Clutch ‘The Hammer’ Withers.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
***
And that was how my career in the Ultimate Fighting League started.
Or, in other words The Motherfucking UFL.
And after ten years in the business, I had finally made something of myself.
Now, my name is a household brand.
Now, I have more women than I know what to do with vying for any semblance of my attention.
And now... if I had just done the right thing and kept my dick in my pants, I wouldn’t be in this position.
And I damn sure wouldn’t be staring at the woman whom I had stupidly given in to after a night of one of my most brutal fights.
I stared at her.
“Say something.” She snapped.
I licked my bottom lip, “You poked holes in the condom. Didn’t you?”
She gasped, “Bronson!”
I didn’t respond.
I just stared at her.
In that shrill tone of hers I fucking hated, she snapped, “Honestly, is this what you really think of me?”
I didn’t reply because it obviously was.
And then... well, her hand came up and slapped me.
Her eyes widened when my head didn’t snap to the side.
The corner of my lips tipped up in a smirk, “What you have failed to realize is that I haven’t given you the power to hurt me. And newsflash, you’ll never have it.”
And that was how it started to be between the woman who hadmastermindedgiving birth to my kids.
And yes... I know... had I not stuck my dick in her, I wouldn’t have them.
And yet again... she used them at every turn to try to bring me to my knees.
The keyword in that wastry.
Just like my mother tried to have it her way or no way at all.
And that was further proven true when I took my eighteen-month-old son to meet them.
See, they had apparently been trying to find me to make things right with how they had treated me on that fateful day all those years ago.
But what they didn’t know was that I had a son.
And my mother’s words? Well, she ensured that I would never have anything to do with them ever again.
