THE PRETTY AN ALPHA MMA PARANORMAL ROMANCE
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DARLENE JACOBS
CONTENTS Copyright Foreword ALPHA MMA PARANORMAL SERIES STEPBROTHER ROMANCE SERIES Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15
Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Want More? Coming Soon… Special Thanks Free Bonus Bonus Read Holiday Romance About the Author
Copyright © 2015 by Darlene Jacobs All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
FOREWORD
here is no man he can't beat, and T no woman he can't bed.
Meet Bad Boy Roman; also known as,
THE PRETTY.
A light-heavyweight MMA fighter known for his crippling blows in the ring, Roman got his nickname, The Pretty, for dominating the ring without a scratch to his face.
Roman has a following of men who want to bask in his presence, and women who only want a piece of The Pretty...
...the highly endowed piece.
What Roman wants, Roman gets.
That is until secretive, curvy-sensation, Tuesday came along. An Ivy Leaguer who has taken over the gym management after her uncle's passing. Her tastes are platinum, standards high, her secrets, many.
The Pretty assumes Tuesday will be just another easy lay. He thought wrong. This one is a 'tough to impress' bitch, and that makes him want her even more.
Finally, a crack in her stone-cold veneer gives Roman hope.
But what happens next defies the laws of the universe and the of love and lust.
This is Book 1 of a 3 Part Series. Mature Audience. Book 1: The Pretty Book 2: The Broken Book 3: The Rising
ALPHA MMA PARANORMAL SERIES
This is book 1 of a 3 book series.
Visit Darlene’s Amazon Author Page For New Releases
STEPBROTHER ROMANCE SERIES
Read another erom series starting with Book 1: SUICIDE: A Stepbrother Romance (CLICK ON IMAGE to be taken to Amazon)
PREFACE
If you enjoy this story, why not continue the series with THE BROKEN?
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CHAPTER ONE
ometimes you fight your entire life S seeking that perfect love. But once you get it, it’s taken away as quietly as it came.
The fighters step out of their corners for this third and final UFC light heavyweight championship title round.
The Pretty is looking every bit the champion he is. At two hundred and four pounds, his solid physique is imposing to anyone who crosses his path; if they admit it.
The Pretty is also tattoo-free as he refuses to cover any inch of his wellchiseled physique with anything other than a woman.
The bout is one of ten on the card tonight. The Pretty is up by four points at fifty-six. He has scored perfect tens from all three judges in the past two rounds.
However, the Referee deducts points in the prior two rounds for what he calls holding and fish hooking. Total bullshit in the opinions of the crowd of thousands who shout profanities at the Referee to rattle him.
The Pretty’s opponent, Lucky Lewis, catches a few “lucky breaks.” Bookies give him 100 to 1 odds that he would
make it to the third and final round against, The Pretty.
Lucky barely ranks as the number five player and fell into this championship bout with some assistance from an unscrupulous source. This corrupt source also has deep pockets and influence inside and outside the ring.
The original fighter, The Dragon, was the one to beat. However, with his recent injuries, doctors have ordered him not to compete in this title bout. The injuries left Lucky Lewis to slide into his spot.
But the odds-makers may lose big time as they lack insider information that will cost them. Lucky misses three swings as The Pretty’s lightning quick agility saves him from impact.
However, Lucky pretends to slip as The Pretty takes advantage of the fall and lands on top of him with a body slam. The Pretty wraps his body around Lucky as he uses a Roman Gecko signature move of his and slides Lucky over to the fence once again. However, Lucky twists out and conceals a rabbit punch to the
base of The Pretty’s skull.
The Referee apparently doesn’t see the banned technique that should have disqualified Lucky, so he allows the fight to continue.
A blow like this can typically knock a player out, and possibly send them to an early grave. But The Pretty manages to rise to his feet.
Tuesday is use to brutal fights between men in cages and knows The Pretty can
handle himself, but this is different. She recognizes the illegal blow and jumps from her seat and charges towards the ringside Doctor. Unfortunately, she is stopped by Security.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” A Security Officer bellows, “Please take your seat.”
“Didn’t you see that?” Tuesday responds in a hyper state of agitation.
The Security Officer shakes his head and blocks her from going any farther.
From The Pretty’s corner, Al sees the illegal blow and gestures to The Pretty as to what to do. However, Roman waves him off as per The Pretty’s demands.
The Pretty refuses to allow a single punch to take him down, even if it’s an illegal one.
Officials, the Cornerman, everyone running the bout say The Pretty just looks tired but Tuesday knows otherwise.
They all miss crucial moments where they should intervene to help, The Pretty.
The second sign of trouble comes towards the middle of this final round. The Pretty slightly staggers after he lands a Muay Thai short-range strike.
Tuesday recognizes his stagger as a gait disturbance, evidence of his changing condition. Why haven’t the referee or officials, or the coaches stopped the bout, Tuesday wonders?
The Pretty takes a jab and a leg kick from Lucky. The Referee reprimands Lucky for an illegal groin kick. Lucky’s back faces The Pretty as he stumbles. He doesn’t have his feet under him at this point.
Anyone who has been around UFC and seen a handful of games knows this is not exhaustion but a lack of coordination. Unfortunately, this is the first indication of a deteriorating fighter.
As the fight progresses, The Pretty’s feet cross, which puts him in a vulnerable
position.
The ringside Doctor glances up at The Pretty and Lucky and ignores all the warning signals before he returns to texting. He takes his eyes completely off the fighters at a time when he should monitor them closely.
The Pretty is on the ropes as Lucky lands an uppercut. The Referee steps in and asks The Pretty if he wants to continue.
“Hell yeah,” The Pretty manages as he
staggers back to his feet and into the center of the ring to confront Lucky.
From the sidelines, Tuesday shouts to the Referee, “Do a standing eight count.” However, her words are ignored. Or perhaps they are drowned out by the crowd.
Tuesday pushes her way towards the three judges before Security notices. Tuesday grabs the shoulder a Judge and asks, “Why in the hell is the Referee even in the ring if he’s not going to protect the safety of the fighters? You
saw that illegal blow, why are you letting this continue?”
The Judge gestures for Security to take her away.
The bell sounds as both fighters return to their corners. The Pretty grabs hold of the cage to steady himself but is unsuccessful. He loses his balance as Al catches him.
The ringside Doctor again, glances into both corners, then returns to texting on
his cell phone.
Al holds up The Pretty by his neck and shoulders as the Timekeeper taps the Doctor on his shoulder to get his attention.
Somethings not right. Roman catches a glimpse of Tuesday before he collapses.
CHAPTER TWO
hat a first-rate fuck. That’s all that’s W goes through The Pretty’s mind as he bangs one of his groupies in the alley outside the gym.
“Roman, that’s your real name, right?” the ginger with big tits asks as The Pretty ejaculates inside her.
Roman; a name that befits a modern-day gladiator, with a head chiseled in granite, chest and arms of steel, cock made of iron and thighs as strong as titanium.
Roman shoves his prick back inside his pants and zips up. He searches the ground for her panties. He locates them behind the garbage can; where they landed when he ripped them off of her
and tossed them.
Roman kicks the can aside and snaps up her underwear. “Do you still want these?” he asks.
The ginger pulls them slowly from between his fingers and stuff them into her coat pocket.
“How about dinner?” the ginger requests.
Roman grabs her by the waist, yanks her towards him. He pins her against the wall as he shoves his tongue down her throat. The ginger wraps her legs around his hips as he aggressively pushes his hand inside her blouse and tugs and squeezes her breasts.
Roman inserts three fingers into her mouth. The ginger sucks them as his fingers twirl around her tongue. Saliva saturates his fingers as he pulls them out one hole; and into another.
Her cunt pulsates with ripples of
pleasure as he spreads her labia and enters her with three fingers. The soft, pink walls of her pussy overflow with her juices and clench around his fingers.
The ginger moans and gyrates her hips front to back as he reaches for her gspot.
Al, The Pretty’s manager and striking instructor, turns the corner into the alley before the ginger reaches climax.
“Roman, you’re late,” he shouts.
Al is neither shocked nor surprised at what he witnesses. In fact, it’s not the first time he’s broken up one of Roman’s nasty little trysts in the alley.
Roman turns his head towards Al to acknowledge him before he taps the soft, g-spot with his index finger. The ginger convulses in ecstasy.
Roman allows her legs to drop to the ground and leans her back up against the brick wall.
“Call me?” she shouts as Roman follows Al into the gym.
“She’s in there,” Al spouts as he gestures to the office at the top of the stairs. A wall of glass allows management to look down and keep an eye on gym activity. However, today it also serves as an unexpected peep show.
The power cord to Tuesday’s computer dislodges and falls behind her desk. Tuesday hikes up her skirt to allow her to twist in just the right position to retrieve the cord from behind her desk.
The Pretty transfixes on her pale blue lace g-string that struggles to contain her thick, yet well-manicured bush. Still looking up, he walks closer to the window to get a quick glimpse of her pussy.
There it is. Beautiful. Pink. Luscious.
Roman adjusts his prick with his hand as it stiffens.
Tuesday grabs the power cord and stands upright. She uses both hands to shimmy her dress back down into place. She glances down and catches Roman in a dead stare.
However, neither are embarrassed.
The Pretty imagines what he would do to this woman. He pictures her bent over her executive chair at night, with the gstring pulled to the side to expose her pussy. He pictures biting her ass and licking her divider before he reaches her bloom where he sucks her juices out. He pictures ramming his dick into her warm, soft place as she screams for more.
He sees himself clutch her breasts while he pumps her from behind.
The Pretty decides that this woman up in that office will be his within the hour.
“Don’t get any ideas, Roman,” Al reprimands. She’s your new boss.”
Al has seen this look in Roman’s eyes before. It’s different than the looks he gives his easy lays; his groupies. No, this look means Roman sees her as a challenge, and a conquest that will be all the more sweeter than the others.
But as usual, Roman ignores Al’s advice. Roman glances back up at Tuesday until her eyes meet his once
again. Neither breaks the stare as The Pretty takes his time walking up the stairs to her office.
CHAPTER THREE
ithout a knock, The Pretty strolls W into Tuesday’s office.
Tuesday is a sight; especially for a
musky gym where men sweat by the bucket load.
A tall drink of water would describe Tuesday to a point. Roman watches her hand as it glides past her cheek to her slender neck where she adjusts her necklace.
Roman imagines what it would be like to touch her radiant skin at this very moment. Would it be cool to the touch, or blazing hot?
Her blouse is conservative, yet it clings to her ample breasts that hang slightly lower from a perky position, from their sheer weight. Her waist is taut and her ass abundant.
Tuesday’s ass ticks four of the five boxes for Roman as it has shape, circularity, bounce and firmness. As for the fifth? Texture; he could only check this box off after hiking her skirt above her hips, spinning her around and inspecting her ass with his mouth and index finger.
As for her legs, Roman will swear they reach the stars.
Yes, Tuesday fits Roman’s perfect calculations of an ideal woman.
“Next time, knock before you enter this office,” Tuesday barks at Roman.
Roman responds without his eyes leaving her chest, “That’s not how things work around here.”
Tuesday takes a seat at her desk and crosses her legs. Though she sits very lady-like, Roman salivates at the thickness of her thighs and the solid shapely calfs accentuated by her fiveinch heels.
Tuesday picks up and slams a book on the desk to get Roman’s attention on business, and off her.
“My uncle was a good and decent man. However, he was a broke son of a bitch because he allowed people to take advantage of him.”
Roman pipes in, “Are you saying I took advantage of Oscar?”
“Have a seat,” Tuesday says with authority. Roman takes a few moments before he obliges. He hops on the couch and swings his legs on top of the table in front of it.
Tuesday gets out of her chair and walks over to Roman where he pats the vacant spot next to him.
Tuesday bends over and uses her hand to swipe his feet off of the table. She then returns to her executive chair behind the desk.
Tuesday continues, “He died with only this business to his name; a business in the red with IOU’s a mile long. I’ll be changing all that. Starting today, every manager, every fighter, every groupie will have to pay their dues on a weekly basis.”
Roman stands to his feet, “Or what?”
Tuesday gives her ultimatum, ”Or they can find another gym to give them free handouts. It’s as simple as that.”
Roman walks around to the back of her desk. He’s in such close proximity to this woman, he can’t help but inhale her intoxicating scent; a scent that could easily be picked up by a breeze and carried several miles away. Her hormone-filled scent overwhelms and takes over his senses. He locks his knees in place to keep them from buckling.
Roman steps closer to the back wall and
studies the three diplomas Tuesday has already hung up. She has a BA in Economics from Berkley and a double master degrees; one in business from Wharton, and the other in finance, from Yale.
“One would be impressed if it weren’t for the fact that you ended up here,” Roman jabs.
Tuesday swivels around in her chair to face Roman. Her blouse has one unbuttoned notch that reveals a slight glimpse of cleavage. Oh, how he aches
to slip his finger down the hollow between her breasts and free them from their tortured existence.
“I’m here because of a promise I made to Oscar. But I won’t hang on to this place if it can’t be brought back into the black in 60 days. After that, I’m free to sell or close this place and start my own business.”
Roman sits on the edge of her desk with his legs spread wide enough apart for her to observe the insane bulge between his legs.
She notices alright, “Perhaps one of your groupies would be impressed by your endowment, however, to me it is neither impressive nor inviting.”
Tuesday stands up, “In this office I demand respect, not cheap theatrics. Understood?”
There is a knock at the door, “Come in,” Tuesday calls out.
Al walks in with a box of paperwork, “This is all of it,” he says to Tuesday.
“Put it on the table,” Tuesday asks. She returns her attention to Roman, “You’re excused.”
Roman chuckles to himself out loud as he rises from the desk and heads toward the door. He won’t let her have the last word, “Powder blue…”
“Excuse me?” Tuesday says to the strange pronouncement.
“You’re intimates. The string between your ass? The lace that hovers near your bush. Powder blue. Goes well with pulsating pink.”
Roman expects a shocked reaction from Tuesday. After all, she just said she demands respect when in this office.
Instead he receives the dreaded, no reaction, “Shut the door on your way out,” she says to get rid of him.
Roman exits the office and pulls the door closed with a mischievous smile on his face. Tuesday will be a challenge, Roman believes, and there is nothing more than a acquiesced fuck to get the juices flowing.
“Is there anything else?” Al asks.
“Nothing. Thank you,” Tuesday says.
Before Al leaves, he speaks on Roman’s behalf, “He’s not always that crude. He’s a hell of a fighter. He’s had to
overcome quite a bit to have a taste of glory.”
Tuesday shows a bit of interest, “Like what?”
Al moves in closer to Tuesday, so that he can speak in a softer tone, “He’s never met his father. He’s heard rumors that he’s doing life somewhere. His mother wasn’t much better. He was a foster kid for years before he left those toxic environments. He was invisible and lived on the streets for four years when I found him. He was beating the shit out of
some punk who had rolled him for the little bit of cash he had. I bailed him out, and he was left in my care during his probation. I brought him to this gym, introduced him to Oscar. At first he had no discipline, just an insane chip on his shoulder. He would fight like a wild animal with zero technique. It took many months to shape him into the machine he is today.”
“Thank you for the information, Al, but I don’t much care for excuses. Who he is today is who he chooses to be. And all I see is a disgusting, arrogant prick. Goodnight, Al.”
Al nods as he walks to the door and shuts it behind him.
Tuesday pulls the blinds shut in the office for privacy. She kicks off her heels and plops on the couch to go through the paperwork left behind by Oscar.
As she relaxes, she sinks further into the couch and shuts her eyes.
A slight gust of wind follows a flick of the light switch to the off position, which
surrounds her in total darkness. Tuesday opens her eyes. She’s not scared, just startled.
She whispers, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Though a physical being, Tuesday has mated with a Shifter, now another being, sometimes invisible to the naked eye, yet fully capable of pleasing a woman. This Shifter has a ravenous appetite tonight.
Tuesday seductively licks her lips as the
Shifter straddles her on the couch and methodically unbuttons her blouse. Her breasts heave up and down with anticipation as he transfixes his eyes on her.
The Shifter reaches around and unhooks her bra at the same time he pulls her skirt down to her ankles. This Shifter can call upon the use of two wings, two hands and all five senses to please a woman.
Tuesday arches her back as the Shifter spreads her legs.
CHAPTER FOUR
t’s 5 am, and Roman awakes like Iclockwork without an alarm. The blanket was kicked off during the night and lays crumpled on the floor, beside his bed. His sheet wraps around his body like an
anaconda.
Roman rolls over onto his back. He raises his hips to yank the sheet away from his body. The overhead oscillating fan whips cool air over his naked frame in waves.
A naked woman is wearing nothing but a gold chain around her waist lies beside him. She’s dead to the world and sleeps on her side with her legs in a bent position.
Her snores and snorts jar Roman. He doesn’t even remember who she is, only that she was waiting for him outside his car last night.
He shifts himself next to her as if her were going to spoon her. But instead he reaches over her hips and parts her labia with his fingers. She stirs as he jams himself into her from behind. Her vagina lacks lubrication, yet this doesn’t stop Roman.
The friction causes the woman to awaken with a screech before a moan as
she reaches behind to grab Roman’s ass and squeezes it as he pounds into her.
He pulls out of her and flips her over onto her back. With is usual asshole move, he shoves her head down to his throbbing cock. She grabs hold of it with both hands as she sucks the tip, then the shaft.
“All of it,” Roman demands.
The woman inserts the entire cock into her mouth, a few inches at a time. Roman
uses his hips and thrusts his cock down her throat. She has a gag reflex from the sudden motion and yanks the cock out of her mouth.
“Jackass,” she says to Roman as she climbs out of bed and grabs her clothes.
“You’re not leaving me like this,” Roman says with a rock hard cock about to explode.
“You’ve got two hands,” the woman says as she quickly dresses and leaves
the room. A moment later, the front door slams shut.
“Shit.”
Roman waddles to the bathroom and turns on the shower. He steps in as the hot water beats against his quivering back. He places his penis between both palms and presses them together. He then uses his left hand to move up and down his shaft and uses his right hand to squeeze his tip.
Roman switches to a double-handed technique where he simulates wringing out water from a cloth. That does it. Roman erupts with warm semen exploding out the tip of his penis the way a volcano overflows with lava.
Roman steadies himself up against the wall as his legs are weak. He turns towards the shower-head and allows the water to rinse it all away.
After his shower and manscape routine, Roman dresses for a workout. The Pretty glides into the kitchen and blends a whey
protein shake with whole almonds. In less than an hour, he will be engaged in his first training session of the day, so he makes sure he’s not weighed down with a heavy breakfast.
Gone are the days of pancakes, bacon and sausage. Once Roman decided he was going to be the champion, he changed his entire lifestyle to support his dream. Sure, he treats himself every once in a blue moon with a throwaway meal; but never close to a match.
Roman grabs his bag and cell phone and
exits his apartment
Inside his car, his phone connects to the car’s speaker. Roman pulls out of the driveway and is on his way to the gym.
The phone rings. Roman presses a button to answer the call. It’s a reporter from an MMA magazine; one of several interviews Roman grants monthly.
He’s hot shit right now and knows it. Reporters from across the country and Europe want a piece of The Pretty.
The Reporter asks him about friendships inside and outside the ring, “Who are you closest to?”
The Pretty responds, “The people that I’m closest too are fighters or trainers. It’s a small group. You get close to people; like family. They are your family.”
The Reporter then asks, “Have you ever had to fight a friend in the ring? And if so, were you conflicted?”
“Of course,” Roman responds, “Our friendship is strictly outside the ring. Once we step into the cage, that man is my enemy. I see him as the man standing between me and what’s mine.”
“Can you elaborate?” The Reporter asks.
“Say I have a daughter I’m supporting. My opponent is a threat to my daughter, and to me. If I don’t win, my daughter doesn’t eat. So I have to put him down.”
“Do you have a family? A daughter?” The reporter asks, “I mean, besides your less than idyllic parents.”
Roman parks in the gym's parking lot and turns off the ignition. He responds abruptly, ‘The other fighters are my only brothers and the cage is my mistress; there to push me past my comfort zone. I’m there to stroke her, to please her and
to draw blood for her.”
CHAPTER FIVE
oman swings the doors to the gym R open with such a thud, the glass rattles and the other fighters in the gym pause for a moment.
That reporter has touched a nerve with Roman. He doesn’t know why someone asking about his childhood would still have an effect on him. He hates feeling this way or acknowledging that his past still brings up so many raw emotions.
Roman commands his space, stands contrapposto, like an alpha male. He never leans into a conversation, always faces out, toward the room.
Even the position of his feet on the floor signal his status. He doesn’t approach other men; they approach him.
Other fighters in the gym stop their training as he walks by, with respect to the master. He exchanges one-handed shakes and back-pats. Lucky Lewis gives him the “bro” handshake.
For there is no one even remotely like him in the UFC; and no one comes close to the talent he possesses.
After the handshakes, The Pretty meets up with Al near the corner ring.
Roman glances up at the office for any signs of Tuesday. She’s not in the office or gym. This is actually a good thing as he doesn’t need the distraction that her scent, her pussy brings.
Roman and Al spend several hours on drills before The Pretty steps into the fighting ring to spar with Alvarado.
Alvarado, a friend, and former roommate has three pounds on The Pretty. He's also built differently as he's more solid than spry; which can count in his favor, as well as against him.
The Pretty steps inside the practice ring and hugs Alvarado as Lucky Lewis moves to the front of the crowd to stake his viewing spot.
“How are you doing, man?” Roman asks.
Alvarado responds, “The baby turns three tomorrow. I want you to come by and enjoy the birthday festivities, Roman. Sylvia asked me to ask you one more time. She worries about your well-
being.”
Roman smiles in appreciation, “I’m no good at birthday parties, Marco. Babies, cake and me don’t mix. But I appreciate the invite.”
“No problem man,” Alvarado assures.
A Referee steps in and outstretches his arms that signal them to go to their corners.
The bell rings. Both men automatically switch to a different mindset; that of kill or be killed.
Other fighters pause their workouts to witness this sparring matchup that will go as many rounds as it takes to declare a winner.
With The Pretty, you have a freak physical specimen with killer kickboxing blows. And with Alvarado, you have a cunning, elusive Jujitsu stylist; an expert in his Martial Arts field with a nine-and-a-half reach advantage.
Though just a sparring match, this could very well be one of the best match-ups anyone could imagine.
Al asks The Pretty before the bell rings, “Alvarado may have a shot. Treat this as a title fight.”
The Pretty adjusts his gloves, “Everyone has a shot, Al. But it’s my job is to take that away from them.”
Al steps out of the ring.
The bell sounds.
Playing a mental game as well as a physical, The Pretty squats low to the ground and almost crawls towards Alvarado. He keeps one hand on the ground so that Alvarado can’t kick him.
He’s up now and bounces right to left before a leg sweep. Alvarado avoids the tumble and does a right, right left jab. None of them lands on, The Pretty.
Alvarado darts in and out of the strike zone. The Pretty uses his left leg in a hook fashion and makes contact with the right side of Alvarado’s head. Alvarado stumbles back, but quickly regains his footing.
The Pretty using a spinning back kick and just misses Alvarado by an inch. However, it may as well have been missed by a mile, as far as The Pretty is concerned.
Tuesday returns from a meeting and is intrigued by the Titan matchup. She keeps her distance, yet studies every nuance of the bout.
Most women with her upbringing would recoil at the sight of men beating on other men for sport. Most women would find it barbaric to pound a man when he’s down and to purposely draw blood.
But this sport arouses something in Tuesday. She sees them as modern-day warriors and to the victor goes the spoils.
The Pretty and Alvarado shuffle around the ring with only each other in their sites.
Alvarado counter strikes with a kick to the leg. He’s as good as any when it comes to this technique. And there’s no windup to his kicks because of his Jujitsu style of training. He doesn’t step before he throws his kicks; just kicks from his stance which means most of his opponents can’t see them coming.
However, The Pretty has studied Alvarado and has picked up a clue that may even be hidden to Alvarado himself. His thigh muscles contract just before the strike that gives The Pretty a split second to make a counter move.
The Pretty continually changes his stance. He doesn’t fight southpaw or orthodox, so his opponent cannot anticipate what he’s going to do next.
The Pretty fakes left, hits right and catches the cheek of Alvarado, which sends him stumbling back a few steps
before he again recovers.
Alvarado just misses with his right hook counter as The Pretty outstretches his right arm and shuffles to the left.
Both men have gone all in; this isn’t just another sparring match. As far as The Pretty and Alvarado are concerned, this is life or death, and everyone in the gym can feel it.
Alvarado rushes forward with a karate blitz that causes The Pretty to lose his
balance for a split second. He recovers before Alvarado can do further damage.
Alvarado lands a body kick to the left as The Pretty blocks a follow-up with his forearm. Alvarado grows more confident and dangerous.
Alvarado uses one of the Pretty’s techniques; a front leg side kicks to the side. Alvarado misses with no contact, but he means to win.
With another blitz, Alvarado lands a
solid kick to the body. The Pretty ignores the pain and sets out to put Alvarado in the ground.
The Pretty begins to mimic Alvarado’s moves the way an alien would absorb its host. He plays the same game Alvarado plays which confuse Alvarado; who is, in essence, now playing against himself.
Al squeezes a horn as the two men go to their corners. The Pretty gets ice packs on his check, shoulders and neck. Alvarado has ice packs on his knees.
Al speaks to The Pretty, “I see your mind wandering in the cage. That’s not like you. Focus!”
Alvarado’s Coach tells him. “Continue the blitz. He’s on the defense. You got this.”
The bell rings and the two fighters are back in the center.
The Pretty spins and kicks towards Alvarado’s head two times in a row. Alvarado stumbles back when he works
to avoid the blows.
The fighters tap and clang knuckles two times before Alvarado drops to the ground and sweeps his leg under The Pretty to drop him. With lightning fast reflexes, The Pretty jumps over the leg and counters with his own sweep, which knocks Alvarado on his back.
The Pretty uses his Roman Gecko wrestling training to pin Alvarado to the ground. His elbows are vicious, and he uses them like sledgehammers to cut deep gouges across Alvarado’s head.
The force and angle of The Pretty’s elbows cause severe damage as blood spurts onto the mat and drizzles down Alvarado’s face.
The Pretty looks to choke before the Referee separates the two fighters and calls a time out. The Referee orders Alvarado to be examined by the Doctor.
Alvarado begrudgingly allows the Doctor to access the damage and apply powdered charcoal to stop the bleeding.
Alvarado is anxious to exact revenge.
The Doctor gives the okay, and the match continues. The fighters take their same positions before they were separated.
Fifty-seven seconds on the clock.
With The Pretty in control, he gives a big knee to the body of Alvarado. Alvarado buckles but The Pretty holds onto him.
Alvarado manages to twist away and releases himself from The Pretty’s grip. They both shift from side to side in the center of the ring.
The Pretty lands a massive punch to Alvarado’s side temple, which causes him to drop to his knees on all fours.
The Pretty wraps his legs around Alvarado’s head and rolls him several times until they’re pressed up against the cage.
The Pretty grabs Alvarado by the shoulders. As he slumps, The Pretty catches him by the neck and puts him down with a combination of a Standing Guillotine and the Von Fluke Choke.
The Pretty laces his right arm around the back of Alvarado’s head and uses his entire body weight against his neck.
Once the air and blood flow restrictions begin, Alvarado goes limp.
The Pretty keeps the hold until the
Referee sees this and calls it. The Pretty lets go as Alvarado crumbles to the ground in a heap, both bloody and unconscious.
It is all over.
Lucky Lewis tosses his head up and down in a reverse nod to acknowledge The Pretty as the winner. Lucky then turns around and moves through the crowd towards the exit.
The Doctor puts an oxygen mask over
Alvarado’s nose and mouth. Alvarado opens his eyes.
The Pretty turns his head and catches site of Tuesday in the crowd.
CHAPTER SIX
ucky Lewis scarfs down sushi with a L soup spoon inside an otherwise empty Japanese restaurant. This eatery is his domain, and he’s treated like a king here; number one. Despite his piggish ways,
he is welcome here.
“Would you like some more; on the house, of course,” a petite Waitress offers to Lucky.
Lucky looks the waitress up and down as if she were prime rib, and he a starving dog. He does his reverse head nod as she scurries back to the kitchen.
Lucky is not a handsome man. He carries several scars on his face served up by The Pretty and other MMA fighters
better than he. He also has bird-like legs, which is unusual for a fighter.
But despite his unconventional physique, Lucky is dangerous. He wants the championship, and he’s willing to do anything to get it. That is, except for working his ass off with multiple trainers, then rise through the ranks from pure skill.
Lucky expends so much energy looking for the shortcut, or a way to work the angle, instead of playing it straight. Rumor has it he spent nine months in
County lockup for Grand Theft and Petty Larceny. But no one can prove it, as his records were sealed by a judge in someone’s pocket.
His wild antics and illegal counter attacks have cost him several forfeitures and thousands of dollars in fines. He got the name Lucky, not because he lucks out and wins, but because he should be banned from the sport. Somehow and some way, he manages to continue to fight.
The front door to the restaurant opens
and in walks two men. They survey the empty joint before they approach Lucky’s table.
One man looks more of the businessman type, and the other, a mountain of a man. He is most likely a personal bodyguard.
The Businessman removes his hat and takes a seat at Lucky’s table without permission or fanfare. But it appears like they were expected, as Lucky acknowledges both with a half-smile.
The Waitress returns with another tray of sushi and sets it in front of Lucky. She quietly steps away from the table as Lucky runs his hand up her inner thigh, past her crotch to her backside. He grabs her ass in thanks.
The Waitress is embarrassed and turns to leave. However, Lucky has other plans.
He grabs her by the arm and spins her into his lap. She lands with a thud. He presses his face against hers and rams his tongue down her throat. At the same time, shoving his hand down the back of
her pants and squeezes her cheek. His hand slips further inside and tickle her clit.
The Waitress manages to jump off of Lucky’s lap and leap to freedom. She scurries back to the kitchen.
Lucky laughs to himself, “Don’t let that innocent routine of hers, snow you. She’ll be back. What a tight piece of ass.”
The Businessman rolls his eyes in
disgust.
“Try the rock and roll eel,” Lucky urges as he slides the plate near the Businessman.
The Bodyguard flicks the plate away as the sushi almost tumbles off the plate.
Lucky pushes himself away from the table and stands up to confront the bodyguard as his napkin falls from his lap to the floor. The Businessman raises his hand and gestures for the Bodyguard
to back up; which he does.
“I apologize for my help’s behavior,” the Businessman utters.
Lucky grabs his chair and sits back down, “What do you want, Allistor.”
Allistor leans in, “It’s not what I want, it’s what you have a right to, Lucky.”
Lucky drops his spoon on the table, “You
know I don’t like riddles.”
Allistor puts his cards on the table, “We can get you into the ring with The Pretty. Title bout.”
Lucky sits up straight.
“The Dragon has met with an unfortunate accident. You’ll take his place,” Allistor informs.
“It’s a minor break. I thought he could still fight,” Lucky spouts.
“I have a gift of foresight, and it’s telling me that his doctors will not give him the all clear to fight,” Allistor assures.
Lucky has never played by the rules before, but this is an entirely new level for him. Here he sits across from a man willing to bankroll him, but at the cost? Could the cost ever be too much for Lucky?
Lucky believes he’s as good as The Pretty, and, in fact, has wanted this opportunity for a long time. He ponders the possibility before asking a few follow-up questions.
“I’m not in his weight class,” Lucky points out.
“You’ll gain ten pounds,” Allistor responds. “A few milkshakes three times a day and you’re as good as gold.”
“What about a trainer? The one I have
now—“
Allistor cuts him off, “We have the best in the business ready to work with you on your say so.”
“The Pretty is expected to win. I just saw him put a friend of his into a temporary coma, ringside. He’d never throw a fight.”
“Are you afraid of him?” Allistor taunts.
“You’d be a fool not to be. I don’t know,” Lucky responds.
Allistor whispers what could be the crucial bit of information that Lucky needs to accept. “You’ll be able to land a rabbit punch without penalty. We’ll take care of everything. Any other concerns?”
“What’s in it for you?” Lucky demands.
The Bodyguard chuckles to himself as Allistor responds, “We split the purse,
fifty-fifty.”
Lucky grabs his fourth bottle of Japanese beer and chugs it before Allistor snatches it from his grip.
“You want to be a champion? You have to start playing one in real life. Don’t embarrass yourself by getting drunk in public with cheap spirits or raping waitresses in the middle of a restaurant. No, that is the old you. The new you cares about public perception.”
“I’m not changing for anyone,” Lucky shoots back.
“No one is asking you to. Just keep all your dirty little secrets private; behind closed doors,” Allistor admonishes.
Lucky snatches the bottle of beer back and finishes it off.
“What’s the purse?” Lucky inquires.
CHAPTER SEVEN
f there is one thing that Tuesday Iappreciates, it’s an all balls-out victory during a sparring match.
The Pretty intrigues her.
Roman puts his head under the shower head to feel the full force of the water.
Al hangs a clean towel on a nearby rack and exits the shower room.
Clicks of high heels reverberate and bounce off of the shower tiles.
Tuesday stands next to the clean towel
as Roman scrubs himself and lathers his chest and package with a rag. Soap drips into his eyes and causes them to sting. The Pretty reaches for the towel, but it’s gone. He wipes the soap from his eyes with his hands and sees Tuesday holding the towel out to him.
Roman puts his head back under the showerhead and rinses the soap away. Tuesday slings the towel back over the rack.
Tuesday makes no effort to divert her eyes from Roman’s manhood, and
Roman makes no attempt to cover himself up. In fact, he rather enjoys being looked at in such a way.
With the shower still on, water drips down his body, past his belly button and between his legs before Roman pivots to face her straight on.
“Did anyone tell you that it was only a sparring match?” Tuesday shouts to be heard over the running water.
Roman turns the water nobs to the off
position. He steps out of the shower and grabs the towel. He dries his hair first, and then his chest, arms, and pits. He saves his package for last as he slowly drives himself off using a circular motion before he wraps the damp towel around his waist.
“Was it too bloody for you?” Roman speculates.
“Just a bit brutal for a sparring match. Although I do admire you both for not holding anything back.”
Roman takes a step closer to Tuesday, “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Why do you insist on being crass?” Tuesday asks.
But without waiting for an answer, she continues, “I know your backstory. Al told me.”
The mood shifts as Roman speaks, “Al has a big mouth.”
“I’m glad he told me. It helps m understand you a little better; why you’re so obnoxious and treat women like sex on a stick.”
“That’s an unusual way to put it,” Roman adds.
Tuesday wipes the seat beads from her forehead, “I get it, your dad wasn’t around, and your mom was an addict—“
Roman cuts her off, “You don’t get a god-damn thing. You’ve lived a charmed
life with a bow wrapped around your waist since your were born. And now you have a business dropped into your lap with zero effort on your part. Do you get it? Really? All your degrees don’t give you an ounce of real life experience. Have you ever had to go without food or heat? Have you been beaten within an inch of your life for a dollar? Have you ever had to attend school in clothes that Good Will wouldn’t take? Now who's the delusional, pompous bitch in this room? Me or you?”
Tuesday was not expecting such a violent response to what she considered
a factual statement.
Tuesday realizes she may have stepped over the line with Roman, “Roman, I apologize if I came across as knowing your pain. I don’t.”
“You’re damn straight; you don’t” he echoes.
“But what I do know, is this. Whatever anyone has gone through, as long as they’re breathing, they can wipe the slate clean and create a new life.”
“Oh, it’s that simple?” Roman snaps back.
“I didn’t say it was simple; I said it could be done. I’ve lost someone very close to me, besides Oscar. I haven’t been able to move on completely. In fact, he still has a hold on me, despite his passing. But eventually, I will find the strength to break away.”
Tuesday wipes a tear from her face as she chuckles to herself, “I guess I need
to take my own advice.”
Roman takes a step closer to Tuesday as he wants to apologize, “Listen…”
Tuesday senses this but doesn’t know quite how to handle the situation. So she just turns around to leave, “See you tomorrow.”
“Tuesday,” Roman shouts as the door to the locker room shuts behind her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
uesday turns on talk radio in her car T on her way to Franklin Forrest. It’s a small reserve filled with tall redwoods, multiple trails and plenty of wildlife.
It’s dusk and the remaining visitors empty out the parking lot. A chain lock meant to keep visitors away during these hours wraps around the entrance gate.
Tuesday slips off her heels and slips on walking shoes. She reaches over to the glove box and grabs a flashlight before she steps outside of her car.
She twists the base of the flashlight to turn it on and follows the gate to the park for about a quarter of a mile before she comes upon an opening made from bolt cutters.
She steps through the hole just as she hears a tree branch snap. She pauses for a moment as she tries to detect the direction of the disturbance. Unable to figure it out, she continues moving forward, as planned.
She follows the Hanover trail that gets microscopic use as it’s not wellmaintained. The walkway is tight, and overhead tree branches constrict her movement.
Tuesday hunches over to avoid shrubbery until she reaches a marked tree from claws. Most people, if they venture this deep, would assume a bear or other wildlife would have made the marking. However, Tuesday knows different.
She walks behind the tree to a small clearing no more than ten feet by ten feet. She uses the flashlight to sweep the area. It would seem that no one is around.
However, within moments, the wind picks up and leaves rustle. Tuesday turns
her flashlight to whatever direction the sounds come from, in an attempt to be discovered.
Suddenly, from the north, she feels his presence. She notices impressions of footsteps that approach her, yet there is no physical body she can make out.
Tuesday takes a deep breath as the footprints stop inches from her.
Roman parks his car on the side of the road, just around the corner from the Franklin Forrest parking lot. He climbs out and jogs towards Tuesday’s car.
He peers inside the vehicle and sees nothing out of the ordinary. But his mind races. What is Tuesday doing here at night? Why would she be meeting someone here so late, instead of at her office?
Roman knew he had no right to ask these questions and certainly no reason to follow her. Yet, he finds himself drawn to this woman and her mysterious ways.
Roman sees the flashlight beam in the far distance. He wastes no time in scaling the locked gate. He swings himself over the top and lands in a crouched position.
As a fighter, he has honed his five senses as that’s what makes a champion. He places his palm flat on the ground and feels for vibrations in every direction. Once he discovers the correct latitude
and longitude, he walks at a quick pace. Every few moments he looks up to see if the flashlight beam still shine, guide him.
Tuesday’s breaths rapidly as her chest heave up and down. She has been here before, yet it never gets any easier.
An invisible force reaches out and with their hands pushes Tuesday up against a
tree.
“You’re back,” the Force whispers.
“Show yourself,” Tuesday manages to get out.
At that moment, three Forces materialize into flesh form. Two stand a distance back and allows the third to control the situation.”
Though they have taken human form, they are still transparent with wing spans of ten feet. Tuesday can only make out their outlines.
There is something very angelic and sinister about them at the same time. There are no outward visible signs that would lead you to this conclusion, but Tuesday keeps her guard up.
“Why are you frightened?” the Force says to Tuesday as he rubs the back of his hand up and down her cheek.
“I had to see you,” Tuesday says in a breathy manner.
The Force steps closer to Tuesday and tests the weight of her breasts in his hands. Through her blouse, he caresses them. In one swoop, he rips open her blouse and lifts up her bra to lay bare her breasts.
Tuesday moans with pleasure, “Please. I need to ask you something.”
The Force suckles her breast as the other
two beings takes measured steps towards Tuesday.
“We can’t continue like this. You’re dead,” Tuesday says in between his ravenous licks and sucks.
The second Force flaps his wings as a sign of excitement. He stands behind the tree that Tuesday leans up against and unzips her skirt slowly.
The Third Force crawls towards Tuesday and tugs at her skirt. It flutters
to her ankles.
The Third Force reaches up and gently claws at her pussy. Tuesday squirms as he wraps his glowing fingers around the sides of her lace undies and pulls them downward.
The Second Force, who is still behind her, wraps his arms around the tree and Tuesday. He latches onto her hips as she grinds against the tree.
“You were saying?” The First Force
says as he grabs her face and pulls her close with pressurized kisses. He toggles his tongue in and out of her mouth at such an intense speed that Tuesdays’ clit flitters and spasms.
The Third Force reaches up and slips his finger inside her as if he’s dipping fingers inside a peanut butter jar. He feels the pulsating twitches up against his finger. He curiously looks up and uses the other hand to peel open her labia.
This Force seems more intrigued with
Tuesday’s pussy than turned on.
“Tuesday manages to get a few words out, “I loved you, but you’re gone. Please let me live my life…”
The First Force lifts up Tuesday, and she wraps her legs around his hips. His wings flatten out over her calves and ankles.
With a faint tone, “I have granted you one single wish. Do you want to use it now?” the First Force says as his raises
her up by the waist then lowers her down on top of his heavenly manhood. He slips right into the dripping moist walls of her vagina after an initial thrust.
He’s a perfect fit.
This is not the first time, and probably not the last that they’ve connected this way.
Tuesday shakes her head no in response to his question. She knows she has only one wish, and she must use it wisely.
The Second Force comes behind Tuesday as she swivels her hips forward and back on Force One’s heavenly cock.
The Second Force presses himself against her as his wings flutter in excitement. He fondles his member as he sticks his two fingers in-between her butt cheeks.
My God, her ass is a turn on. So perfectly round, juicy and inviting, the Second Force thinks.
He moves his fingers up and down her crack before he settles on her anus. He wets his finger with his own juices before he slips a finger into her anus, a little bit at a time before he’s fully inside.
He finger-bangs her ass while The First Force fucks her pussy.
Tuesday goes limp in The First Force’s arms as her body is in overload mode. Her breasts bounce up and down with
each thrust from both partners.
The Third Force slides his finger out of Tuesday’s anus and fondles himself to get hard. He then shoves his cock inbetween Tuesday’s butt cheeks. He presses the cheeks together firmly for the maximum pressure on his member.
With each squeeze, he lets out an animalistic vocal that reverberates throughout the forest.
The Second Force pleasures himself as
he gazes upon the other two screwing Tuesday. He tilts his head to the side, the way a dog does, wondering if he should take Tuesday for himself.
The Second Force spits on his fingers and strokes his member. But before he ejaculates, he senses another presence. He rises from the ground and sniffs the air with a long inhale. He turns his head in the direction of Roman, who crouches down behind thick brush.
Their Roman squats as the blood rushes from his extremities. He’s pale. He’s in
shock.
In a sudden blast of movement, The Second Force violently rushes towards Roman. He grabs him and lifts him over his head with both arms.
Tuesday turns in Roman’s direction and is shocked to see him here. What the hell is he doing here? Why did he follow her? This could cost him his life, she thinks before she screams, “Wait!”
CHAPTER NINE
oman awakens on Tuesday’s couch R in her loft. He’s bruised, sore, but okay as far as he can tell.
He panics for a moment as he has no idea where he is or how he got there.
Tuesday glides into the room with a fluffy robe on and animal-print slippers.
“How do you feel,” she says as she hands him a cup of coffee.
Roman ignores the coffee gesture and rises from the couch.
“Careful, you’re nursing a hangover,” she lies to calm him.
Roman cradles his head with both hands and sits back down on the couch.
Tuesday sits down next to him. Her robe opens up to reveal her luscious thick thighs. She quickly closes it. She needs to stay focused if she’s going to convince Roman that tonight never happened.
“You did a bit too much celebrating tonight. I’m surprised you drank as much
as you did.”
“What?” Roman says in a state of confusion.
Tuesday realizes that his life may depend on him forgetting everything he saw tonight, so she continues the charade.
“I was leaving when I saw you in your car, hungover. I couldn’t leave you like that, so I had some stranger walking by, help me get you into my car. My
doorman helped bring you up. You don’t remember anything?”
Roman studies Tuesday’s face for any hint that what she’s telling him isn’t the truth. As a fighter, you have to trust your gut, trust your instincts and most importantly, believe your inner voice.
His inner voice tells him that what he saw was real. Something that he can’t explain was in that forest; translucent beings fucking Tuesday.
Roman jumps on top of Tuesday which knocks over the coffee table and sends her java mug crashing to the ground. He straddles her and locks her arms over her head in one swift movement.
He understands his strengths and takes great care not to hurt or harm Tuesday. But he has to know the truth.
“What are you doing?” Tuesday yells out as she struggles to pull her wrists away from his tight grip. As she wrestles to break free, her robe loosens, and her breasts bounce out. They are a glorious
site. Her swollen nipples protrude and beg to be sucked.
With one hand in the lock position holding her wrists above her head, Roman rips the belt from her robe.
He can’t help but admire her curvaceous hips and tiny waist. How he wants to run his finger down from her cleavage, over her soft stomach and down between her legs.
Roman transfixes on her leopard panties
as she twists to get away. They are lowcut with pubic hairs peeking out from the sides.
Roman gets a hard on and wants nothing more than to rip those panties off and consume her. He can imagine his mouth all over her body. He wants to raise her hips and throw her legs over his shoulders so that her pussy is wide enough for him to eat her alive. He imagines her shrieking with pleasure as his tongue delves deeper inside her cultivated, pink garden.
Roman gets in-between her limbs and spreads her legs. He holds her legs open with his powerful thighs.
She is no match for him. She is at his mercy.
Roman bends her legs further and widens them to survey her inner thighs. He inspects for bruises and redness; any indication that she’s had rough sex tonight.
He leans in and presses his nose up
against her crotch and inhales. He runs his nose along the length of the elastic of her panties; on all three sides once, twice, and a third time.
His nose accidentally slips under one side of the elastic and rests in the valley between her leg and hip. That is precisely where Roman lives. He’s used to licking and nibbling on this exact location.
His highly developed sense of smell sends his hormones into overdrive as he inhales her sweet, creamy scent.
Tuesday thrusts her hips and squirms to try and escape, but she only manages to accidentally roll her panties down below her ass.
Her bush and vagina are fully exposed and are damp from the struggle. The crotch of her panties is wet to the touch.
She doesn’t know what to do. Is he going to force himself on her?
Roman continues to hold her wrists together, and with the other hand flips her over onto her stomach in one quick movement.
Her panties are below her ass, “Please, don’t” Tuesday halfheartedly pleads.
Roman rubs the crotch of her panties between his thumb and index finger. Once his fingers are saturated, he lifts them to his mouth and sucks them dry.
Tasting her juices second hand is better
than nothing at all.
Tuesday twists and turns as Roman moves in-between her legs once again thereby spreading her legs as far as they can go.
The way she arches her back, he has a full view of her vagina and anus.
Roman parts her cheeks with his fingers. He runs his fingers down her crack until he reaches her anus. He opens up her anus to look for any broken blood
vessels. He has to take a closer look. He leans in with his lips and tongue just an eighth of an inch away.
He hovers near her anus. Would it be so wrong if he were to stick his tongue inside her tight ass? Would she howl with pleasure as he licked up and down her crack and settled in her anus?
No, he could not do this, though that was his strongest urge at the moment.
He doesn’t see any indication of being
finger-fucked, so he forces himself to move on.
Tuesday is quiet as no one has ever inspected her before. She fights back the urge to let him know that she wants him now, that his brutal touch has awakened senses that were long dead.
How she wants him to lick and suck her anus before he reaches between her legs to scratch at her vagina. She wants his bruised hand to squeeze and flick her labia, to part her pink lips and finger fuck her into submission as he tongue-
fucks her ear.
How she envisioned him unzipping his pants and releasing his cock, robust and wet. She wanted him to position her hips in such a way that he could enter her vagina from behind. She wanted to feel his rock hard cock force find it’s way inside her.
But she remained silent, as she knew she was still another’s, and he was a jealous being.
Roman brushes his hand up against her bush as he raises her panties back up; first one hip. In doing so, his hand also skims her labia. He lingers there for a split second as Tuesday tingles from the touch.
His bulge demands satisfaction, yet his plan is not to have sex tonight; and especially with a woman who doesn’t want him.
Roman doesn’t smell or detect the presence of other men, so he is satisfied.
He releases Tuesday’s wrists as she sits up and pulls the other side of her panties up. She’s kind of angry with him and decides to take a swing. She wants to knock his lights out for taking absolute control of her body. But he catches her hand in his fist and interrupts her before she makes contact with his face.
“No one has come close to landing one on the face of The Pretty,” Roman says, referring to himself in the third person, “And no one will.”
She jumps off the couch and yanks her
robe shut. She doesn’t understand what just happened. She should be scared shitless of Roman, but she’s not.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she said, coming to her senses and pissed as hell.
“I had to see for myself. It had to be done.”
“See what exactly for yourself?” jackass.
“I apologize. I had to follow my gut. This is the first time that it’s proved me wrong,” Roman says as he rises from the couch and walks over to the floor-toceiling window to take in a breathtaking skyline view.
“How many floors up are we?” Roman asks as Tuesday stands nearby with tightly folded arms.
“What have you decided?” she asks.
Roman turns in Tuesday’s direction, “It
was an insane, mind-bending dream.”
Tuesday asks a follow-up question without looking at him, “What was the dream about?”
As if she didn’t know. She knew exactly what it was about. However, now, she’s confident that she’s convinced him that it was truly a dream.
She’s sorry as hell that he was there. But if he had only minded his own god-damn business, this would have never
happened.
For this secret of Tuesdays’ must remain one. She would give anything if she could share her secret. But she can’t. And she can’t run away from it either.
Her former lover, Christopher, was now a Force. She lost him in a car accident after an elderly man who should not have been driving, ran a red light.
Tuesday prayed to God and said she would do anything to have him back with
her.
Her prayers were answered, yet he was not in the form she expected. He was a force, mighty and invisible. And he is not willing to let her go; even in death.
His gluttonous sexual appetite has not wavered. And he takes Tuesday on a regular basis.
But he’s given her an out by granting her one wish. She has held onto that wish, careful only to use it in the perfect
situation.
Of course she could wish that he would just go away and never return. But he still has a hold on her; though his grip is slipping as the weeks go by.
No, no matter how much she wants to tell Roman everything, she can’t. He wouldn’t understand. The news would also put him back in a direct path with a jealous force that will stop at nothing to keep Tuesday in his arms.
Tuesday does have a plan, however. She can’t be the only woman in this situation. And for the last couple of months, she’s been searching for groups of women like herself. She may have found someone… someone who can rid her of Christopher and his partners.
Tuesday tracks Roman with her eyes as he moves away from the window.
Roman is not one to shy away from anything. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he felt embarrassment. He didn’t want to share this living
daydream, or dark as hell nightmare with Tuesday.
How could he tell her what he thought he saw? She would probably have him committed. So he just buries it deep inside.
Roman reaches for his jacket and walks out the front door. Tuesday follows behind him and shuts the door and locks it.
CHAPTER TEN
Saturday morning, and it’s the one Idayt’sthat Roman takes off from his intense training.
He didn’t sleep well last night as visions of Tuesday and strange beings planted themselves in his subconscious. Sure, what she said could explain it all. And the fact that he held Tuesday down and inhaled every part of her, only solidifies her story.
But what if what he saw, was real? What if there are things in this world that can’t be explained? The more he thinks about this, the most confused he becomes. So for now, he’s going to have to let it go. He’s got something far more important to do today.
Roman enters a Boys and Girls Club where a bunch of nine and ten-year-olds race over to him to be the first to spar with him.
It’s a privilege to be picked as the first by, The Pretty. To these kids, he is a God. He’s someone to look up to, someone to emulate. Most of these kids have no fathers and starve for male guidance.
Roman sees himself in their eyes. He’s no Saint, yet he has a soft spot for kids who were around his age when his life
went all to hell.
One night sticks out vividly for Roman; a night he has not shared with anyone, not even the Police or Social Workers. Why would he? They couldn’t stop abuse and were barely around to check on him as he was passed from one foster home to another.
But none of those homes could match the terror he survived living with his own mother.
He was eleven. It was him and his mom; whenever she was around. Gladys was her name. An ugly name for an even uglier woman.
An endless parade of men would frequent her bed from sun up to sun down. They each paid twenty dollars to have their way with her. Roman slept in a closet to get away from the sex sounds that made him physically ill.
The apartment had a thick stench of cigarettes and urine. Mold lined the kitchen and bathroom walls. Dirty dishes
were piled up not only in the kitchen, but living room and bedroom as well.
It was Roman’s job to collect the cigarette butts and empty beer cans. He recycled those cans every five days so that he could have change for food. Other times, he would simply steal food to survive.
He was one of those kids everyone knew as poor. The would make fun of him every chance they got. But Roman didn’t care as having a guaranteed meal was more important than his pride.
Even though he lived in filth, Roman always wore clean clothes to school. A kindly neighbor, Mrs. Lopez, would do his laundry and keep his clean clothes at her home. He would leave his apartment, then shower and get dressed at hers. This arrangement lasted for several years before the Department of Children Services took him from the home.
During one of his mother’s meth binges, she accepted twenty dollars for a stranger to have his way with Roman. She called him into the room. In between
snorts of cocaine and injections of meth, she explained that this is the way it has to be and that all kids have to do this if they love their mother.
Roman has been abused before, but not in this fashion. He has suffered gashes to his lower back, a fractured shinbone, a ripped ear, blackened fingers, and toes, as well as teeth being knocked out.
Still, something told Roman that this was not right, yet he felt powerless to do anything about it. Through all her faults, he still loved his mother, as she was the
only family he had. He rationalized that she knew what was best, and this is how she took care of him.
When her John arrived, Gladys snatched the twenty dollars and left the apartment without even looking back. Roman hid in the closet, his safe place from all the craziness. However, there was no lock on the door, so the John quickly found him and pulled him out.
The John explained to him that he was taking good care of him and that it would feel good.
The John pulled down Roman’s pants and stared at his member with a sparkle in his eyes. He asked Roman to turn around. Roman stood there, stoic, tears running down his face.
That didn’t matter to the John. He unzipped his own pants and spun Roman around so that his back was to the John. He used his enormous hands to bend Roman over at the waist. He massaged Roman’s cheeks before he reached between his legs and grabbed his small penis and testicles.
Roman screamed in fear as The John shrieked for him to shut up.
But Roman refused to be quiet and, in fact, broke away. He ran into the kitchen as the John took his time following him.
Roman frantically rummaged through a drawer until he found what he was looking for. The John wrapped his arms around Roman’s waist as Roman swung a meat tenderizer at the John’s head. He hit him with such force that an imprint of
the tenderizer was left on his forehead.
The John staggered back as he cursed Roman out. Roman’s next instinct was to run, but he felt empowered by what he had just done.
Roman charged the John and knocked him to the ground. The John fell flat on his back. Roman raised the meat tenderizer above his head and came down hard on his skull; right between the eyes.
The John twitched as Roman raised his arm again and again and pulverized the John’s face.
The John’s face was a bloody, pulpy mess. Roman climbed off of the John and just stared at him while his own breathing staggered between short quick breaths and long inhales.
Roman wanted him dead and had hoped he had accomplished that.
The John’s left leg twitched as Roman
walked over to the sink and rinsed the blood and hair from the meat tenderizer.
He felt no remorse, no pain, no fear.
He then gathered his clothes and walked out the door. He knocked on Mrs. Lopez’s door. She swung the door open with gaiety, but then quickly shook in horror at the sight of Roman splattered in blood.
That was the last time he stepped foot in that apartment, and the last time he saw
his mother.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
oman tosses his duffel bag to one of R the kids at the Boys and Girls Club as another child shoves his way to the front of the group. Usually, this kind of kid would be reprimanded by an instructor
for not waiting his turn. However, Roman sees the anger in this kids eyes and the burn inside his belly.
This may be his only opportunity to get validation of his worth.
And Roman will give it to him.
Some parents don’t want their kids to learn Mixed Martial Arts as they feel it teaches violence at a young age. That may be true, but it’s a violent world, and Roman wants these kids to be prepared.
Roman stresses to their parents that Mixed Martial Arts also teach discipline and values.
Roman doesn’t shy away from any element of his sport. He picks up the kid who shoved his way to the front and carries him to the mat where he puts him down. Roman orders him to lead the group in calisthenics.
Roman stands next to the boy, “Jumping Jacks,” he shouts.
The boy echoes his orders to the kids, “Jumping Jacks, One Hundred.”
Once the group completes the jumping jacks, “Drop Squat Lung,” Roman demands.
The boy again echoes, “Drop Squat Lunges, fifty.”
The kids comply, although not all can make it to fifty. In fact, most can’t even make it past thirty, but they keep trying.
Roman lords it over the group as he gives further demands for additional exercises.
Once this part of the routine is complete, Roman breaks them up into smaller groups where they work on additional skills.
A nine-year-old lifts her elevated leg and pounds away at a kicking pad with such force, the boy holding it in place loses his footing and falls backward on his butt. He quickly gets back up and holds the bag even tighter as he prepares
for the next onslaught of kicks.
Roman pushes the kids past their normal limits, and he has seen drastic results in the three years he has volunteered here.
His final lesson today involves Muay Thai, where the kids are taught to strike with their feet, shins, fists, knees and elbows.
Today is a good day as no one gets hurt. But these types of days are few and far between.
Roman wraps up today by handing out protein shakes to the kids.
As the kids grab their gear and exit to be picked up by a parent, Roman hangs back to see if Sam’s father will arrive on time.
Sam, a blond kid with a buzz-cut and a crooked front tooth, is the introvert of the class. However, he’s the first to pick up new techniques with his own style and finesse.
Roman strolls outside and sits next to Sam as they wait for his ride.
“You did damn good today, little man,” Roman says to distract Sam.
“You think so? I thought I screwed up,” Sam comments.
“Oh, you did fuck up today, Sam, with
your kicks. You have to learn to keep them low and pivot from the hips,” Roman says, "but other than that, you were golden.”
Sam gives Roman a half-smile as he knows that this is about as good a compliment as he’s going to get out of Roman.
Roman glances at his watch, “What time is your dad supposed to pick you up?”
“Whenever he gets here,” Sam informs.
“He’s a busy man. People depend on him.”
Roman is not much for consoling kids as he doesn’t know how; so he wings it. Inside these doors, things click and he’s in teacher-mode. But once the session is over, and the lights go out; he has nothing left to say to these kids.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll wait with you here until your dad comes.”
Sam’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to
accept the offer, “No thanks. He’ll be here soon. I don’t want you here when he comes.”
There are fewer things more difficult than arguing with a kid and trying to change their mind.
Roman picks up his duffel bag and walks to his car. He climbs in and sits. But he’s not going anywhere until Sam is picked up.
An hour later, Sam’s father arrives. He’s
a white-collar man with his ear permanently attached to his cell phone. He honks for Sam to climb into the car so they can get going.
Sam looks at his dad and runs away in the opposite direction. Sam just takes off after seeing his dad on the phone again. Sam’s dad climbs out of his car and calls out to Sam in-between a phone conversation.
Roman gets out of his car and jogs towards the father, “Are you going after him?” Roman asks.
“He’ll be back,” the father says as he shouts into his cell phone about an unbalanced budget.
“It’s late. You should go after him,” Roman reprimands.
The father covers his cell phone receiver with his hand, ‘Who the hell do you think you are? He’s my son. Mind your own goddamn business, or I’ll call the cops.”
Roman could so quickly snap this thin man in half without any effort whatsoever, but he is more concerned about Sam.
Roman takes off running after Sam while Sam’s dad leans back against his car and continues his phone conversation.
“Sam, Sam,” Roman calls out as he runs down the road. It’s a two lane street with very little traffic. Farmland is to the right and tract houses to the left.
Roman’s eyes dart side to side for any hint as to which direction Sam went. He jogs another quarter mile before he spots recently flattened grass that leads to a foreclosed home. The property is overgrown and boarded up.
Sam has climbed a tree near the front porch of the property. Roman approaches him without saying a word.
Neither speak.
After ten minutes, Sam says, ‘Well,
aren’t you going to say something? Aren’t you going to tell me I'm a dumb kid and to get out of this tree?”
Roman doesn’t know what to say to Sam, so he remains silent.
Sam speaks more up in that tree than the entire time since Roman has known him. “I like it up here. I can live up here, and there is nobody who can tell me otherwise.”
Roman again says nothing, just leans up
against the tree. He doesn’t even look up at Sam.
“I hate my dad. I hate my life,” Sam spills.
Now Roman has something to work with, “Are you shitting me, Sam? You hate your life because you have a prick instead of a dad? You’ve got it damn good.”
Roman continues, “Has anyone ever molested you?”
Sam is shocked by the question, “Molested? As in some perv touching me? No.”
“When is the last time you ate?” Roman asks.
“Before practice,” Sam announces.
“When is the last time you went to bed in a closet, cold, without a blanket?”
Sam instinctually understands that this is not a question Roman expects an answer to, that he is making a point.
Sam climbs down from the tree, “I wish I were like you. I wish you were my dad.”
Roman grabs Sam by the upper arms and shakes him, “Don’t you EVER say that again,” before he releases him.
Shocked, Sam backs away from Roman.
“Now run your ass back to your father’s car,” Roman orders.
And Sam does just that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
oman finishes his five-hour workout R today and has successfully managed to avoid Tuesday. It wasn’t hard as she works to avoid him as well.
Tuesday draws the blinds in her office, and Roman has completed his circuits without any distractions.
Al approaches Roman and swings a towel around The Pretty’s neck to sop up the sweat.
“We have a match up,” Al announces.
Roman and Al waltz into Allistor’s office. The leather seats are tufted and plush and the desk mahogany. Big Game animal heads span two walls.
Roman is by no means a tree-hugger or insane animal lover. But the sight of majestic animals on the walls of a pompous egomaniac’s office, sickens him. Only men with large egos and small dicks partake in such sport; that is if you can call it a sport.
“How do you like my latest conquest?” Allistor says as he gestures at the head
of a Giselle. “Tracking this lady was hell. She put up a valiant fight.”
Roman doesn’t hold his tongue, “Tracking? Fight? Are you shitting me? You call it a fight? What type of weapon did the Giselle have? You and your type disgust me. You’re a small pathetic man who gets his rocks off by killing powerless animals, strictly for pleasure.”
Allistor’s smile evaporates from his face as he puts out a cigar. “Isn’t that exactly what you are, The Pretty? I
suppose if the rules of the game were changed, that you would walk into a cage, slap a man on the back and be on your way? No, I don’t believe so. You belong in that cage, like an animal. You train for the precious few moments you get to step into that coop and bash the head in of another man. And you call me pathetic?”
Roman places his knuckles on Allistor’s desk and leans in, “At least it’s a wellmatched fight; an even playing field.”
“And that is why I’ve asked you here.
Have a seat,’ Allistor requests as he gestures to which seat he wants Roman to sit in. Roman opts for another one.
Allistor chuckles to himself, ‘You alpha males are so predictable.”
Allistor takes a seat behind his desk, “I’ve spoken with the commission, and we’ve come up with your opponent for the championship bout. Would you like to know who it is?”
Al pipes up, “Who is it? The Dragon?
Bones?”
There is a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Allistor says as Lucky Lewis enters the room.
“The Pretty,” Lucky utters as he does a reverse nod in Roman’s direction.
Roman stands and approaches Lucky. “You’re not in fighting shape.”
“Says who? You?” Lucky shoots back.
“Do you really want to do this, Lucky?” Roman asks.
“Roman, I respect you. But I’m going to beat the shit out of you in the ring.”
Roman lets his emotions overtake him, “Your record is 8-6-1. You’re not ready. I don’t want to have to put you down,
Lucky.”
Lucky takes a step closer to Roman. They are inches away from each other, as if in a standoff.
“This is my shot, and I’m taking it. I have a few tricks up my sleeves. You won’t be on top of the pedestal after I’m done,” Lucky threatens.
Roman turns to Al, “I won’t fight him.”
Al gestures for Roman to come closer. He whispers, “It’s your choice, Roman. But remember, it’s what you’ve been working your entire career for. Lucky wants it bad. If he gets knocked out on his ass, it has nothing to do with you. If not Lucky, even the next guy on the list isn’t worthy of you. He wouldn’t give you enough of a challenge either; the fight would be over in the first round. Lucky isn’t highly ranked; that’s true. Be he deserves a shot as much as anyone else. He’s prepared to get in shape. He’ll be at his best when you send him to hell.”
Roman thinks for a moment before he
turns back to face Lucky.
“Are you being pressured?” he asks Lucky.
Lucky laughs right in his face, “We’re evenly matched. The title will be mine; even if I have to mess up that pretty face of yours.”
Roman turns to face Allistor, “I want to see the contract.”
Allistor pulls out the contract and hands it to Lucky who doesn’t bother to read it. He just signs it as he stares down Roman.
Roman takes the contract and sits down. He’s going to take his time reading over all the clauses. Al sits next to him and points out several points of the contract.
Roman crosses out certain addendum’s and initials the changes. He also crosses out the amount he is to be paid for the fight and doubles it.
He slings the contract back at Allistor, who puts on his glasses to read the changes. He comes to the dollar amount of the purse.
“I knew you thought of yourself very highly, but this figure? Are your balls made of platinum?” Allistor says as he awaits a response.
“I’m worth double that figure, and you know it. There is no room for negotiations. That’s my price,” Roman announces as he lays down the law.
Allistor looks over the rims of his glasses at Roman. He can see that the deal hinges on this; it’s all or nothing.
Allistor signs the contract, “It’s settled. We have a championship bout. I’ll announce it to the press.”
“I want a copy of the contract sent over by tonight, Roman orders as he strides out the room. Al follows and shuts the door behind him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
uesday walks down a dark corridor T towards a nondescript door. She knocks on it twice before a woman on the other side calls out.
“Speak your name,” the voice utters.
“Tuesday.”
The door unlocks, and Tuesday walks inside. The lead door quickly swings shut behind her with an obnoxious boom.
“I apologize for the theatrics,” the woman says to Tuesday. “But we have to be careful.”
The woman of thirty is quite short in stature with a pixie red hair cut. She is not at all what Tuesday was expecting.
Candles burn out of necessity, rather than for ritual, as there is no electricity in the vacant room.
“I’m Megan by the way. And please, don’t let the candles scare you. This place is off the radar. If we had utility bills, that would defeat the purpose. And that thunderous lead door keeps the uninvited forces out.”
“Okay. Good to know,” Tuesday pipes in.
“You’re a pretty one. I can see why your force refuses to let you go,” Megan compliments.
But it is not the kind of compliment Tuesday was looking for from a strange woman in a dark room.
“I need your advice, some guidance, Megan,” Tuesday asks as she wants to get straight to the point.
“Can you get rid of your force for good? Is that the first question?” Megan asks.
“Yes,” Tuesday answers.
“That’s difficult to answer. So many have tried before you, and most have failed. And not because of the reason you would think. It’s because sex with a Force is so damn electrifying, it’s hard to give that up for a mere mortal dick.”
“What if I am ready to give it up? What can I do?” Tuesday says flat out.
“I’ll assume you still have the one wish left? Is that correct?” Megan questions.
“Yes, I do,” Tuesday confirms.
“Have you thought about using it to rid him once and for all out of your life, or perhaps for another fleshly desire?” Megan drills in hopes of discovering the real Tuesday.
Tuesday quickly responds,“Yes, that is exactly what I’m thinking of using it for. I loved him more than myself at times, before the accident. I even wished myself dead to be with him. But that was the foolish and inexperienced girl inside me talking. I’ll admit that the sex now is even better than when he was alive. But I’m ready to say goodbye to him, and everything surrounding him.”
Megan steps in closer, to let her in on a secret, “That is what they want you to do. It’s a trap. Once you say you want them gone and call upon your wish to make it happen, they will double in number. Your force will clone and so
will his companions. Instead of three of them, you will have six to deal with.”
Completely shocked, Tuesday’s mouth falls opens, “So every time he asked me if I wanted to use my wish to say goodbye to him, he knew it would be the beginning.”
Megan nods in the affirmative.
“That son of a bitch,” Tuesday says under her breath,
“If you thought your troubles were many before,” Megan continues, “they would double. All of them would demand more and more of you, more than you would ever be able to keep up with. You’d become a vessel used simply for their pleasure. Your insides would eventually disintegrate, and there would be nothing left of you but a beaten soul. Once that happens, they take that as well.”
“Oh my God, so what do I do?” Tuesday implores, “How do I rid myself of them? I can’t continue like this much longer. They’re taking over my life. They’ve even become violent. They’ve crossed over to black, and I refuse to go with
them.”
“Is there someone else?” Megan questions.
Tuesday takes a moment before she admits the truth, “Yes, there is someone that I want to be with who may want me too. He followed me to Franklin Forrest one evening and found us. They turned on him and almost killed him. I think I’ve convinced him that it never happened, but I don’t know for sure.”
“There are no guarantees, mind you but some have cut their visits to almost zero by—“
“By what?” Tuesday jumps in, anxious to hear the answer.
“By becoming celibate and refusing to allow the Force or any man to enter them. The Force must gain your permission before each interlude, and we know how strong their spells can be. But if you’re strong enough and refuse their urges and your own desires, they may grow weary trying or impatient, and
move on.”
Tuesday asks a follow-up question, “I can do that. Is there anything else I can do?”
“One, not so pretty,” Megan offers.
“Tell me,” Tuesday demands.
A candle goes out.
Megan is uncomfortable. But she just tells herself that it had nothing to do with a Force. She walks back over to the candle, strikes a match and relights it before she turns back to face Tuesday. She rolls up her left sleeve. There is a branding mark burned into her inside wrist the way a cattle prod is used to mark cattle. It looks like a circle within a circle, within a circle, within a circle.
“What did you do to yourself?” Tuesday demands as she inspects the marking.
Megan rolls the sleeve back down, “It’s
an amulet used by Druid Priests. It’s sacred to the Omnipresent worshipers of the 1400s. It wards off evil, as well as provides a protective shield against unwanted Forces. But, if you allow them in your bed, just once, it’s effects are null and void.”
Tuesday paces back and forth as her head fills with so many more questions than Megan could possibly answer.
“So what should I use my wish on?” Tuesday asks, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“That is totally up to you. It is a powerful tool that you shouldn’t take lightly. Think long and hard before you decide, as there are no take backs,” Megan warns.
Tuesday ponders everything she has just learned. She is ready to make a decision.
“I want the amulet now. Where do I go?”
Megan gestures for Tuesday to follow her through a second door.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
uesday is back in her office at the T gym. It’s around 11 am and the gym already buzzes with activity.
One fighter known as Scorpion clears out his locker and kicks the door shut. He’s pissed that Tuesday has asked him to leave for non-payment of his dues.
With a head the size of a bowling ball and two fists like cinder blocks, he is a very intimidating presence to most men, and especially to women.
Scorpion bad-mouths Tuesday to a few of the fighters before he decides to confront her face-to-face, despite others telling him to let it go and to leave with some dignity.
Scorpion takes the stairs three at a time and punches the door open to her office. It slams against the side wall and startles Tuesday.
Another fighter bounds up the stairs to intervene. However, The Scorpion assures the fighter that everything is cool and that he won’t touch her; he just wants to have a civil conversation.
Tuesday Scorpion that he can speak his peace before he goes. The other fighter
slowly backs out and shuts the door to her office. He leaves a crack in the door to overhear the conversation and in case he needs to intervene again.
Tuesday is a bit rattled but quickly composes herself. She rubs her gauzewrapped wrist out of anxiety though Scorpion sees it as fear.
She remains stoic as Tuesday would never give this goon the satisfaction of knowing he’s unnerved her.
“What is it Scorpion?” Tuesday says as she takes several steps towards him with her arms folded in front of her.
Scorpion devours her with his eyes. He imagines what it would be like to control her, to fuck every hole she has. He licks his lips as he settles his gaze on her ripe breasts that rest on her folded arms.
“Oscar understood. He gave us options” Scorpion spouts.
Tuesday walks back over to the desk and pulls out Scorpion’s file, “I see what you mean by options. The only option I see is you skipping 13 months of dues, and Oscar going further in the red.”
“Oscar gave us credit!” Scorpion shouts as he takes a step towards Tuesday.
“They should call you ‘I.O.U.’ instead of the Scorpion. You’ve won your last five bouts, yet you haven’t put a dollar towards your bills. I’m sorry, either you pay what you owe today, in cash, or you’re not welcome to train here. That’s
the deal.”
Tuesday lays down the law to a lawless man who doesn’t see an authority figure, but pussy on a stick.
“You know what I could do to you?” the Scorpion says as he grabs his package and rolls it around his hand.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Tuesday says as she stares him dead in his face.
“I imagine your tits are full of nectar. I’d milk you like a cow; a heifer. Then I’d rip that pretty little skirt of yours off and see what kind of forest lies between your legs. Ummm, you want that, don’t you,” The Scorpion taunts.
“Get out,” Tuesday says as she points to the door, “Or I’ll have you thrown out.”
“I’d spread those meaty thighs of yours and shove my cock so far and so deep into your woman hole that I would split you in half; from the inside out,” Scorpion taunts.
The fighter at the door comes back in and shoves the Scorpion out the office. The Scorpion swings at the other fighter to signal him to get his hands off of him.
Tuesday sits behind her desk and shakes from head to toe. She is so unnerved, that she can’t even pick up a pen to sign a check.
Tuesday rubs against her gauze-wrapped wrist before she pulls a bottle of water out of her desk and drinks it.
The Pretty walks into the gym as The Scorpion exits. The Scorpion bumps The Pretty with his shoulder on the way out.
The Pretty tosses his duffel bag to the floor and follows the Scorpion to his car.
“What’s your problem?” The Pretty says, demanding a response.
The Scorpion turns to face him. “There’s no problem, man. Only your cunt in the office will be getting hers,” he says offhanded.
Roman hauls off and punches The Scorpion across the chin with a clock that sends him flying on top of his car.
The Scorpion didn’t see this one coming. He wipes the blood from his lip, “So
you’re fucking her, right? That’s how you’re paying your dues?” he says as he does a spin and kicks Roman’s legs out from under him.
The other fighters in the gym hear the commotion and pile outside. One fighter is about to intervene when another stops him, “They have to work this out on their own,” he says.
The Pretty does a switch kick and lands his foot on the calf of the Scorpion, which causes him to buckle to the ground. He quickly jumps back up,
however, and shakes it off.
Both men are bare fisted and ready to end it quickly with a severe blow that could hospitalize either one.
The Scorpion is known for his lightning quick tags to the side abdomen that can rupture spleens and crack ribs.
The Scorpion swings his deadly cinder block fist but misses The Pretty’s side by mere inches. He then dives for the left leg of The Pretty and latches onto it.
Tuesday steps outside to see what is happing. However, she doesn’t have the stomach for this fight. She turns around and runs back inside.
The Pretty uses a take-down defense, swings and lands a steady barrage of under hooks. The point of contact leaves the Scorpion bruised and cut. But he’s very persistent in tries to take The Pretty down to the ground.
With a cut above his right eye, the
Scorpion ignores the pain as he blitzes The Pretty with a series of kicks that sends The Pretty tumbling on top of a vehicle.
The Scorpion jumps on top of the vehicle and raises his foot to stomp on The Pretty. However, The Pretty grabs the Scorpion’s foot with both hands and twists it like a rag. This action pops the Scorpions leg out of the hip socket. He tumbles to the pavement.
The Pretty jumps back to the ground as the Scorpion swipes his arm to knock
The Pretty off of his feet. The Pretty is down, and the Scorpion grabs his shirt and pounds away at his side.
The Pretty spins out of striking reach and uses his feet and knees to deal the final blows to the Scorpion.
The Scorpion puts his hands up to signal that he gives up.
The Pretty holds his side as he stands erect, “Someone call this man an ambulance.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
he Pretty perches himself on top of a T doctor’s table in a physical therapy office. The Doctor wraps his abdomen tightly with gauze and then secures it closed.
The Doctor examines Roman’s hands one at a time. He bends the fingers back and forth, separates the fingers and checks flexibility. He also checks for any breaks or hairline fractures.
The Doctor then rechecks x-rays of Roman’s hands and abdomen.
“See anything I should know about?’ the Pretty asks.
The Doctor walks back over to, The Pretty and takes off his shoes. He does the same tests with his feet and ankles that he just completed on his hands and wrists.
“Nothing serious, just some bruising. When is your next fight?” he asks.
“Less than a month,” Roman responds as he jumps off the table and puts his shirt on over the bandages.
“I’m going to have to ask you to take it
easy for a week and give your body a chance to heal. You took a beating, and it shows,” the Doctor orders.
“I can’t promise you that, doc. It’s the championship bout that I’ve groomed my mind, body and soul for, since day one,” Roman explains.
“I was afraid you’d say that. If you’re going to spar, protect your sides and your hands. Don’t go full tilt. Save that for the championship,” the Doctor admonishes.
“Now that I can do,” Roman agrees as he shoves his shoes on his feet.
The Doctor writes a prescription for pain medication. The Pretty waves it off as he grabs his jacket.
“I don’t need anything to take me off center,” Roman says as he shakes the Doctor’s hand and thanks him.
Back at home, The Pretty walks stiffly to the kitchen and opens the frig. He bends over to reach something on the bottom shelf and pulls a muscle.
There is a knock at the door. The Pretty stands erect. With his hand on his lower back, he answers the door. It’s Tuesday with a grocery sack. She steps inside and shuts the door behind her.
Tuesday removes her coat and takes the sack of groceries to the kitchen. She
rummages through his kitchen cabinets before she locates a bowl. She pulls it out and puts it next to the grocery bag.
Tuesday reaches inside the bag and pulls out warm chicken soup from the bag along with orange juice, ibuprofen, skinless chicken breasts and fresh bandages and tape.
She removes the plastic cover and pours the soup into a bowl and slides it over to Roman, who stands at his kitchen counter. She turns around to locate the utensil drawer.
“On the bottom right,” Roman directs.
Tuesday pulls out the drawer and finds a soup spoon. She presents it to Roman.
Roman isn't used to being taken care of in this way. No one in his life has ever done so, except for Mrs. Lopez on occasion. It feels alien to Roman, strange and awkward.
Roman takes a spoonful of the soup. It’s surprisingly good. He decides to pick up the bowl and gulp its entire contents down.
This swift movement causes him to wince in pain once he puts the bowl down on the counter. Tuesday walks around and sits next to The Pretty by the counter. He reaches for her wrist, ‘What happened?”
Tuesday yanks her arm back, “Careful. It’s a tattoo that needs to heal. It’s still sore.”
This response satisfies Roman as many women have tattoos on their wrists, lower back, and ankles.
Tuesday slowly rolls up, The tails of The Pretty’s shirt to reveal his bandages.
“What are you looking for?” Roman says, not really expecting a response.
Tuesday gently touches his bruised
wrapped area to locate the seam. She has him spin around in his chair as she peels open the wrap as if she were unraveling a mummy.
When she removes the used wrap, she notices his side and back carry black and blue marks. Oh, how she wants to lean over and kiss those away. It pains her to see his beautiful physique tainted.
Tuesday walks back around to face Roman. She reaches across his chest to grab the new bandages and tape. His pectorals have sweat droplets around his
nipples. What she would give to lick them dry.
But she was here for another reason. She gently wraps him in new bandages and secures them. She rolls down his shirt.
“That should do it,” she says as she tucks his shirt tails back into his waistband and accidentally brushes his member with two fingers. She quickly removes her hands from his waist.
“I hear congratulations is in order,”
Tuesday says to keep Roman from saying anything about what just happened.
“Save the congratulations for after the bout,” he lobs back.
“I’ll do that,” she responds. Tuesday grabs her purse and strides toward the door. “I wanted to personally thank you for what you did for me. It was completely unnecessary, but I appreciate it just the same.”
“The man’s filth. He had it coming,”
Roman throws back.
Tuesday takes a step forward and places her hand on Roman’s cheek. She then reaches for the door knob. Roman’s hand reaches for it at the same time. His hand linger’s on top of hers. He feels the electricity pass from her body to his.
Roman moves her hair away from her neck as he leans in and gently kisses her neck. Tuesday’s insides stir. She feels tingles from her vagina as it awakens and awaits his touch.
She breathes heavy as Roman spins her around and presses her ass against his cock as he nibbles on her neck. He gyrates back and forth as his hands press her hips closer to him. He can’t get enough of her. He can’t get close enough. He pulls her even closer as if they were glued together.
Tuesday reaches up over her head and locks her hands behind his neck. Her breasts rise up and defy gravity.
Roman untucks her shirt and slips his hands under her blouse. He squeezes her
breasts and fingers the nipples through her bra.
Tuesday moans in ecstasy as Roman slides his hands down her hips until he reaches the end of her skirt. He grabs hold of the hem and shimmies it up to her waist.
Roman glides his hand over her panties and grabs her crotch. He allows one finger to slip inside and touch her vagina. It’s wet and inviting.
Tuesday reaches back for his cock and unzips his pants. She takes hold of his cock through his shorts. It’s exactly what she thought it would be; long, thick and rock hard.
Roman pulls Tuesday’s panties down to her thighs as she steps to the side to give Roman full access to her pinkness. He titillates and pinches her fuzzy lips. He rolls the folds of her vulva in-between his indexes before her finger fucks her full on. Oh my God, she can’t believe this is happening. It feels so damn good. At this moment, she would do anything this man asked of her with no questions asked.
With his fingers, he beats her into a slippery submission.
She tightens up her clit every time he goes deep, and releases it, every time he withdraws. She has complete control over her clit the way a gymnast has control over every one of their muscles.
Damn. Wait, she can’t go any further. She has to stop this right now.
Tuesday abruptly pulls away as his fingers disengage. She jerks up her panties and pulls down her skirt. She shoves the bottom of her blouse back down her skirt.
“What the fuck, Tuesday,” Roman says as he stands with his pants at his ankles.
Tuesday turns around and kisses Roman on the mouth.
Hard.
He reciprocates and grabs her luscious plump ass with both hands. He squeezes them tightly wanting to toss her salad.
Tuesday can’t leave him like this. She takes his hard cock in her hand and strokes it firmly. She imagines it inside her mouth, inside her pussy, as she gets into a rhythm. Roman groans and squirms right before he comes. His body relaxes as Roman takes Tuesday in his arms and holds her tight. He doesn’t want to let go.
He whispers in her ear, “I want you
now. I want to taste you first hand. I want to get drunk off your juices.”
These words turn Tuesday on so much, that she almost forgets what she can and cannot do.
Roman pulls one of her breasts out and marvels at it’s shape and taste in between mouth fulls. He reaches down her skirt and inside her panties. He cups her vagina as he sucks her hard nipple. He sucks so intensely, that Tuesday releases cum into Roman’s hand. He grins with excitement as he pulls the
hand from her crotch and licks it dry.
Roman then grabs her at the waist and sits her on top of the counter. He spreads her legs with his head. He places her feet on top of his shoulders as he bites at her inner thighs and crotch.
Tuesday leans grips the edge of the counter.
He moves the panties to the side of her bush with his teeth.
Tuesday throws her head back and moans in ecstasy as Roman nibbles on her labia and slips his tongue in and out of her.
Her juices continue to drip as Roman slurps up every drop. Roman plays with his member to get it hard again. He pinches the tip until it oozes with cum. He stands up and steps into her. He rubs his cock on the outside of her vagina. He massages the crease between her legs and crotch, her labia and her clit with his dripping, stiff member.
Roman positions himself to enter her when Tuesday abruptly closes her legs and jumps off the counter. She backs away and picks up her purse once again.
“I can’t explain why. But trust me, I want to. I just can’t right now,” Tuesday manages to say.
Tuesday exits the house leaving Roman confused.
Roman wonders if he can truly trust a woman like her; one who puts the breaks
on something they both want; a woman with secrets he can’t begin to understand; a woman who may be lying to him.
Roman can handle a “no” from a woman, even a mysterious woman with secrets. But he won’t settle for a woman who chooses when to be honest with him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ranklin Forrest opens up at daybreak F every morning. Roman waits in his car and sips a black coffee while the Ranger unlocks the entrance and allows traffic to flow inside.
Sure he could have followed the same path as before with entering illegally, but he decides to wait, as he wants confirmation of what lies inside.
The Park Ranger climbs into her truck as Roman approaches, “Do you have a minute?” he asks in the most sincere way he can manage.
“What can I do for you,” the female Park Ranger says while she throws papers into the glovebox. Once she makes eye
contact with Roman, she’s pleasantly surprised by this beautiful specimen of a man.
Roman understands his control over a woman and uses it to get what he wants when he wants. “My dog ran off, and I can’t find him.”
“Oh no,” she says as she feigns concern. She’s way more interested in him than some lost canine. “What does he look like?” she asks as she climbs out of her truck, shuts the door and remotely locks it.
“He’s a small thing, fluffy white, bow in the hair. Her name is Popcorn.”
“That doesn’t sound like the type of dog you’d have,” she says as she continues her fishing expedition, “Is it your girlfriend's or wife’s?”
Roman smirks, “No, she’s all mine.”
The Forest Ranger tries to control her
excitement. “Then let's go. What direction did you see her run in?”
Roman walks along the fence, the same way he went before, but this time on the legal side of it. The Forest Ranger tries to keep the conversation going.
“You look familiar. Have we met before?” she asks as they walk through the thick brush. Roman uses his arms to break branches and clear the way for both of them.
“I don’t believe so,” he answers.
The Forest Ranger asks a follow-up question, “Are you, The Pretty?”
“You got me,” Roman confides, “But call me Roman.”
The Forest Ranger giggles to herself as she ogles Roman. Her eyes scan his masculine physique. She has never come this close to a celebrity before, and especially not one as sexy and handsome as, The Pretty.
“I caught your last bout at my friend’s house; the one with you and Razor. The guy is a slick one, but I was rooting for you the entire time,” she shares.
Roman turns and places a hand on her shoulder, “I appreciate that.”
Shivers run up and down the Forest Ranger’s arm. It feels like electricity was sent straight to her pussy. She twinges and shifts to hide its impact.
“Popcorn,” Roman calls out. The Forest Ranger follows suit. “Popcorn.”
Although she should be the one leading the way, she prefers that he does, so that she can enjoy the view. As he climbs over a log, he reaches out and takes her hand to help her make it over as well.
You would have thought that he had slipped his hands down her pants by the way she reacts, “Oooh, thhhanks soo soo much,” she purrs as he lets go of her hand.
They are deep in a wooded area and away from any bathroom. But Roman has to take a piss. Like most men, restrooms for urinating are a nice convince, but not a necessity.
“I have to take a leak. Give me a second,” Roman says as he turns his back on her.
“Oh, alright,” the Forest Ranger says as Roman finds the nearest tree and whips out his cock. He’s been drinking a lot of water and protein shakes, so his stream lasts for well over a minute.
Most women would turn their heads during this kind of awkward moment, but not this Forest Ranger. She takes a few quiet steps to the right to get a side view of this succulent man’s member.
My God, his dick is exactly what she envisioned a man such as The Pretty would have. She fixates on his circumcised cock with above average length. It’s thick with a slight curve up. He also looks like he trims his pubic hairs while still leaving a thick padding.
She is so turned on that she can’t turn away; even once he finishes, folds himself back in and turns to face her.
The Forest Ranger unbuttons the two top buttons of her shirt to cool off.
Roman has a little fun with her, “Come here,” he orders.
She takes one step at a time towards him. He grabs her hand and pulls her close. He places her hand on his cock.
“Go ahead, you can squeeze it.”
The Forest Ranger wastes no time as she uses both hands to massage his massive cock. Her vagina pulsates as she plays with his member.
Roman leans her up against a tree and stands inches from her face as she jacks him off. She uses one fist and tightly grabs his penis. She runs her hand up and down his shaft which causes friction.
A vein protrudes and runs the length of his member. He doesn’t kiss her or even touch her, but the proximity generates heat. Sweat streams down her breasts.
Roman has made a promise to himself that the next woman that he kisses will be Tuesday. The next woman that he touches will be Tuesday. The next woman that he makes love to will be Tuesday. But for now, he can get his rocks off with this Ranger in heat. He sees it as his civic duty.
Roman cocks his head back as he
explodes on the tree next to her hips. He puts his dick back in his pants, and they continue the trek as if nothing has happened.
The Forest Ranger is a bit embarrassed by what she’s done. But she is wouldn’t take any of it back. She only wishes he would have taken her as well.
However, the closer they get to the spot where he thinks he saw Tuesday, the slower the Forest Ranger walks. She begins to lag behind.
‘Is there a problem?” Roman asks.
“I just don’t think popcorn went this way. We should try another direction,” she says with a quivering voice.
“Now why would you say that?” Roman asks. “Popcorn could have gone either way.”
“Then let’s do things my way, alright?” she says with a look of fright in her eyes.
Roman can tell by her body language, her eyes, and her voice, that he was close to something big, and this Forest Ranger knows exactly what it is.
“I know my dog, let’s keep going this direction,” Roman orders, but the Forest Ranger stands her ground.
“You didn’t lose your dog, did you?” she says as she comes to the realization that Roman has ulterior motives.
Roman tells her the truth, “No, I didn’t.”
The Forest Ranger turns and heads back the way they came.
“Wait,” Roman shouts.
The Forest Ranger turns back around.
“What are you afraid of? Why won’t you go the rest of the way with me? What are you hiding?”
The Forest Ranger back peddles, “I’m not hiding anything. We’re off the beaten path and things could get hairy.”
“What do you mean, hairy?” Roman asks, “Bears, coyotes?”
The Forest Ranger moves in close to him to find a way to distract or deter him. She unzips his fly and shoves her hand inside. “I can think of a lot better things to do,” she says as she grabs his dick and balls. “There’s a cabin about an eighth of a mile just over my shoulder.”
Roman yanks her hand from his package and zips up his fly, “What aren’t you telling me?”
Frustrated, the Forest Ranger speaks in a low tone, “Things have happened in the direction you want to go. People have disappeared; others escape scared shitless. Something happened to them, but, they refuse to tell anyone what it was. So, if you want to go that direction, that’s fine with me. But you’ll be on your own. I’m heading back.”
Roman is so used to facing down his
enemies in the ring or cage. He knows who they are and what to expect. He studies their past behaviors and techniques. That is how he wins.
But this is a different situation. His enemy is unknown. He has no idea what lies ahead, if anything at all. But one thing is for sure; he’s damn well going to find out.
The Forest Ranger pivots on her heels and hikes back in the direction they just came from.
Roman comes to the very location where he squatted down and watched Tuesday get fucked by other-world beings. Or is it? Was it all just a nasty nightmare?
But if it was, why does this location feel so familiar? How come he recognizes the very shrub that he kneeled by the other night?
Roman walks out into the clearing and touches the tree Tuesday leaned up against. He remembers watching as one Being grabbed her breasts from behind; another kissed her while yet another
stuck his fingers inside her with a look of curiosity.
The picture is so sharp that it plays over in his mind like a movie before his eyes. He is convinced that it was no dream; that it was real.
Hovering up above him, high atop the trees are the three Forces who flap their wings in sync. Their wings are aerofoil shaped with a sharp trailing edge. They aim diagonally downward to create lift and suspension.
A twig snaps. Roman’s heart beats out of his chest as he quickly spins around and comes face to face with Tuesday.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
he three forces circle overhead as T Tuesday rolls up her sleeve to expose the amulet in a way the Forces can see, but without Roman’s attention being drawn towards it.
The three Forces focus in on the amulet etched into Tuesday’s wrist. They decide not to attack, but to hover and watch for now.
Tuesday breaks the silence, “You found the location.”
Roman doesn’t know how to feel. He’s thankful that Tuesday has admitted that this place is real but upset that she has lied to him. Roman also wonders how she was able to cover up any trace of
being with others?
“Then what I saw, it wasn’t a dream,” Roman states as fact.
Tuesday has to be extremely careful. She has to give him enough information to satisfy him, but not enough to put him in further danger.
“Yes, I was here, and you saw me,” Tuesday confides as she turns to walk away.
Roman reaches out and grabs her arm firmly in an aggressive move.
“You’re not going anywhere until I understand it all,” he pronounces.
Tuesday yanks her arm away from Roman. She glances upward and spots the three Forces. However, Roman still has no idea that they are above him.
She treads lightly.
“Okay. I’ll tell you,” Tuesday agrees.
Tuesday takes Roman’s hand and walks him to a log where they both have a seat; a place obscured from the view of the three Forces.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you, Roman.”
“No shit,” Roman offers up.
“You were here before, and so was I. But what you think you saw, didn’t happen,” Tuesday covers up.
“I came here to this place to meet up with an ex-boyfriend. He’s been following me around, and won’t take no for an answer.”
“I could have taken care of him,” Roman shoots back.
“No, I fight my own battles. I don’t want you dragged into any of this. He
discovered that you and I were spending work hours together, and he became jealous. He wants to be with me and doesn’t want anyone else in the picture. So he slipped something in your water meant to knock you out. It’s his way, the coward that he is, to get the upper hand over you. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance if you were one-hundred percent.”
“When did he have the chance?” Roman asks.
“He must have found a water bottle in
your unlocked car, that’s my guess. However, because you’re in excellent physical shape, the drug took much longer to react than he anticipated. So when you followed me here, the drug was slowly taking effect, I suppose. And when you found me, we were— I believe you know the rest.”
Roman stands up, “So there was only one person here?”
“Yes, just me and my ex. We got together just one last time. That’s all of it,” Tuesday concludes.
“But I swear I saw three of them, they were translucent and had wings. I can’t believe I just said that ” Roman says, embarrassed.
Tuesday stands up next to him, “It was only him. Your mind must have played tricks on you. You weren’t yourself; you were drugged.”
Tuesday reaches over and wraps her arms around Roman’s neck, “I am so sorry you had to get mixed up in my
mess, Roman.”
Roman reciprocates the hug with some hesitancy at first before he squeezes her tight in his arms.
“What type of drug was it?” Roman speaks in her ear.
“What?” Tuesday responds as she loosens her embrace.
“What type of drug? I have to know if it’ll affect my performance or qualification tests before the championship bout.”
Tuesday backs away a few steps. She hadn’t thought this story all the way through. She had to make up a drug that creates hallucinations but is not harmful to the body. She then recalls one she experimented with while in grad school to cope with her insane schedule.
Tuesday informs Roman,“I believe he said it was Salvia. It’s a herb. The
effects aren’t lasting, but they make you believe in things that aren’t there. It sort of creates an alternative universe.”
Roman pulls out his cell phone and Googles “Silva.” reads about it on its wiki page:
Salvia divinorum (also known as Sage of the Diviners, Ska María Pastora, Seer's Sage, and just Salvia) is a psychoactive plant that can induce visions and other hallucinatory experiences.
“What the hell?” Roman says as he reads further and discovers that someone can use a dropper to dispense a few droplets in water. But what Roman is more concerned about is the side effects. He continues reading the wiki page:
- Past memories, such as revisiting places from childhood memory - Sensations of motion, or being pulled or twisted by forces - Visions of membranes, films, and various two-dimensional surfaces - Overlapping realities, such as the perception of being in several locations at once
Roman shoves his phone back in his pocket, “So you allowed me to be drugged, and you didn’t say a goddamn thing? What is wrong with you?”
Tuesday profusely apologizes, “I am so so sorry, Roman. I had no idea he would go that far. I only found out about it after the fact. If I had any idea that he would go that far, I would have said something. Will you forgive me?”
Roman picks up a downed tree limb and smashes it across the trunk of a nearby tree in anger. His face is red, and his fist
coiled.
He shouts at Tuesday, What is his name?”
Tuesday can’t tell him for fear he will discover that he died seven months ago.
With intensity in his eyes, Roman strides towards Tuesday and again she backs up. She’s afraid of what he might do and afraid of what might happen to him.
“Roman grabs her by the shoulders and grips her tight, “What is the son of a bitch’s name? That man who drugged me?”
Tuesday remains silent.
“Are you protecting this man? Are you still in love with him?”
Love… that’s the first time that word has ever come out of his mouth. Roman has never said it to anyone, nor used it in a sentence. Women have said it to him and
asked him to say it back when he’s fucking them, but he never does.
Tuesday breaks away from his grip, “I do, still, feel something for him, but it is not love. It’s a bit of obligation and pity mixed with lust. I’m sure you can understand where I’m coming from, can’t you?”
Of course, Roman has experienced the same type of insane relationship. He’s had no problem fucking random women purely for lust… and never for love.
Roman finds himself doubting how he has interacted with women. He’s surprised Tuesday admitted satisfying her lustful urges.
But there is something about Tuesday that demands much more than a passing fling. He’s fallen in love with her. He wants to ask her if she feels the same, but he is afraid of the answer.
Tuesday runs back into Roman’s arms. She leans into him as their lips hover close to each other but don’t touch.
They are drawn together by a hint of a promise and a dash of rejection.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ans and press pack the sixteenF thousand-seat arena. All want to get a look at the main card lineup between The Pretty and Lucky Lewis.
The pre-fight interview always draws fans and press from around the world. Twenty-foot banners with The Pretty and Lucky Lewis’ faces flank both sides of the dais.
Multiple camera flashes nearly blind the fighters as camera operators jockey for the premium positions.
The Pretty wears a crisp white shirt and tie. He’s clean-shaven with his hands folded in front of him. Al has a seat next to him. He places a hand on his shoulder for encouragement.
Lucky Lewis wears a flashy dark purple suit and dark shades to match his skinny black tie. He has a cocky look on his face. Allistor sits next to him.
A Grey-haired Suit stands at the mike, “Welcome to UFC 202. I would like to thank the fighters, the media, the Athletic Commission, and our partners. This weekend will be one for the ages. With this championship battle already making headlines across the globe, the fight promises to be extraordinary. We have The Pretty vs. Lucky Lewis, fighting for
the light-heavyweight title.”
The crowd cheers for both fighters. Roman rises to his feet and waves to the crowd as Lucky Lewis does a fist pump in the air before they both sit back down.
The Grey-haired Suit continues, “Fans will witness either The Pretty take what is rightfully his, or witness Lucky Lewis, the underdog, mastermind the upset of the century.”
Both cheers and jeers, shouts and
screams erupt in the auditorium for both fighters. However, the cheers for Roman drown out the jeers for Lucky.
“And don’t forget to attend the UFC Fan Weekend and Expo. I hope everyone has downloaded our app to keep up with our current schedule. Now I’ll take the first question,” the Suit says.
Press members raise their hands, and he picks a Reporter from the crowd.
The Reporter rises, “Mike Dugan, USA
Sports. Of course this is not the fight we were geared up for. No one expected Lucky Lewis to get a shot at the championship this early—“
Lucky Lewis leans forward and shouts in his mic while he cuts the Reporter off, “Why the hell not?”
The Reporter, a bit surprised by the outburst, responds, “Well, you barely made weight, your record losses almost equal your wins. Many here think you haven’t earned it.”
There are a spattering claps in the crowd.
Lucky Lewis stands up and kicks his chair away from him as it flies up and crashes into the back wall. The Reporter looks around for Security as he’s scared shitless.
Lucky responds, “Ain’t this America, bitch?”
The Grey-haired Suit pipes in, “Let him finish his question, Lewis. Take your
seat.”
Lewis doesn’t break eye contact with the Reporter as someone picks up his chair and puts it back behind him. Lewis unhurriedly sits back down.
The Reporter is a bit frazzled, but he continues, “So how has the main card line-up changed things?” He then takes a seat.
The Suit responds, “Ticket sales have surpassed eight million, and that doesn’t
include pay-per-view. Those figures are through the roof. On top of that, sixtythousand fans are coming to the arena. This fight is as big, if not bigger than what was anticipated.”
The suit points to another Reporter, “John Phillips, Sports Central. Can you explain what exactly happened with The Dragon? There were conflicting reports. Some said he had a broken rib, and others said he didn’t. There was even social media chat that the UFC was going to force him to fight, even with a broken rib, regardless. Can you clarify?”
The Suit clears his throat and takes a sip of water from a bottle, “First off, there was no confusion on our end. But know this, all fighter’s safety and health is our utmost concern. We would never force anyone to fight if it endangered their health. Those rumors are categorically false. Now with that being said, The Dragon went to several doctors. All looked at the x-rays. Two came up with the same conclusion, and one did not. One said he was cleared to fight, and the other two said he was not because his rib and cartilage injuries were too severe. So that is why he is not here today. But we know The Dragon will be watching the main card and rooting for both men.”
Another Reporter stands to address the panel, “Tucker Ellis, Fox Sports. I’d like to address The Pretty. Apparently Lucky Lewis is getting credit and heat from stepping in on short notice. But you also are now faced with a different fighter than what you have trained for. At the last minute, you’re taking on an entirely different stylistic fighter. How will you handle this? What is your new mindset?”
The Pretty scoots close to the microphone and speaks, “My mind is bulletproof. Solid.”
There are cheers from the crowd.
The Pretty continues, “I’m number one. Who gives a shit if number two bows out and number five steps in his place. Number two, three, four, five; makes no difference to me. I’m still number one.”
Lucky grimaces as the crowd erupt in applause and a standing ovation.
Once they settle down, The Pretty continues, “I am happy to be here and happy to give the fans what they want. Make no mistake, I’m the reason there is an eight-million-dollar gate on this fight. They’re coming to see me, not whoever happens to be in the other corner.”
Lucky Lewis wants to stand again, however, Allistor whispers in his ear as he holds him down with a firm hand on his shoulder.
Allistor says, “Remember, it’s all for show. Let him have his moment now
because it will be the last one he’ll ever get.”
Lucky Lewis calms down and smirks from the side of his mouth. He does grab the microphone in front of him and cuts Roman off, “This number four will embarrass you in front of your fans. You won’t know what happened when it all goes dark, after the strikes and blitzes from this number four.”
The crowd is on their feet. Some cheer while others boo. They lean in and await The Pretty’s response.
The Pretty continues, “In my opinion, Lucky is a very one-dimensional fighter. He’s a long, south-paw stand-up fighter. That’s it. No wrestling background, no Jujitsu. You take away all his hype, his colorful clothes and he’s left with nothing. I’m going to destroy Lucky Lewis.”
There are more hoots and applause from the crowd.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ack at the gym, Roman spars with B multiple partners and trains with Al and other experts in their fields.
He first starts out with calisthenics, then stretches. He jumps from floor exercises to a punching bag, to Roman Gecko wrestling moves. Once done with that, he climbs into the ring for more boxing strategies, kickboxing training, as well as Jujitsu.
Every day is a ten hour training day. Roman powers through the soreness of ribs and focuses on his techniques. Although he’s a better fighter than Lucky, he never underestimates what can happen in a ring.
Roman has personally witnessed champions get cocky and under-train, only to find themselves flat on their asses in the ring. That’s not going to happen to Roman if he can help it.
Al and the rest of the fighters have left the gym. Roman remains as he goes through drills one last time.
Tuesday adjusts the waistband on her slacks and tucks the tail to her shirt back into her pants. She walks down from her office, being careful not to disturb his training. She sits on the third stair from
the bottom and rests her chin on her knuckles until Roman calls it a night.
Roman catches her gaze. He jogs over to her and sits down next to her on the steps.
“You look good. You look ready,” Tuesday assures.
Roman shrugs his shoulders, “I never feel one-hundred percent ready no matter how hard I train, or how many hours.”
“That surprises me,” Tuesday says, “You always seem so confident in the cage. I’ve never seen a look of doubt in your face, ever when training.”
“I never doubt myself in the ring. Once I’m there, it’s all over. I do what I need to do. But before that time, I always wonder if I’ve done enough,” Roman confides.
“You’re doing enough,” Tuesday assures.
She wants to say something more but bites her tongue.
Roman picks up on it, “What do you want to say?”
Tuesday turns to face him, “Have you sized up Lucky? He’s not a clean fighter. He will do whatever it takes to win. You need to watch out for him.”
Roman chuckles, “Of course. He’s all flash. He tries to draw emotions out of his opponents; that’s how he operates. I
also know he’s not above illegal tactics. But I can’t worry about that. I’m focused on my game.”
“How do you focus on your game and not get caught up in his antics?” Tuesday asks.
“Simple. I keep my emotions in check no matter what he pulls.”
Tuesday is not surprised by the response and asks a follow-up question, “I’ve noticed that that’s the way you live your
life, inside and outside the Octagon. You keep your emotions in check. Have you ever considered letting your guard down, just once, just a little bit?”
Roman wipes his face with a towel, then slings it over his shoulder, “Now why would I do that when so much is at stake?”
“I’m not talking about your fight tomorrow, I’m talking about us,” she spills.
“I didn’t know there was an us,” Roman says so quickly that it catches Tuesday off-guard.
Perhaps everything that she feels, everything that she wants, is all onesided. Perhaps he’s not the type of man to ever get serious with a woman or trust her completely. Not that she hasn’t given him a reason for pause.
Tuesday rises from the step and turns to walk back upstairs when Roman grabs her forearm and pulls her down onto his lap. She puts one arm around his neck to
steady herself.
“You’re a very complicated man,” Tuesday blurts out.
“I don’t believe so. I have basic thoughts and simple goals,” Roman responds, “I live by a simple set of rules.”
“Simple Rules, huh. What are they?” Tuesday asks.
Roman puts his arm around her waist and pulls her closer, “Always do your best, give when you can, and just a little bit more. And always expect the same in return from others.”
“There is nothing in those set of rules about loving yourself, or finding love. Are you against… love?” Tuesday asks, not quite sure if she would hear the response that she longs to hear.
Roman normally has a pat answer to such a question that he would spit out every time someone asked him. The
typical response is that he’s in love with winning, with the dance in the ring. Period. But this time he thinks long and hard before responding as he’s in love with this woman. He could see himself with her, with HER.
But he’s let his insecurities block him from getting close to a woman for fear of getting used, or hurt. But maybe it was time to let Tuesday in. Just maybe Tuesday is the one he’s been waiting for his entire life.
Roman takes Tuesday’s leg and pulls it
around his back so that she sits facing him with her legs wrapped around his hips.
He removes his gloves and places them next to him. Although he has wiped away his sweat, the scent of him is still strong.
Roman seizes Tuesday’s hips and draws her into his abdomen.
Roman lets down his protective wall and lays it all on the table. He has never admitted what he’s about to say, to
anyone, until now. “I’m scared, Tuesday. And I haven’t been scared since I was eleven years old.”
Tuesday places his face in her hands, “What are you afraid of, Roman?”
Roman takes a moment as he’s not used to spilling his guts or sharing feelings. It feels awkward and uncomfortable to him. But perhaps, that’s what real love feels like. He is willing to give this a real shot.
“I’m afraid that as soon as I tell you what you mean to me, that something will come between us, something very powerful. It will be something neither of us can control or shut down, and we’ll be lost to each other. I know this makes no sense,” Roman confides. Roman’s mind races, simply embarrassed to have even said anything.
Still on his lap, Tuesday scoots in closer to Roman and leans her head on his shoulder.
Roman is surprised by this tender
moment. He wraps his arms around her waist as his head drops past her shoulder.
They stay in this position in complete silence with their breaths synced to one rhythm.
Roman wonders if this is what it feels like to be loved unconditionally. Why was he so fortunate to have found such a compassionate, unselfish and giving human being like Tuesday?
Neither wants to let the other go.
For the first time in Roman’s life, he feels genuine closeness, a sense of belonging, and even safety in her arms. He knows he can trust her with his heart.
He pushes down deep the negative thoughts that have plagued him about Tuesday, Franklin Forrest, and her exboyfriend. None of that matters right now.
For a man about to step into the cage
tomorrow and decimate his opponent, The Pretty can only fill his thoughts with Tuesday.
CHAPTER TWENTY
he auditorium is at full capacity, and T the roar of the crowd is almost deafening. Thousands have come to witness the ultimate fight of the century.
The men are in their perspective corners psyching themselves out for the match. Al rubs down The Pretty to work out the tense knots in-between his shoulder blades.
Roman searches the crowd for Tuesday. She sits five rows back from the ring. She gives him a friendly wave and blows him a kiss.
Roman winks at her before he refocuses his attention to inside the cage.
Allistor stands next to Lucky as his trainer rubs him down. “Remember, slow and steady. Dodge. Defense only the first two rounds.”
Lucky spits in a bucket, “I can take this guy in one.”
“I believe you’re quite delusional, Lucky. You’re no match for The Pretty. You can nurse your bruised ego after you cash your check. We’ve gone over this. Stick to the script.”
Allistor taps Lucky’s shoulder with his cane and exchanges knowing looks with the Referee before he steps outside of the cage.
Al puts a bottle of water to The Pretty’s lips as he takes a few swigs.
The Pretty and Lucky stomp around the cage near their corners to get their adrenaline up.
Fans hold up signs for both fighters as they cheer in anticipation of the bell.
The Television Commentators go over the rules of the fight. “Three judges score the fight based equally on Striking, Grappling, Effective Aggression and Cage Control. It’s a ten point MUST system. Knees or downward elbows to the head of a grounded opponent are not allowed. And only the Referee or Doctor can stop the fight.”
The bell sounds and the lights go down. A spotlight shines on the Announcer, who is center cage.
“Welcome ladies and gentleman to the UFC featured bout of the evening; all made possible by Guzzle Energy Drink and HBO. This fight is sanctioned by the Athletic Commission, and its chairperson, Daniel Betters.”
The Announcer continues, “Introducing our three judges, scoring from cage side; all from Florida; Hector Montez, Chris Tangle and Bill Goodwin. And our third man in the cage, introducing tonight’s Referee, Troy Evans.”
And now, what the crowd has been waiting for. The Announcer gears up to announce the two fighters, “It’s the lightheavyweight attraction… and nooo ooo ow it's sss sss shoo ooo time!”
The crowd erupts with chants of “The Pretty” and “Lucky.” Fans hold their signs up above their heads and shake them in a rhythmic pace to their chants. Spotlights sweep the crowd as excitement reaches a climax.
“Let me introduce the fighter standing on my right, in the red corner and standing
six foot two inches and a weight of two hundred and four pounds. His record stands at twelve wins, zero losses, five wins by way of a knockout and two by way of submission. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome the fists of fury himself, Theeeeeee Pretttttttttty!”
The Pretty raises both arms and walks around the cage to rile up the crowd. Fans chant his name Pre-tty, Pre-tty, Pretty as they hold up compact mirrors in solidarity.
The Announcer does the final
introduction. “On my left, standing six foot and weighing one hundred and ninety-nine pounds, with a record of four wins, eight losses, ladies, and gentleman, please welcome the southpaw sensation, Luuuuuuuucky Leeeeeeeeewis!”
Fans chant Lu-cky, Lu-cky, Lu-cky. Lucky prances around the cage and shakes his fist at the crowd.
“Now to give the instructions, fighters center ring,” the Announcer orders.
The Pretty and Lucky Lewis face off as the crowd shouts their names. The energy in the arena is volcanic.
The Referee gives the instructions, “Gentleman, this is the main event, this is show time. You know the rules. I want a good clean fight. I won’t tolerate anything less. Go back to your corners and let's rock.”
The two fighters do as instructed. The Pretty gets last minute advice from Al, “Save your energy during this round. Let his tire himself out.”
Roman slaps his hands together and rolls his neck to loosen it up before the first bell.
The Referee points to The Pretty, “Fighter, are you ready?” He points to Lucky Lewis, “Fighter are you ready?”
Both fighters say yes as the bell sounds.
The fighters enter the center ring and
circle each other.
Lucky Lewis is a southpaw while The Pretty is Orthodox. The Pretty lands hard body kick. The two trade punches as The Pretty lands an inside leg kick. Lucky charges and lands a right, but The Pretty circles out and away from Lucky.
Lucky receives a crushing body shot from Lucky, but he quickly rebounds and clips Lucky.
They exchange bombs. It looks like
Lucky is hurt, so he backpedals, but The Pretty isn’t letting up. He presses Lucky into the fence. The Pretty is all over Lucky, but Lucky is saved by the bell.
Roman returns to a waiting Al, “I thought we agreed to conserve your energy?” he says as he applies ice packs to Roman’s back and shoulders.
Tuesday is pleased with the fight so far. It’s going precisely as she has envisioned.
The bell rings again which signals round two.
Lucky charges out and lands an inside leg kick to The Pretty’s left calf. He then dives toward The Pretty’s single leg and grabs ahold of it.
But The Pretty uses an under-hook before he crosses his other leg to land a half-guard. Lucky is on his back and scrambles and twists to get released. He does and jumps back to his feet. Lucky lands every third move, but he’s consistent. The Pretty goes deep and
lands another hard body kick. He presses Lucky again into the fence. However, the Referee separates them for inactivity. Lucky scores with a round of hard body kicks, a leg sweep and a left hook to end the round.
Lucky slowly moves towards his corner and plops down. He know’s he’s losing, and losing big time. He looks over his shoulder at Allistor, who sits near cageside. Allistor tips his cane. The Referee glances again at Allistor before the third and final bell sounds.
The fighters step out of their corners for this third and final UFC light heavyweight championship title round.
The Pretty is up by four points at fiftysix. He has scored perfect tens from all three judges in the past two rounds. However, the Referee deducts points in two rounds for what he calls holding and fish hooking.
The Pretty’s opponent, Lucky Lewis, catches a few “lucky breaks.” Bookies give him 100 to 1 odds that he would make it to the third and final round
against, The Pretty.
But the odds will turn in his favor. Lucky misses three swings as The Pretty’s lightning quick agility saves him from impact.
However, Lucky pretends to slip as The Pretty takes advantage of the fall and lands on top of him. He wraps his body around his and slides him over to the fence once again. However, Lucky twists out and conceals a rabbit punch to the base of The Pretty’s skull.
The Referee sees the banned technique, however, says nothing and does nothing. The Referee glances over at Allistor as he allows the fight to continue.
A blow like this can normally knock a player out, and possibly send them to an early grave. Yet, The Pretty manages to stand up.
Tuesday is use to brutal fights between men in cages and knows The Pretty can handle himself, but this is different. She recognizes the illegal blow and jumps from her seat and charges towards the
ringside Doctor. Unfortunately, she is stopped by Security.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” A Security Officer bellows, “Please take your seat.”
“Didn’t you see that?” Tuesday responds in a hyper state of agitation.
The Security Officer shakes his head and blocks her from going any farther.
From The Pretty’s corner, Al sees the illegal blow and gestures to The Pretty as to what to do. However, Roman waves him off as per The Pretty’s demands.
The Pretty refuses to allow a single punch to take him down, even if it’s an illegal one.
Officials, the Cornerman, everyone running the bout say The Pretty just looks tired, yet Tuesday knows otherwise. They all miss key moments where they should intervene to help, The Pretty.
The second sign of trouble comes towards the middle of this final round. The Pretty slightly staggers after he lands a Muay Thai short-range strike.
Tuesday recognizes his stagger as a gait disturbance, evidence of his changing condition. Why haven’t the referee or officials, or the coaches stopped the bout, Tuesday wonders?
The Pretty takes a jab and a leg kick from Lucky. The Referee reprimands
Lucky for an illegal groin kick. Lucky’s back faces The Pretty as he stumbles. He doesn’t have his feet under him at this point. This is the first indication of a deteriorating fighter. As the fight progresses, The Pretty’s feet cross, which puts him in a vulnerable position.
The ringside Doctor glances up at The Pretty and Lucky and ignores all the warning signals before he returns to texting. He takes his eyes completely off the fighters at a time when he should monitor them closely.
The Pretty is on the ropes as Lucky lands an uppercut. The Referee steps in and asks The Pretty if he wants to continue.
“Hell yeah,” The Pretty manages as he staggers back to his feet and into the center of the ring to confront Lucky.
From the sidelines, Tuesday shouts to the Referee, “Do a standing eight count.” However, her words are ignored. Or perhaps they are drowned out by the crowd.
Tuesday pushes her way towards the three judges before Security notices. Tuesday grabs the shoulder a Judge and asks, “Why in the hell is the Referee even in the ring if he’s not going to protect the safety of the fighters? You saw that illegal blow, why are you letting this continue?”
The Judge gestures for Security to take her away.
The bell sounds as both fighters return to their corners. The Pretty grabs ahold of the cage to steady himself but is
unsuccessful. He loses his balance as Al catches him.
The ringside Doctor again glances into both corners before he returns to texting on his cell phone.
Al holds up The Pretty by his neck and shoulders as the Timekeeper taps the Doctor on his shoulder to get his attention.
The Pretty collapses to the ground.
Tuesday screams as she manages to make her way into the ring. She places The Pretty’s head in her lap and speaks to him, “Roman, Roman can you hear me? Speak to me, Roman!”
But The Pretty is old cold; and not the type of unconsciousness that comes and goes. This is so serious that Tuesday realizes that he may never awaken.
There is pure chaos inside and outside the cage. Allistor rises from his seat and strides away.
Lucky stands center cage as the Referee slaps Lucky on the back and raises his arm as the victor.
Paramedics arrive and attend to, The Pretty.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
uesday returns to Franklin Forrest. T The last time she was here, was with Roman.
She covers the amulet etched on her wrist with a scarf as the three Forces lightly touch down in front of her.
She approaches the First Force with these words, “I know what my wish is now.”
# THE END #
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I wish I could personally thank each one of you for coming across my books and actually clicking on the BUY button. I hope I haven’t disappointed any of you.
You are a major reason why I write. Sure I’d continue to write even if no one purchased a book. But it is a lot more satisfying to know that you actually enjoy following my characters on their sexy rides.
If you have a question, or just want to say hi, feel free to EMAIL ME.
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All the Best, Darlene
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(SUICIDE, A STEPBROTHER ROMANCE) BOOK 1 OF 4
I stand at the edge of the ocean with my toes buried in the sand. I remove my clothing one piece at a time. First my jacket, then my shirt and bra; followed by my sweatpants and panties.
No one is around. I'm alone on this beach, so I feel liberated. It's a relief to have finally made the decision to leave this world the same way that I came into it.
No one would miss me. My ex-boyfriend dumped me for a red-headed sorority girl with freckles. Can you believe that?
My mom remarried and now has a shiny new stepson to brag about named Jake.
I can't stand Jake. He's an alpha male about as perfect as perfect comes. Especially when compared to me. His first year in college and he's already on the Dean's list. He's a Rugby player with a million cheap dates throwing themselves at him.
What do I have? A piece of crap car that squeals every time I start it up, three Facebook friends and my incontinent dog, Buttons. I'd say that's not much to
live for in my opinion.
I walk towards the water's edge and stick my toes in. Pretty chilly. But what do I care? I wade into the ocean, knee, then waist, then chest deep. My lips skim the surface of the water. I allow myself to sink without putting up a fight.
Just then, I'm yanked by the arm, thrown over the shoulder and brought back to shore. It's Jake.
As I lay naked in his arms, my eyes
transfixed on his pink, smooth lips that curl up at the corners. Why do I suddenly want to kiss him?
“What the hell are you doing?” Jake shouts. I say nothing. Jake can’t help but run his eyes over my fully naked body in his state of exasperation.
I should be embarrassed, but I’m not.
I should be grateful, but I’m not.
It must have been a full minute before Jake grabs my shirt and covers me with it. I sit up.
“Why did you do it?” I ask. Jake shakes his head, “You mean save your pretty little ass?”
“Yes. How did you know I was here?”
Jake responds, “Your mom told me where to find you.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘our’ mom?” I ask.
“She’s my step-mother. I have a real mother. She just happens to be in France with her new amoureux. He probably wears a beret and scarf and has one of those skinny mustaches.”
I laugh out loud at his description of his mother’s lover. “See, life is good!” Jake pronounces.
I stand up and begin to put my clothes back on. Jake stands as well and turns
his back with false modesty so that I can’t see that he is hard. I’m sure from rescuing me and all; must be an adrenaline rush thing.
I study his form while I dress. His jeans hug his lean hips and flow over his round backside as if they were made specifically for him. His white shirt is tucked in at the waist. I wish I were that shirt.
I’ve only gotten glimpses of his six-pack chest from a youtube video of one of his rugby games where he tares off his shirt
after he scores a try before the conversion kick.
Yeah, I know a little something about rugby. I studied up once Jake came into our lives. But I would never let him know that.
I’ve known Jake exactly three months and two days; this being day two. His father could not be prouder of his studly son, nor my mother.
I’m the black sheep of the family; the one
with all the problems that my mom is happy to ignore. When Jake and his dad, Ben moved in, my mom finally had her perfect family. That is, it would be perfect if I weren't in the way.
I slip my panties back on, my bra, shirt and sweatpants. “You can turn around now,” I announce to Jake.
Jake spins around slowly. Still drenched my cotton shirt clings to my saturated bra. My nipples round and hard, pierce through. I tame my pulsating pussy by squeezing my cheeks together.
I can’t believe I am feeling this way. Perhaps it’s from almost dying. That must surely be it.
“So why did you want to see me?” I asked Jake.
Jake takes a step closer and grabs my hand. “I know you’ve been having a rough time of it. Though I don’t know why.”
He blushes, “You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.” After a nervous laugh, he continues, “I’m heading back to campus, and I want you to come with me. I’ll show you the sites, take you to a party. Maybe you’ll want to enroll. You certainly have the grades for it.”
After a moment of thought, “Sure,” I said, “Why not.”
Jake responds, “Great! Your mom has already packed you a bag. I have it in my car. Let’s go.”
“Now?” I said in a raised voice, a bit surprised at how fast things were progressing. “Why not now?” he asked.” “We can call AAA and have them tow your car back to the house. Cool?”
“Cool,” I said, when I really meant, oh shit. I’ve gone from sixty to zero, back to sixty in the span of thirty minutes. I came here thinking I had nothing left, and now I’m leaving with my stepbrother, a man so damn hot I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.
All I felt towards him was anger and resentment for having it all, which left me with so little. So why is he so nice to me now?
I’ve never shown him any kindness. In fact, it’s been quite the opposite. I’ve gone out of my way to ignore him, skip his games and eat dinner in my room to avoid him and his father.
I even left a few nails in the driveway to puncture his tire after he came back home from some A-list beach bonfire. But that backfired. Instead of puncturing
his tire, it punctured my moms.
We walk to his car, and sure enough I see my suitcase in his back seat. He opens my car door for me. I stand there wondering what the hell he’s doing; wondering if he wanted to get something out the front seat first.
“Haven’t you had a man open a car door for you before?” I said no. I’m so used to just climbing in. I had no idea Jake was so damn old-fashioned.
But I have to admit, I like it. I like feeling special.
I roll down the window and stick my head out; the same way Buttons does it. My wet hair clings to my shoulders. I try to brush it back with my fingers, but I just make more of a mess of things.
Jake reaches over my lap and brushes past my inner thighs before he opens the glove box. “Look inside,” he tells me. I do and find a comb. I use it to tame my tangled curls.
“I’ve always loved your hair,” Jake confides as we make our way down the road. “The way your curls bounce up and down, reminds me of… never mind.”
Jake blushes and tries to change the subject. I’ve never seen him embarrassed before.
But now I am curious, “Reminds you of what, Jake?” Jake takes his eyes off the road for a moment as he stares into my eyes with a deep piercing stare; the type of stare that curls your toes and wets
your panties. His eyes jump from my chest to my eyes and back again.
“Reminds me of how a woman looks when she’s on top of you, straddling you… sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
I reassure Jake that it’s okay and that I wasn’t offended. In fact, I was aroused. I pictured myself as that woman straddling him as he drove.
Jake calls me by my name, and it feels like the first time that I’ve heard it.
“Sidney.” I had no idea my name could sound so romantic, and flow off the tongue like honey.
“Sidney, you tried to kill yourself tonight. That is serious. I have no idea if you would have gone through with it or not. But you took the first step. I have no business… I don’t want to take advantage of you or the situation.”
Take advantage? Jake had no idea. If it were not for him, I would not be feeling more alive than I do now. I had no idea what it was to feel something for a guy; I
mean really feel something; a stirring in your soul and bones… until tonight.
I wanted Jake so bad I oozed estrogen.
I peeled my shirt collar from my still damp chest to dry my shirt. At least that is what I wanted Jake to believe.
I wanted to give him a glimpse of my breasts. I wanted him to start fantasizing as to what it would be like to be together.
Jake smiled at me and my lousy attempt to be coy. “What are you doing?” he asks.
I tell him I’m not trying to do anything, that I’m just sitting there minding my own business. But Jake knew the truth. I had to let him know that I was more than interested and that he would not be taking advantage of me.
“I need a dry shirt,” I announce to Jake. I peel off my top as he watches from his side-eye. I let the shirt fall to the ground as I turn around and reach for my
suitcase in the back seat.
I make sure that my ass is near his face as I reach in the back. I take my time searching for a shirt.
At first Jake pretends not to notice. But then he can’t help himself. He takes his right hand and gently massages my closest cheek. I pretend not to notice as I rummage through my suitcase.
Jake makes an attempt to cover his arousal, but he is unsuccessful. I hear a
few moans as he reaches towards my stomach and slowly unties my sweatpants string.
I shutter with anticipation as his fingers run along the waistband of my sweatpants before he ventures inside them with his fore and index finger.
I’m bent over as he widens my legs. I oblige. He takes his fingers and slowly walks them down toward by curly-cue bush that matches my hair.
His fingers tease my clit as I begin to rock in ecstasy. I so want his fingers to go inside me, but I don’t say a word. He playfully bites my ass before he plunges his fingers inside me, just past his knuckles.
I squeal in excitement as he makes me wet. He rhythmically pulls his fingers in and out, in and out until I am about to explode. He removes his fingers and yanks my sweatpants down to reveal my panties.
He slips his fingers in my panties and
runs them along my crack. He pulls my panties down as he sucks his fingers dry before playfully parting my anus wide enough for a quick lick with his tongue.
The car swerves to the right; we almost leave the road as we spray gravel along the side of the embankment. That only arouses us more.
I put it out of my mind who Jake is. He’s not related to me by blood, so it’s okay if I have to have him inside me; stepbrother or not. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I’ve never had anyone tongue me in the backside before. I’m not sure if I like it or not. It caught me off guard. But I am so aroused by his touch and his tongue, that Jake could do just about anything to me, and I’d let him.
I wonder if he’ll push the limit again? Would I be ready for that? I don’t know.
A trucker passes by and honks at us in approval. Jake shows off my licking my ass.
Jake uses his free hand to completely remove my sweatpants but keeps my panties on. I wonder what he has in mind.
He massages my crotch over my panties as I rock and twist back and forth trying to get a deeper massage and in hopes his fingers will find their way back inside my panties.
God, can this be happening? Jake, the stepbrother that I loathed, I now want to
screw? And not just screw, screw hard.
I’m not kidding myself. Neither one of us would call this making love. It’s lust and desire, pure and simple.
I’ve only just thought of Jake in this way all of an hour. I wonder how long he has wanted me? Was it just a spit-second decision like mine was? Or has he been planning this all along?
Right now I don’t care.
Jake runs his finger along the elastic of my panties and fingers my clit once again. This never gets old! But I decide it’s time to make some moves of my own.
I move back to the passenger seat and unhook my bra and remove it. I toss it in the back seat. I sit next to him in silence, topless, letting him take me all in.
Some women are embarrassed about their bodies; even if they’re a ten. Not me.
I’d consider myself a seven, maybe an eight. But I own that seven or eight. It’s me… take it or leave it.
Jake likes what he sees. He has to wipe away a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth.
I cup my breasts and move my hands in slow motion over every inch of my 36C’s.
Jake reaches for a breast, yet I pull away. I want him just to watch for now
and anticipate what’s to come.
I suck on my index finger, then trace the outside of my nipples. I’ve never seen them so raised and at attention.
I arch my back and squirm in my seat. Jake can’t take it any longer. He reaches over once again cups my breast for a moment before his hand slides down my abdomen towards my clit.
I spread my legs open as Jake walks his fingers inside my panties and inside me
once again. Only this time he’s intent on making me come.
“Ahhhh. Ummmm. Yessss. God, Yesss,” I manage to utter as he beats me into submission.
I erupt from pleasure moments later.
But I’m not even close to finishing.
I climb over and sit on his lap, facing
him. He keeps his eyes on the road in between licking and sucking my nipples.
I press myself against him as I feel his rock hard cock come alive as if a snake striking at a moving object.
I reach between our legs and unzip his pants to reveal his tidy whities. I pull down on his waistband to release his engorged member.
Funny how I never imagined what he looked like naked before. Stupid me.
It was full, hard, pink and inviting. I lick my fingers and stroke him, but not too much. I want him to come inside of me, not the car. I want his warm jizz to shoot up inside me like a pump-action rifle.
I swear Jake’s moans could be heard in the next county over.
I dry hump Jake like a schoolgirl. That’s all that I did my teen years. Dry humping gives me a flutter of an orgasm.
Reminds me of the time Marty and I went into the woods. I was 13, and he was 17. He wanted to go all the way, yet I was too scared. So instead he taught me how to dry-hump him until we both orgasmed.
He would try to slip his fingers up my dress and into my panties. I stopped him almost always. But there is no way I plan on pumping the breaks with Jake.
While I’m sitting on top of his member, I move my hips in a circular motion which brings us both close to the edge.
I then pull my panties to the side to expose my bush and clit.
I raise up and take his cock and rub it against my bush. God that feels good.
I wanted to prolong this as long as possible. But I don’t know if I have that type of discipline. I gently sit down a few inches and encapsulate his tip inside me.
I pulsate and vibrate from the top of my head to the tip of my toes before I slowly sit down further until Jake is totally inside me. He bites his lips and kisses my neck.
I shift my hips to the right ever so slightly. Jake squeals. I move my hips sharply to the left. Jake wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me in closer.
“What are you doing to me, Sidney?” Jake mumbles.
“Ahhh, auhhh,” Jake utters into my ear.
I can feel his balls up against me as I move up and down in slow motion. The sensation is explosive. I vocalize my pleasure as I tighten my clit for more friction.
“Ohhh. Ohhh.”
Jake is ready but holds out. I can feel it. I know him.
I bounce up and down faster and faster towards a climax that cannot be contained.
Jake shoots inside me as I squirm from my intense orgasm. The warming sensation coats the inside of me.
Did we just do this, while driving? Seriously?
Jake playfully bites my shoulder and kisses me passionately while he zips himself up.
I climb off of him and back into the passenger seat. I grab my sweats and bra and get dressed.
“Wait,” Jake commands.
I hold my bra in my hand. Jake stares… just stares at me for a moment before he says, “Okay.”
I put my bra back on, my sweats and
shirt.
We drive onto campus and Jake pulls into an underground parking lot. I expect us to park near the elevator. But instead, he finds a spot at the end of a very lonely row. It’s dark and silent.
Jake turns the ignition off. He turns to me and orders me to remove my sweatpants. I do as I am told.
“Now your panties, Sidney.” Again, I follow his instructions to the letter.
Jake slides my legs apart with both hands; so far apart he can see the inside of me.
Jake squeezes my inner thighs before he leans down and nibbles the inside of my thigh, towards my clit.
He surveys my insides with both his eyes and fingers before he speaks. I await his tongue.
“Welcome to my world,” Jake announces. “Game?”
“Yes,” I mouthed.
# THE END #
Want to read Book #2? CLICK HERE to download right now.
HOLIDAY ROMANCE
Interested in a sweet, cozy, Holiday Romance?
Ever heard of a fashion blogger without much fashion sense? That's quirky, Lola. At 22, you can always find her donning hipster glasses and colorful knee-high socks. What are her purses of choice? Circa 1940. She wears patterned feminine dresses and Birkenstock sandals. Yes, she knows
they're ugly, but any Oregonian worth a grain of salt has several pair.
And with the holidays approaching, Lola is poised to make a killing on Black Friday. You could say that Black Friday is the most important day in her life. More important than her birthday or Christmas.
But this year, her boyfriend Austin is determined to have a proper holiday. Months in advance, he planned a romantic, no cell phone, no wi-fi couples getaway at the Cooper Spur ski
resort, which happens to fall on Black Friday weekend.
However, things don't go as planned, in fact, they blow up in Lola's face. She is on the brink of losing the love of her life and missing the biggest shopping day of the year.
What is a girl to do?
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Darlene Jacobs is an emerging author of romance books with breezy erotica elements. Between reading, riding horses and learning about fine wines, she creates characters who long for a bit of romance with a bit of naughty thrown in for good measure.
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