His hand came around and wrapped around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building so fast I could barely breathe.
“You're going to come for me, Daddy. Going to come on my cock while I fuck you. And then I'm going to fill you up so deep you'll feel it for days.”
His rhythm picked up, harder and faster, his cock hitting my prostate on every stroke. The pressure built at the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tight, my whole body coiling with the need to come.
“Troy, I'm close.” My voice was barely recognizable. “I'm so fucking close.”
“Then come.” His hand tightened on my cock, stroking faster. “Come for me, Daddy. Show me how good I make you feel.”
My orgasm hit like a freight train, pleasure slamming through me in waves that made my vision white out. I came hard over his hand and against the locker, my ass clenching around his cock, pulling him deeper.
Troy followed seconds later with a groan that echoed in the small space. I felt him pulse inside me, felt the heat of his come filling me up, marking me from the inside out.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, both of us trying to process what had just happened.
When Troy finally pulled out, I felt empty and satisfied at the same time. Felt his come start to leak out and reached back to push it back in, not ready to lose it yet.
“Fuck, that's hot.” Troy's voice was wrecked. “Keep it in there, Daddy. Keep me inside you while you fight.”
“That's the plan.” I straightened slowly, my legs shaky, and pulled my shorts back up. The feel of his come inside me was strange and perfect, a reminder of what we'd just done.
Troy tucked himself back in and zipped up, looking just as wrecked as I felt. “That was supposed to be good luck.”
“Pretty sure it was.” I grabbed a towel and cleaned off my hand, tried to make myself presentable again. “Now get out there before someone comes looking for you.”
“You sure you're good?” He stepped closer, concern bleeding through the satisfaction. “You can still fight after that?”
“I'm better than good.” I kissed him, tasting sweat and want and the certainty that I was walking into that ring with a piece of him inside me. “Now go. I'll see you after I win this thing.”
He left with one last look over his shoulder, hungry and proud and mine in ways that made my chest tight.
I stood there for another minute, feeling his come shift inside me when I moved, feeling the pleasant ache that came from being thoroughly fucked. My legs were steadier now, my mind clearer, my body humming with satisfaction that felt like power.
The walk to the ring was going to feel different tonight. Every step would remind me of Troy on his knees. Every movement would remind me of his cock inside me. Every breath would carry the memory of what we'd just done.
The lights were bright when I stepped through the curtain, hot and harsh, turning the arena into a coliseum of noise and bodies and energy that crashed over me in waves.
I didn't let myself look for Troy in the crowd or let myself think about anything except the cage ahead and the man waiting inside it.
The champion was already there and pacing, loose and dangerous. He was twenty-eight years old with a record thatspoke of dominance, fast hands, technical precision, the fighter who made older men look slow and predictable.
I climbed through the ropes. Mara stayed outside. The referee called us to the center for final instructions I barely heard.
We touched gloves. His eyes were cold and calculating, reading me the way I was reading him.
The bell rang.
He came out fast and tested me with a quick combination that I slipped. His footwork was clean with movements economical and no wasted energy.
I pressed forward and threw my jab. I felt it land on his guard. He countered with a low kick that buckled my lead leg slightly.
We circled and traded shots, feeling each other out.
Then he shifted levels and went for a takedown that I sprawled on. We grappled against the cage for thirty seconds before the referee separated us.
Round one went like that with fast exchanges and neither of us giving much. Both of us were working. By the time the bell rang, I was breathing hard and he looked fresh.
Not good.
