Senn (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 5) (15 page)

“A woman…oh, fuck, it’s Wednesday,” he mutters. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you that, um, Nikki cleans my house twice a week.”

“She implied that her biweekly responsibilities consist of much more than just
cleaning
for you.” 

“Oh, um, well,” he stutters instead of denying it, making me want to pitch my phone through his big screen television.

“Senn?” I ask. “Have you been fucking her?”

“Shit. When I get back, I promise I’ll explain–”

“No! I want your explanation right now!”

“So, let me start by saying that I haven’t fucked her since…”

“Senn!” I yell when he pauses for too long.

“I’m trying to think to give you the exact time, but it’s not like I wrote them down or shit. Maybe guys do need a fuck diary—”

“How many times since the beach?” I interrupt him to ask.

“Just like, um, twice?” he says, sounding uncertain. “Maybe only once, but I don’t want to undersell it, so it could’ve possibly been twice at the most.”

Tears tumble down both my cheeks at his admission.

“Abby? Are you still there? I’m so fucking sorry, but I’m trying my best to be completely honest with you. It was right after the beach, after I found out about Luke and you told me that you didn’t want me in the baby’s life. And it was definitely before the night I stayed with you and him. After that, there have been zero times. I swear.”

Lowering the phone from my ear, I end the call without another word. She wouldn’t have come over dressed like a slut if she wasn’t expecting him to fuck her today. I really need to get out of here, especially with her prancing around looking all perfect

Senn

She hung up on me.

I stare down at my phone in disbelief. How did things go this shitty in a matter of seconds?

After trying to call Abby back three times in a row that go to voicemail, I know she’s obviously pissed at me and it wasn’t a dropped call.

Driving back to the house, I try calling Nikki.

“Hi, hon,” she answers sweetly.

“You’re fired.”

“Wh-what?” she asks.

“Get out of my house now and don’t ever come back.” I barely refrain from cussing her out, but this isn’t her fault, it’s mine. I fucked her. I let her keep coming over. I didn’t tell Abby about her. I’m so goddamned screwed. And Abby really doesn’t need this shit stressing her out right now, the same day she just got released from the hospital.

When I pull up in my driveway, I’m relieved that Nikki’s car is gone. But walking inside, my heart sinks. Abby’s gone, too. It’s worse than I thought. She’s not just pissed at me, but she’s probably hurt and that makes me feel like such an asshole

I call the first person I would expect her to call, mostly just to get back at me.

“Hello?” Luke answers.

“Abby with you?” I ask, straight to the point.

“Ah, no. She’s home? When did you guys get back?”

“Just a few hours ago, but she’s upset with me, and now I don’t know where she is.”

“Sorry, man. I haven’t heard from her.”

That makes me feel a little better that she didn’t go off with him just to hurt me and make me jealous.

“Any idea where she might be?”

“Uh, maybe with Bree or her sister?” he offers.

“I’ll check her office, and then her parents’ house if she’s not there.” I doubt she’s at her parents’ house since they’ve been ignoring her. Which is really fucked up because she’s sick and all; but from what Abby’s said, her family is anything but normal. Sort of like mine only they’re rich instead of poor. I guess money doesn’t always buy happiness.

“If I hear from her, I’ll let you know,” Luke tells me. I thank him before hanging up and heading back outside to my truck.

I have to do an Internet search to get an address for
Happily Ever After
since I’ve never been there before
.
Fifteen minutes later, I pull up in front of the small suite in the center of a busy shopping mall. The door dings when I walk through it. Inside there are a few small tables and chairs with huge books open on top of them. There’s lots of bright, colorful girly shit around the store, like flowers and lace that contradict the cynical Abby I’ve come to know. I can’t help but wonder if Linc made her that way, or even worse, if it’s my fault she’s no longer a hopeless romantic. 

“Hi, can I help…oh.” A young college-aged brunette steps out from a back office, her eyes wide. “You’re Senn, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Bree. How’s Abby?” she asks, fidgeting with the buttons on her black suit jacket.

“She’s…she’s had a rough couple of days. I’m actually looking for her. Has she been by?”

“Ah, no. The last I heard from her, she was checking out of the hospital, so I don’t really expect to see her around here anytime soon.”

“Well, thanks.”

“Everything okay?” she asks as I reach for the door.

“No, not really. But if you see or hear from Abby, please tell her to call me.”

“Will do,” she says with a smile.

Sitting back down in my truck, I know the next place I have to try, and I’m dreading it. Abby’s parents are assholes to her, so I’m expecting the same treatment but about a hundred times worse. Either way, I’ll do whatever it takes to find her and talk to her. To tell her I haven’t been with anyone else since we started seeing each other.

Looking up her parents’ address online, I following the GPS instructions on my phone until I’m driving through one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city, hell, maybe even the state. Houses through here are on the edge of a private golf course and probably start at no less than a million each. It’s the complete opposite of the rundown trailer park I grew up in out in the middle of nowhere.

I almost chicken out when I pull up in the circular driveway of the massive stone mansion. The perfectly manicured lawn looks like each bush and blade of grass was watered and hand trimmed by an army of men with tiny scissors.

Manning up, I force myself to climb out of my big, yellow truck that looks as out of place as a pony in the Kentucky Derby, and walk up between the columns to ring the doorbell.

I was expecting a butler in a black suit and white gloves to answer. Instead, I’m greeted by a lanky man in an ugly plaid golf getup with a thinning brown hairline. Dark chocolate eyes that remind me of Abby’s glare back at me.

“Hi, um, is Abby here by chance?” I ask.

“Oh, you mean my dying daughter that you carelessly knocked up?”

“Ah, yes. That daughter,” I reply, straightening my spine and refusing to let him see me squirm under his harsh sarcasm. “The one you and your wife turned your back on like she’s already dead, underestimating her determination.”

He narrows his eyes at me for several silent seconds. “Maybe so,” he finally concedes. “My daughters are both stubborn as mules, just like their mother.”

“I’m pretty sure our daughter will be, too.”

“Yes, another female.” He sighs heavily. “The Merchant line may never see another male heir.” His eyes roll in what I’m pretty sure is mock exasperation since the corners of his lips inch up a tad.

“I am nothing if not diligent, and wouldn’t give up until Abby has a boy.” 

“Watch it,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “The least you can do is make an honest woman out of her. What is it with you Neanderthal fighters who can’t follow a simple tradition? But I guess your name says it all, doesn’t it?”

What the fuck? He wants me to marry her?

“I’m sorry,” I say, still bewildered by the suggestion. “I’m not sure that’s what Abby wants. I mean, she’s never mentioned it…”

“Are you a fool, boy?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning so hard it must hurt his face. “Abby’s wanted a big, fancy church wedding since she could walk. Why do you think she started her own business as a wedding planner?”

“Oh,” I reply, still speechless. I thought Abby turned Linc down when he asked her to marry him… “That’s…I didn’t know…”

“Let’s hope my granddaughter has her mother’s intelligence and not yours.”

“So, is Abby here or not?” I ask again.

“She is,” he huffs. “Up the stairs, third room on the left. If you upset her further, I’ll bash your giant skull in with my golf clubs. Don’t make me do that. It’s a brand new set.”

“Yes, sir,” I respond, stepping around him to go find Abby. The house looks even bigger inside, with more columns, cathedral ceilings, statues and all sorts of other fancy, breakable shit. I take the spiral staircase two steps at a time and look for the third room. The door’s open wide, so I stick my head inside.

Abby shoots straight up, looking tiny in the big, cherry wood, sleigh bed. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” I tell her. Moving closer, I slip off my shoes and start to climb up on the bed.

“No! I don’t want to hear your bullshit! Get out of my bed!” she exclaims, jerking away. Now I notice how red her eyes are, like she’s been crying, and I hate myself for being the one who hurt her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her when I’m next to her, sitting back on my knees. “Well, not unless your dad comes after me with his golf clubs. But even then I’ll keep coming back until you talk to me.”

“My dad knows you’re here?” she asks, relaxing a little instead of moving farther away.

“Yeah, he answered the door.”

“Well, I want you to leave.”

“Don’t do this, Abby. You don’t need to be upset. It’s not good for the baby.” I pull out the one thing I know she’ll calm down for.

“It’s your fault for being a gigantic dickwhore!” she exclaims.

If she’s calling me names, then there’s still hope that this is fixable.

“I fired Nikki, okay? I should’ve realized she would cause problems, and I’m sorry that I was so stupid. She was nothing but a slut, always trying to get into my pants. The last few weeks I’ve made sure to stay at the gym when I knew she was coming over, so that she couldn’t even flirt with me. I don’t give a shit about her, and I haven’t touched her since before I went with you to the doctor’s office. Remember?” I ask her. “That was when you were spending probably every night with Luke, and I’m talking one or two times at most with her. You practically threw me out of your life, or else I wouldn’t have been with her after the night at the beach.”

Abby keeps staring down at her hands on her lap, making me want to beg her to look at me. To forgive me. To come back home with me.

“She was wearing a slutty outfit,” she says with a sniffle, making me wince.

“I really hate that you had to see that shit,” I tell her.

“She’s prettier than me, and definitely not pregnant.” Hearing her say something so ridiculous, well, now I know what this is about. Her insecurities.

Reaching for the top of the covers, Abby doesn’t stop me when I peel them back, revealing her silk, lavender colored nightie with thin spaghetti straps that hits just above her knees. I rub my palm over the smooth material covering her belly, following the slope to her pelvis. My cock instantly lengthens in my jeans from that simple touch, so I grab Abby’s hand and place it on my hardening shaft to show her. 

“There’s no one sexier than you, especially you pregnant,” I tell her honestly.

Her eyes dart over to the bedroom door before she squeezes my cock through my jeans. “You’re so full of shit,” she tells me. “But you sell it pretty well.”

“I’m telling you the honest to God truth, mama bear,” I say, leaning down to brush my lips along the side of her neck. She gasps and shivers, and I know I’ve almost got her. Just a little bit more. I move my mouth down her throat and across her shoulder, easing one of the nightie straps to the side to kiss her collarbone.

“Senn,” she warns, but keeps working her hand on my cock. I know I’m getting to her when she starts squirming, inching her shoulders up to her ears.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” is her breathless response.

“Come home with me, so I can take care of you,” I tell her with my lips teasing the shell of her ear and my hand inching up her thigh. “I know you’re tired, but I bet you could handle my tongue in your pussy, couldn’t you? I want you to sit on my face, so I can lick you until your legs shake and you come screaming my name.” 

“Yes,” she says with a shiver rocking through her body. I bet her panties would be wet if she was wearing any. My fingers inch up until a fingertip eases through her damp folds.

“So wet for me. It’s been too long, hasn’t it, mama bear?” I ask, and she moans while scooting lower in the bed to get more contact with my fingers. She’s desperate, so horny after going three days without. It’s evil of me to tease her this way.

“Please,” she whispers. “I want you inside me.”

Pressing my thumb to her clit, I penetrate her with two fingers; and then she does all the work, humping my hand until she gets herself off. When I feel her insides start to clinch, I cover her mouth to conceal her moans through her release. Once she relaxes, I pull my fingers out of her and lick her juices off them.

“Mmm,” she moans, rolling to her side to face me. Her eyelids are heavy and her cheeks are red from the flush of arousal. “I need your mouth…and your cock,” she says.

“Not gonna happen here,” I tell her.

“Then take me home.”

“About time,” I mutter, unable to prevent my grin of triumph. I did the impossible. I stepped into the lion’s den, and not only did I survive, but I won the battle. “Did you bring anything with you?”

“Just my phone,” she says, nodding to the bedside table. I grab it and stuff it in my pocket before I sweep Abby up, cradling her in my arms. “I love this nightie by the way,” I tell her on the way down the hall. “I can’t wait to take it off of you with my teeth.”

A throat clearing behind us has my feet pausing when I look over my shoulder. A middle-aged woman with Abby’s long chestnut hair gives me the once over with her hands on her hips. Her face says everything that needs to be said – She doesn’t think I’m good enough for Abby.

“Mrs. Merchant?” I ask.

“Yes,” she scoffs with a wrinkled nose like she smells shit. If she thinks I would be intimidated by her after meeting Mr. Merchant, she’s delusional.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Senn Duncan, Abby’s boyfriend, future husband, and father of her children.”

“Children!” she exclaims at the same time Abby says, “Husband?”

“I would shake your hand, but as you can see, my hands are full,” I say, leaving out the fact that my fingers were just in Abby’s pussy. Although on second thought…that would be hilarious…

“Senn,” Abby warns, putting a finger to my lips to shush me, like she knows what I’m thinking.