind that he had seen exactly how hard she had been looking at him. For a heartbeat all they did was stare at each other, but slowly the corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. Dammit, he found the whole thing humorous, which was the furthest thing from her mind, and only enhanced her humiliation.

  “Nah, it’s cool. I’ll just see him when I see him. It wasn’t anything important.” He watched her silently, and she couldn’t help but shift under his appraisal. After what seemed like a very uncomfortably long moment of silence, he finally spoke again. “Listen, a bunch of the guys are having a little get-together over at Taylor’s place tonight. It’s not really anything big, but you’re more than welcome to come hang with us.” She would have been elated to go and spend time with them, well, London more so than the rest, but the way he said it, almost like she was one of the guys, had disappointment filling her. She really should just be thankful he was inviting her. That’s how desperate and hot she was to have him, and how sad was that?

  “Is my dad going to be there?” Why was she contemplating this?

  His smile was instant. “Do you really think Harlond would approve of us getting drunk or having his daughter there to join in that kind of fun? You know as well as me that he’d have our balls on silver platters.” This was true, so it had her wondering why he was inviting her if her father’s wrath was promised if he found out. “Even if you weren’t coming Harlond isn’t all about us drinking, even if some of us don’t stick to our regimen.” He pushed off the doorframe but didn’t make any move to come closer. “Listen, no pressure, Sunny. I see you every day working the floor, making sure we are all taken care of, and then coming back here and doing the books. You need to let loose with the guys just like we do.”

  He smiled again,
and her heart dropped. Just like one of the guys. Yeah, that’s clearly how he saw her, and she didn’t know what was worse: going unnoticed by him, or considered one of the guys. There had actually been a few times she thought when she caught him staring at her, thought that he may have felt the same kind of attraction she had. But clearly she had been wrong, and had let her desire for him cloud her common sense. “You know where Taylor lives?” It took her a moment to respond, but she finally nodded. “All right, if you decide you want to you can come on over about nine. Taylor’s grilling out, and there will be beer, unless you don’t want that. I can pick up something else if you’d like.” She didn’t know what to say, so she just smiled awkwardly. This was London, the guy she had been lusting after for longer than she wanted to admit, and he wanted to hang out with her … as a friend. “You have my number, yeah?” She nodded. She had everyone’s number who worked out at the training center, what with dealing with the books and her needing to know who was here. “Good. If you decide to come just shoot me a text.” He turned to leave, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I’d love it if you came, Sunny.”

  And with that and one of his sexy as hell lopsided smiles, he left her alone, with fire racing through her body.

  ****

  He was a fucking fool. A big fucking fool for inviting Sunny over to Taylor’s. It was just going to be a bunch of the guys from the center, and maybe even a few girls they brought along, but for some dumbass reason London had invited the trainer’s daughter. When he had seen her sitting behind that desk, her blonde hair swept up in a messy bun, her V-neck tee gaping slightly and showing him a glimpse of the creamy swells of her breasts, all common sense had vanished. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her at the party, because he did, pretty fucking bad. It was more of the fact that he was playing with fire, and would get burned. That wasn’t even a question.