“Baby, I can’t hold back,” I warn, and he slides his mouth off my cock to grin at me.
“Then don’t.” He gets back to work, and I give in, slamming into his hot mouth. The locker behind me rattles as I use him. His hand comes up, wrapping around the base of me and squeezing as he sucks me down, and with a yell, my release roars through me. He swallows it before pulling back, letting it drip over his hand and mouth as I shake and ride out the pleasure.
When I can’t possibly come any more, I collapse back, and he releases me, sitting on his heels with a knowing, swollen smile.
Licking his raw lips, he sucks his fingers clean as I pant. “You’ve had your reward, now go shower so we can celebrate with your family.”
I perk up. “You’re coming?”
“You think I came all this way just for your cum? I’m starving.” He winks as he smacks my hip and climbs to his feet. “Go, before your dad comes in here and tells me off.”
Grinning, I kiss him swiftly. “Want to help me shower?” I wiggle my eyebrows, even as he laughs and hits me again. “Had to try.”
“Go!” He shoves me away, but he’s smiling.
He actually came.
That means something, right?
I worry for Zia. I can’t imagine this is his scene. I scan him hesitantly, but I should have known better. His smile is wider than I’ve ever seen it, flashing dimples that I have an insane urge to lick. He looks relaxed and totally calm, his arm stretched across the back of my rickety chair.Even in his designer clothes and diamonds, he seems to fit right in at Mama’s Kitchen. It’s tradition. My dad came here after his first win, and now we all do.
The outside area bustles with people and music, the tables old and mismatched. The air is slightly cool, and the food is incredible, but it’s in the rougher side of town. It’s not exactly fine dining, and the guests tonight are all boxers and coaches, talking rambunctiously and stuffing beer and burgers down as quickly as they can.
I lower my voice and lean closer to Zia. “We can go if you want. You probably have business to deal with, or we can go somewhere without as many people.”
“Go? Why would we go?” he asks with a frown. “I haven’t even finished my food yet.”
I wince. “I can buy you some better food?—”
“Better than this? I don’t think so,” he dismisses.
“Go? He isn’t going anywhere, and neither are you. We just got here,” my father snaps in annoyance from the head of the table. “We are here to celebrate your win, boy, so don’t run off just yet. Besides, Zia doesn’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all. I’m used to brutes with guns, so this is actually quite nice. Nikko, listen to your dad.” Zia chuckles, his eyes sparkling as he winks at me.
“He never does,” my father complains as he leans into Zia. “One time when he was a kid, I told him he had to wear pants to school, but he refused and took them off every day.”
Zia’s laughter fills the air, and I know I’m not the only one staring at him—that’s just how bright he shines. He’s oblivious as he replies to my father. “Tell me all his dirty, sordid secrets.”
“Don’t you dare.” I sip my beer to wet my dry throat, my free hand dropping to his thigh without thought. I see a guy at another table eyeing Zia like he’s his next course, not that he seems to notice or care, but my fingers still curl into his leg possessively.
My eyes narrow on the guy, who gives me a passing look before he returns to leering at Zia, his expression hungry as he watches him chat with my father and friends, and my annoyance grows.
“He won’t stop fucking staring,” I mutter in annoyance, my grip tightening on my beer.
Everyone looks at me then follows my gaze to the man and his table, who are also now all staring.
“Stay calm,” Karl, one of our team mutters. “No fighting outside the ring, remember?”
I nod, but my anger won’t be placated. When a hand lands on my arm, my gaze goes to Zia. Seeing him so close causes my breath to woosh from my chest, and my anger swiftly morphs into desire as his scent wraps around me.
“They won’t stop staring at you,” I explain, jealousy lacing my tone as his eyebrow arches, demanding the truth.
“Of course they are. I’m beautiful,” he replies before he grabs my collar and pulls me closer, spilling beer all over my hand, but I can’t look away. Even my breath stops as he smirks at me in front of the entire table. “Got a problem with that?”
“No,” I answer roughly. Nothing else matters as long as he keeps looking at me. “I can fight, so they don’t stand a chance.”
“That’s my boy.” He places a kiss on my lips before letting me go and turning to my dad like nothing happened. “So the pants thing, does he still do that?”
