I’m lost to the throes of bliss, his words barely registering as I ride out the waves of pleasure. His hips stutter, the heat of his release bursting across my skin, painting my inner thighs. He groans as he holds me tight against him, hands gripping like he’ll never let go.
When he does, everything is a blur of raw nerves and ragged breaths as I collapse forward, my sweaty skin meeting the cool bedsheets. The sudden absence of his touch is jarring, punctuated by the sound of his footsteps receding. I hold my breath, wondering if he’s about to leave me here like this, trembling and sticky with his cum.
He returns a heartbeat later, gripping my hip and rolling me onto my back. Knocking my thighs apart, he lifts his phone, the camera flash blinding me as he snaps a picture of me splayed out on the bed in my black lingerie, painted in his release.
“Hey!” I object, jerking upright.
“A mental picture isn’t enough,” he says with a low chuckle, tossing his phone aside. He’s got a white hand towel clutched in his grip, and he leans over to swipe it against my skin, cleaning the mess between my thighs.
“You need to delete that,” I rasp, knowing full well that it’s futile. He’s still got the video of me from the loft. I’m just giving him more ammo for his arsenal, handing over more weapons for him to destroy me with.
He smirks back at me, tossing the soiled towel onto his father’s pristine pillow. A perfect little parting gift for the man he seems to despise so much.
Though now that I’ve met him, I kinda see why.
“Let’s go, Ava baby,” Ford barks, pulling me up off the bed and delivering a harsh slap to my ass.
I yelp, skittering away from him with wide eyes. “What? I can’t go back down there after that!” I choke, my voice strained.
He smirks, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Nah, we’re done here,” he drawls, stooping to swipe my dress up off the floor and handing it over. He levels me with a stare, our fingers brushing as I take it from him. “We’re going home.”
CHAPTER 45
RAF
I’ve gotEminem blasting in my ears, but it’s still not enough to drown out the sound of Ford’s laughter or Ava’s high-pitched giggle from the back seat. My forehead is pressed to the cold glass of the passenger window as I try to get in the fucking zone, but it’s impossible with the way those two are all over each other back there, flirting like they’re on a date.
Oh wait, they just were last night.
I try to shove the thought away, focus on the music, clear my mind– but then Ford murmurs something in her ear and she laughs again, way too loud, like she’s doing it just to piss me off. Wes glances back at them in the rearview mirror and a smirk pulls at his mouth, like he’s in on the joke.
My hands curl into fists on my lap, shadows bleeding into the edges of my vision.
This shit has gone way too far. The guys have gone soft on Ava, forgetting why we pulled her into our orbit in the first place. She should be cowering in fear of us, not sitting back there looking all cute and tipsy, glassy-eyed from the whiskey she’s been sharing with Ford and bouncing along with the music Wes plays. She’s getting way too comfortable with my friends, andvice versa. They’re reaping all the benefits of her being our Doll, while I’m slowly descending into madness.
I never should’ve let them talk me into bringing her along tonight.
I’ve been itching for this fight, and I’m gonna blow it if I can’t get my head on straight. The closer we get to the warehouse, the more focused I should be, but having her there with us is throwing everything out of sync.
Ford says something and she covers her mouth, trying to keep her laugh contained, but it bursts out and fills the car. I grip the door handle, squeezing it until my knuckles turn white.
In for three. Out for four.Just fucking breathe.
The vehicle bounces against the potholes as we pull into the parking lot, and I can’t take it anymore, throwing the door open before we’ve even rolled to a complete stop. I sling my duffel over my shoulder and slam it behind me, the soles of my boots chewing up the asphalt as I stalk toward the entrance to the warehouse.
The bouncer looks up when he sees me coming, lifting his chin in acknowledgement. “Raf,” he greets, quickly stepping aside to allow me entry. “Hope you’re here to win, I’ve got my money on you tonight.”
I just grunt in response, brushing past him and making my way inside. The atmosphere in the warehouse is gritty and raw, music thumping, crowd already roaring. I sink into the seedy ambiance, allowing the wild energy to wrap around me while trying to shake off all the bullshit from the ride over. A few people call my name, trying to capture my attention as I make my way to the locker room, but I ignore them all. I need to focus.
Pushing through the door, the smell of sweat and mildew hits my nose, disgustingly familiar and oddly grounding. The locker rooms here aren’t much, but at least I can seal myself off from the chaos outside. I drop my bag on the bench and start to getchanged, still struggling to get in the right headspace for my fight. The guy I’m up against is some thick-necked brute named Chaz, and while I’ve never fought him before, I’ve gone up against plenty of guys just like him. Every fighter thinks they’re special, their moves unique, but they all bleed the same.
My mind gradually starts to clear, and by the time I start taping my knuckles, I feel like I’m almost fully in the zone. Wes comes in, all business as he looks me over like he’s taking inventory. “He’s got fifty pounds on you,” he states. “Stay quick on your feet, wear him down.”
I nod, listening, starting to see the fight in my head.
“Keep your distance,” Wes adds. “He’s going to try and get you in a grapple, throw his weight around.”
"Got it," I say, pushing to my feet and rolling my neck on my shoulders. The shadows lift just a little, and the world around me feels sharp and focused for the first time all night. “I’m good.”
