“Watch, Sydney. Don’t assume morality. Don’t fight who you are. Simply watch.”
I do.
“Violence is never pretty,” Alec tells me. In the ring, the fighters towel off their sweat, gulping down water before pouring some over their faces and chests. “But it can be beautiful.”
When the bell rings again, I move a little closer.
I wouldn’t call it beautiful, no. But it’s powerful to watch them. They move so quickly, muscles flexing and rolling as they circle one another.
I lick my lips. When I bring my champagne glass up to drink, I realize I’ve somehow already finished it. Alec takes it gently from my hand and leaves to get me another.
The third round is the most brutal. Maybe they were holding back, drawing the match out for the crowd.
But the moment the bell sounds, they come together in a flurry of blows. It’s raw and violent, it’s chaos of movement and skill, and I watch the entire thing with my heart in my throat, leaning over the railing to get closer to the action.
I don’t notice Alec’s hand trailing up my leg under my dress until he reaches my hip, fingers slowly sliding over the bone and down to press against me through the fabric of my panties.
I gasp, hips rolling against his touch reflexively.
“What do you think, Red?” Alec asks, voice a dark and dangerous purr against my neck. He presses a soft kiss to my shoulder, his fingers dipping under the seam of my underwear to touch me. “Are you enjoying this?”
I’m wet, I realize. His finger slides through it, pausing to circle my clit as I watch the fight below.
Breathlessly, I nod.
“I think you’ll like the next fight even more,” he teases. In the ring, a final punch is thrown, hard enough it throws the other man back into the ropes, where he sinks down to his knees.
The bell rings, the match ended.
With a growl, Alec spins me around, pressing me back against the guard rail and gripping my hair tightly, holding me in place to kiss me. I groan into him, reaching up to pull him closer.
Down in the arena, the crowd is cheering loudly as the announcer calls the winner. There will be a break between fights, he broadcasts, urging the audience to hurry back to their seats for a show they won’t want to miss.
But I’m too lost in Alec’s touch and kiss to notice any of it.
When he finally pulls away from me, his eyes are so dark and unhinged it’s almost frightening.
“On your knees, darling,” he says, stepping back from me, his hand going to his pants.
I sink down into the plush carpet, obedient, as Alec makes swift work of his belt, reaching into his pants to pull his hard cock out and stroke it for me.
His hand threads into my hair, pulling me close as I stare up at him.
“Open wide,” he says.
I groan, opening my mouth and taking him between my lips. It’s a stretch getting my mouth around him, my hands coming up to grip his thighs, but I manage.
The first time I’d had Ashton in my mouth, he’d taken full control, holding me in place and fucking me. Alec’s control is different, more subtle. Hands buried in my hair, he directs me forward, pushing me onto his cock until it hits the back of my throat. He shudders, thigh muscles twitching under my hands, and then he’s pulling me back, sliding out of my mouth until my lips are just over his tip, then doing it all again.
I hold his gaze the entire time.
He moves me slowly, gliding himself deeper, and then back out. I move my tongue as he directs me, rubbing against the base of him, delighting in the way his muscles twitch when I do, the way his eyes flutter closed.
I barely register the sounds of the crowd, the voice of the announcer as he welcomes the next fighters—the headliners—but Alec does. His eyes flick to the window, and he stops, pulling my mouth away.
“Come on, darling. You don’t want to miss this.”
He takes my hands in his and lifts me, turning me effortlessly until I’m facing the ring again. This time, when he positions himself behind me, placing my hands on the guard rail and bending me forward at the waist, there’s no question as to what he’s planning.
