Isaac
ACouple of Years Later…
I feel the pang of pain in my face as my opponent’s fist connects with my jaw, snapping me back to reality. Shaking off the pain, I focus on the man in front of me. He shifts from side to side, looking at me, waiting for my next move. Sledge yells at me to focus on the fight. Knowing him, he’s betting big money on me winning, and I will.
I’m just not focused tonight. Not sure why, but all I can think of isher. My fist connects with my opponent’s abdomen, and my leg connects with his face. He blocks my second kick, and his fist connects with my chin. For a second, I’m stunned by the pain, but I quickly bounce back. This fight has gone on for too long, and I need to end it. Sledge once again yells for me to focus, cursing. I roll my neck before taking my opponent to the ground and locking my legs and arms around him, immobilizing him. If he wants out of this fight, he’ll need to tap out.
My grip tightens. I can feel the pulse throbbing in his neck, the sweat pooling between our pressed bodies. The crowd’s cheers are a muffled roar in my ears, the bright lights overhead turning us into the centerpiece of this grim spectacle. He begins to thrash, and that only makes me tighten my grip on him. At this point, the only way out is to tap out; there is no escaping the chokehold. I clench my jaw, pressing harder, and that’s when he snaps. Reluctantly, he taps my arm frantically, signaling surrender. The crowd erupts into a mix of cheers and boos, disappointment mingling with excitement in the thick, oppressive air of the underground. I uncoil myself, releasing my grip on his neck, freeing hisgasping breaths as I step away, victorious. The old referee, Chuck, holds my arms up, and the crowd roars as he announces my victory. With Alexa in tow, Sledge walks toward me.
“Good fucking job, had me worried for a minute,” my friend says as he cups the back of my head.
I shrug him off. “I had it under control,” I lie.
Alexa’s arms wrap around my waist, her blue eyes looking at me with desire and pride. “Good job, baby,” she says, pressing her head into my sweaty chest. We walk off the ring, and Sledge retreats to his section to collect money and probably fuck one of his groupies. He never seems to stick around whenever Blondie is around, which isn’t always. Alexa and I head toward the locker room.
When we get inside, Alexa locks the door behind us. My cock twitches with anticipation. Nothing turns Alexa on more than the sight of me bloody and sweaty. Her blonde ponytail sways as she saunters over to me, her jean dress hugging every curve of her body. Alexa is gorgeous, but the only problem is that she’s nother. No matter how much I try to will it, I just can’t love Alexa. But to be fair, it’s not her problem. It’s me. I just can’t fall in love with anyone who isn’ther. No matter how much time passes by. My heart remains adamant on loving someone it has no business loving. I remove the gloves from my hands, tossing them to the ground, and reach down into my shorts, pulling out my cock. There are only two things that help quiet that ache—a good fight and a good fuck. It’s a temporary bandage to seal the gaping wound inside my chest. Even at the ripe age of 28, I still live in the past, in the ghost of all of the things I could never have.
I stare at the gorgeous blonde in front of me, who has given me time of her life, and even as Alexa bites her plump lower lip as she runs her hand down my length, her fingers wrapping around the base of my cock. I feel nothing. Nothing that isn’t lust. It’s not a real need, just an urge, something that can’t even touch this hunger inside me.
“You are so fucking hot, Iz,” she purrs as she kneels, her blue eyes on me. My hand wraps around her ponytail and guides her towards my cock to silence the guilt.
Alexa’s warm tongue licks the head of my cock, causing it to jerk. I groan as her wet mouth swallows my cock, her tongue twirling on the head, then she sucks her cheeks in. Her mouth tightens around my cock, a hiss escaping my mouth as I push her head and hold her in place, going deeper. So deep that I can feel her throat constrict around me when I push too far. My hips move slowly at first, but my speed increases as her hand cups my balls. Saliva coats my cock, dripping down her chin and my shaft.
Alexa knows what she’s doing, her fingers expertly dancing over my skin, her gaze never leaving mine. She’s tried so hard to fuck her way into my heart. Nothing works, unfortunately. Trust me, I’ve tried just as hard. I bite back a groan as her mouth continues its sweet torment. My control snaps when she gives a particular swirl of her tongue at the base, a teasing smile evident in her blue eyes. I jerk my hips, thrusting deeper into her mouth, causing her to gag and tighten her grip on my thighs. Closing my eyes, I picture stormy eyes instead of ocean blues and fuck her mouth until my cum flows down her throat. She swallows without hesitation, before she pulls back and licks my dick clean of my cum and her saliva.
“Let’s get going,” I mutter, noticing the disappointment that flashes across her face. I don’t know what she expects from me. I don’t do relationships. I don’t make love. I just fuck. I’ve made my stance clear. Still, I know she hopes deep down it will change, but she’s just wasting her time. She sighs as she stands, leaning into the locker. Her phone rings, and she answers it.
“Ronnie,” she says. My blood turns to ice at the sound of her name. I hear Alexa filling Ronnie in, and the two talk about other random shit while I finish getting ready to leave. I try not to listen too much to their conversation, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. When it comes to Veronica Vargas, I have no restraints. Never have, and at this point, never will. Not that I care to.
I listen to Alexa make plans with her as we walk out of the locker room, past the crowd, and into the parking lot. We walk toward my black Camaro. Alexa opens the door and slips inside. I follow suit, sliding into the driver’s seat and revving up the engine, the deep growl rising in my chest. Alexa ends her call and tosses her phone into the cup holder. She turns to me, a cheeky smile plastered on her face.
“Your place or mine?” I shrug. It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t get any sleep anyway.
“Yours,” I decide, not wanting her to invade my space tonight. I pull out of the parking lot and onto the near-deserted streets. It’s late as fuck. The busy streets are quiet. Street lamps flash by in a blur as I speed through the city, their light reflecting off Alexa’s skin, painting her in different hues of orange and yellow. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable; it never is. I appreciate them. My mind drifts to Ronnie, it always does. My love for her makes me sick, and I doubt I will ever recover.
A pang of self-loathing worms its way through my thoughts, like a viper, venomous and vile. I have Alexa, who is beautiful, pliant, and willing to cater to my basest desires, no questions asked. And still, I pine for Veronica. But that’s been my life, my curse, since I was eight years old. I’ve belonged to her ever since she shared her popsicle with me that day. But life is unfair, and our fate is cruel. The woman I love is the same woman I can never have.
The drive to Alexa’s place is a blur of thought and memory. She doesn’t attempt small talk, for which I’m grateful. Her silent understanding is one of the reasons I chose her, one of the reasons I keep choosing her. In some strange, twisted way, she gets me. It’s not like she knows that my heart belongs to Veronica; she just knows it will never be hers.
The city lights reflect against the glass, casting dancing shadows across Alexa’s face. I glance at her from the corner of my eye, my heart wrenching at the sight of her oblivious joy. I know Alexa is drawn to me; she has been since we were teens. Straight-A student, cheerleader, everyone’s favorite, and Veronica’s best friend. And despite the years of our on-and-off situationship, she has never managed toset me free from my prison. No matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I fuck her, no matter how many times I kiss her or hold her through the night, I’ve never once managed to shake Veronica’s presence from my heart. It’s as if she’s bound herself within me, a ghost that refuses to be exorcized.
Parking the car in front of Alexa’s high-rise, I turn off the engine, and the silence of the night creeps in. The only sound is our breathing. Alexa is the first one out of the car, and I follow suit. Walking behind her into the elevator, she asks, “You staying the night?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
She offers me a small, sad smile as we step out of the elevator, walk down the hall, and into her apartment. I lock the door behind us while Alexa walks over to her kitchen, slipping out of her heels, her hips swaying from side to side. I follow her, watching her as she cracks open two beers.
“Good fight tonight,” she says, breaking the silence. Alexa jumps onto her marble kitchen island and sits on it. I take hold of her foot, and my thumb draws lazy circles.
“Think so?”
She bites her lip and slowly dips her chin. “Yes, but why the hesitation in the beginning?” I bring her foot to my lips and gently place a kiss on her ankle. “Got lost in thought for a second, but I had it under control, did I not?”
She moans as my tongue connects with her ankle and slides upward.
She giggles, a sound that is borderline melodic. “Under control… I wouldn’t say it like that.” She playfully kicks at me with her foot, already out of my grip. “Your opponent managed to land three direct hits before you started fighting back,” she says as she brings the beer to her lips and takes a sip.
“What’s the fun in fighting if they can’t hit me?” My fingers now travel between her legs, sliding the lace fabric to the side. Her breath hitches as she sets the beer down with a thud. “You’re such a masochist,” she manages to say, a teasing glint in her eyes. I chuckle, my hands continuing their ministrations.
