Lifting one of her hands, I wrap the fingers of her hand around the hook I had installed into the wall, before doing thesame with the other. And then I step away and let her hang there, suspended for me, like a fucking piece of art.
Her body is insane, made better by the proof of the past few days; small bruises on her hips, love bites over her tits and up the inside of her thighs.
“Open your legs,” I demand as I stand in front of her, my cock stirring. “How sore is your cunt?”
I drop to my knees and don’t wait for her to tell me. Never was going to though either. I place one of her feet on my shoulder, and she puts the other up herself before dropping her weight down and opening her legs as wide as they will go.
Her slit is pink, swollen but glistening with her arousal.
“This for me?” I look up at her before I take what is mine. My tongue circles through her folds, curls around her clit before I suck on it gently, her sweet slick coating my face already. I hum against her pussy, giving her a little warning before my tongue invades her pussy, deep as it can go. I fucking eat her out like I haven’t eaten in days.
She comes, thrashing on my face, her hands falling from the hooks to grip my head as she grinds against me harder and faster. And once she’s done, I hook my hands under her thighs and lift her up. Pushing her body up the wall so she doesn’t fall, dragging her hands back where they were before I slam my cock inside her, whispering in her ear, demanding she let me in.
“Come on, killer, let me in and you can milk your Alpha.” I kiss my way from her ear to her mouth, giving her a reminder how good her pussy tastes on my lips.
There’s a lingering heat haze in her eyes making them unfocused and the both of us take full advantage of the moment, my knot slamming inside her tight little cunt at the same time she snaps her legs around my waist and rides me hard.
Twisting us away from the wall, we fall over her heat soaked nest. Tristan’s arms and legs strangle around my body, her pussysqueezing my cock and knot so fucking tightly I see stars. When her mouth drops to the scar of her bite on my throat I drop straight into a rut.
The bathroom door closes, her pack sensing not to fucking step foot inside her nest. I will literally rip arms from bodies if we’re interrupted. Using my hand to unlock my knot from her pussy, I pull out ignoring her protests before I flip her face first into the cushions, my hands dropping onto her hips, my fingers pressing into the bruises already there before I slam back inside. Pulling out just as fast.
Once is not enough. And the way her cunt wraps around my cock like a silk vice, it’s such a rush like the best drug on earth. She’s an addiction I never want to recover from.
Being inside her feels fucking insane. And I show her over and over again how much I need her. Rutting into her pussy until it’s leaking my come, then ramming inside her asshole with the same vigour and the same result. Finally after another shower, I feed her my cock until she’s swallowed every drop.
She kills me with how perfect she is. Every fucking time she takes what I give her before she demands I take more.
Epilogue Three
MAVERICK
WEEKS LATER
Matty knocks on my door, letting me know I’m up within fifteen minutes, and I go back to finishing off the energy drink before sinking into the routine of breathing, trying to lock away their anticipation.
I never took into account having a pack as something I’d need to deal with before a fight. Their enthusiasm nearly outweighs mine and they’re not nervous or anxious. If anything, our bond is full of excitement.
None of them freak out when I cut them out of our connection and I only do it so I can focus, stay locked in the moment because I know I’m fucking ready. I don’t want to be one of those cocky fighters who thinks they’ve already won before stepping in the cage. I mean, it’s good to feel confident but in my mind it’s a sign of weakness if you can’t recognise every fighter has the same drive to win as you do.
Splashing water over my face, I do a final rundown in my head before I leave the dressing room with my water bottle in my hand. Just cause I’m sponsored by Throne Agency and TheFallen MC, I still prefer to keep everything simple. I don’t need a trainer to hold my water or wipe my face.
Bouncing on my feet as they clean off the mat after the last fight I lock out the noise of the announcer, and the scream of the crowd when my opponent and I are announced. Blocking out the energy of the crowd is near impossible considering the size of the event but at the end of the day, all that matters is what happens when I step into the ring because I’ve already won.
Cody Black is already doing laps of the cage, winding the crowd up and prancing around like a fucking pony. He’s on a winning streak. He is also one ugly motherfucker; his nose broke a few too many times and I’m planning on breaking his nose as well as his winning streak tonight.
We’re matched well—similar weight and height but completely opposite in almost everything else including fight styles. His career started years ago when he was on the wrestling team at school before one of those fancy scouts picked him up and he did a tour of training camps until he crashed out of the Olympic trials in spectacular fashion. I think it did him good though—failing that is—because now he’s become a formidable fighter chasing what he wants.
Blowing out a final exhale, checking my nails and tugging up my new fight shorts I drop a couple of squats, stretching my quads as the rules are read. We tap gloves, and the buzzer sounds.
He comes at me before I’ve taken a step, and I wait, letting him come closer, letting him drive the first round. When he lunges for my legs, I tuck jump out of the way, following through with a combo of elbow and shin strikes. The crowd goes wild in no time at all—helps that I connected hard enough to send him to his ass, but he jumps and races back in.
The first round passes, the second blurs fast too, but the rhythm of the fight, the speed we match and clash builds upmy energy rather than drains it. And it’s probably lucky I’ve been training hard on building up my core because Cody’s clearly been watching video or some shit. He comes at me hard, focusing on my side that was injured in my last fight.
It kind of pisses me off.
I should have fucking known she wouldn’t stay away. Tristan appears out of the crowd, standing at my corner with some smartass words of advice on her lips. But fuck, I love her for it.
I don’t know who let her dress in nothing but a matching pair of my fight shorts, my name emblazoned over her ass, a cut off Fallen T-shirt hanging off her shoulder. She doesn’t stop as she struts past, but I track where she’s going, and why.
