Sucker Punched (6 page)

“I’d live off your pussy if I could. I’d eat it every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” His mouth melds to mine in a frenzied kiss.

I can taste myself on his tongue, his lips. It’s erotic as fuck—like a burst of cotton candy ice cream after a lifetime of nothing but bland vanilla—and I can’t get enough.

He shrugs off his flannel shirt, careful not to break the kiss as he sets it next to me on the countertop. “You taste so fucking good,” he says against my mouth. 

Leaning back, he pulls his white undershirt over his head and my jaw goes slack at the sight of his body. 

How is this real? 

You could legit wash clothes on those rock-hard abs. I force my mouth closed so I can swallow some of this excess saliva, because I’m in serious danger of drooling all over him right now.

I’ve
never
been this turned on before. It’s so acute it borders on painful, and if I were wearing panties right now, they’d be drenched.

I vaguely notice him discard his shirt on the counter beside me. I’m more focused on worshipping his abs with my fingers, caressing every curve and valley until I reach his belt buckle.

I’m anxious to get it off and make him feel even a fraction of what he just gave me. 

I finish undoing his belt and pop the button on his jeans. The impressive outline of his hard-on has me feeling like a kid on their birthday, all giddy with anticipation as I unwrap the biggest present. Pulling down his zipper, I get my first glimpse of his black boxer briefs and a sneak peek at the behemoth that’s hiding underneath. 

Oh my god, he’s
huge
. Even bigger than I thought.

My wide eyes are glued to the fabric stretched over his thick tip. I have half a mind to ask him if he’s smuggling salami in his underwear.

I stroke him through his boxers, making him groan, then pull the waistband down and spring him free. His cock feels warm and heavy in my hands as I play with him.

His eyes briefly close as he grips my thighs. “Where’s your phone?”

Oh. I set it down after I came and forgot all about it until now. 

I dig it out from under his clothes and hand it to him. He presses record as his other hand grips the base of his shaft, running it through my folds. 

His skin feels almost hot against mine as he teases me, sliding the thick tip along my pussy, parting my lips. He feels so fucking good. Maybe it’s the alcohol—or hell, maybe it’s just him—but I’d give anything to feel him push that bare, fat cock inside me. 

Fishing a condom out of his pocket, he tears it open with his teeth and hands me the phone. I aim the camera at his cock as he rolls it down his length. With one hand on my thigh and one guiding him, he sinks into me slowly. 

We both groan as he fills me to the hilt.

“Christ almighty, you’re fuckin’ tight.”

I shake my head and hand the phone back to him. “You’re just fucking huge.”

He gives me a cocky grin and starts to move. I gasp as he surges within me, hitting spots that no man or toy has ever hit before. He grips my thighs, pumping into me steadily. 

“How’s this?” he asks. “Too hard? Too slow?”

“It’s perfect.” My eyes flutter closed. It won’t take long, not with the way every thrust is stroking my walls, hitting all my nerves. 

I lean back until my shoulders touch the mirror behind me, watching him fuck me. His brows are drawn tight as he films his cock sliding in and out of me, the veins in his forearms bulging from how hard he’s gripping my hip. The walls are covered with mirrors, and I watch each reflection. In the mirror behind him, I see the muscles of his ass clench and unclench as he fucks me. The sight, coupled with the way the ring of the condom keeps rubbing my clit, and I feel myself about to come undone.

Popping himself out, I stifle a groan as he motions for me to stand up. His chest is rising a little quicker and a few drops of sweat dot his chest. I have the overwhelming urge to lick them off as he says, “Turn around. I want to fuck you from behind.”

I’m not entirely confident in my legs’ ability to keep me upright, but I stand and turn, facing the mirror behind the sink. He spreads my legs and presses on my back, showing me how far I should bend down.

My face grows hot when I realize how much of my ass is on display. He can probably see
everything
back there. . .

Okay, so doggy-style is something that should be done in the dark. Lesson learned.

He slides his cock along me, making sure to spend extra time rubbing it against my clit. I’m back to being achy and needy. I don’t even care that he’s got a clear shot of my asshole right now. I just need him to fuck me already.

“Please,” I murmur between panting breaths.

“You want me to fuck you?” His tone is unmistakably cocky and irritatingly sexy. He knows damn well what he’s doing, and I both love and hate him for it.

I nod, trying to push back and impale myself on him.

I hear a low chuckle from him before he obliges and pushes into me. He moans as I gasp, still not used to being stretched this wide.

He pumps slowly at first, reaching around to play with my clit. My breath hitches at how
deep
he can get this way, and I bury my face in his clothes lying on the counter.

I love that they smell like his cologne.

My heavy breathing fills the room, soon accompanied by the sound of our skin slapping together. His hand leaves my clit to grip my hip, and as his pace increases, I start mumbling nonsensical things.

One of them may even be that I love his cock.

I’m definitely thinking it, but I’m not sure if I actually say it or not. The only thing I’m sure I
am
saying is “Just like that. Don’t stop, don’t stop. Oh,
fuck
.”

I’m holding onto the countertop for dear life as he pounds into me. I’m probably going to have bruises with the way my knees are banging into the cabinet.

Just as soon as the thought leaves my mind, the most amazing feeling in the world overtakes me. It starts in my core and fans its way out, tightening every muscle to the point that I think they might never relax. I cry out so loud it’s actually more of a scream, which surprises the hell out of me because it’s totally involuntary. For the life of me, I can’t stop.

I’ve never come so hard in my life.

The edges of my vision waver. My ears ring. I even go cross-eyed for a few seconds. I ride it out for as long as I can, savoring every blissful second, because I know without a doubt it’ll never be this good with anyone else.

Blake manages a few more thrusts before abruptly pulling out. I’m wondering what he’s doing back there, but my motor skills seem to be nonexistent right now. It’s not until I hear him groan and feel warm strands paint my ass that I realize what’s happening.

My pussy spasms. Again.

Why is him coming on me so fucking hot?

He sets my phone next to me and kisses the center of my back between ragged breaths. “Goddamn, Duchess. I think I want to keep you.”

I’m about to tell him I’m more than fucking okay with that when a loud banging on the door rips us out of our post-orgasmic high. “You two about fuckin’ done? I’m about to piss myself out here.”

We both straighten at the same time. My legs feel wobbly as panic spikes.

Oh my god, how many people heard us? Shit, what if there’s a line to use the bathroom now?

Blake scowls at the door. “Then fuckin’ piss yourself, asshole.”

I grab some tissue from the other side of the sink and turn my ass to the mirror, trying to clean myself up.

Blake chucks the condom in the trash. “Sorry ’bout that,” he says almost shyly. “No sex tape’s complete without a money shot.”

“It’s fine.” Pulling my dress down, I toss the tissue in the trash, trying to cover his condom the best I can. Things are suddenly awkward, and I feel my face getting hotter with every second. 

I can’t believe I just fucked a total stranger. What the hell was I thinking?

Jesus, what if Blake has some kind of STD or something?

The man pounds on the door again. “Hey, fuck you!”

How
am I going to walk out of this bathroom and face that guy?

I grab my purse and phone as Blake tucks himself back in his boxers and pulls up his jeans. Since he’s not indecent anymore, I unlock the door and swing it open, keeping my eyes down as I bolt past the angry man. 

I hear him arguing with Blake, but I don’t stop. Not even when Blake calls out my name.

Pacing the hallway outside the locker room, my nose wrinkles at the smell wafting out. It still smells like sweaty balls, even though it’s being used by the women’s chapter tonight.

Cheers erupt from the fight pit in the basement of the Dormandy Hotel, drifting through the maze of corridors to where I’m anxiously waiting. I’m trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Savannah should be out there right now, punching and kicking her way to victory, but she’s not. 

Her fight was cancelled minutes before she was supposed to step into the ring.

I should be happy she’s not out there rearranging her face. And I would be, if it weren’t for her trainer’s expression when he told me they found something on her pre-fight physical.

Marcus, an intimidating ex-fighter-turned-trainer, looked. . .worried. He said he wasn’t sure what “they found something” meant, since he’d never seen anything like it. That alone sent little alarm bells off in my mind, and while he left to find out more, I stayed behind and decided to worry myself to death with worst-case scenarios. 

Like what if they found out she has some kind of weird disease and they have no idea what it is? What if it’s contagious? What if it’s
airborne
?

Oh, dear god. This has “zombie apocalypse” written all over it.

I’m five seconds away from scouting for weapons and going all
Resident Evil
when Marcus rounds the corner.

“They’re in exam room three. C’mon.”

I follow him around the corner, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. “Do you know what they found?”

His lips thin into a harsh line. “I have an idea.”

We go down another hallway, past a janitor’s closet and some storage rooms. I’m about to ask him if he’d like to share with the rest of the class, since I have no friggin’ clue what could cause her to be pulled from the fight like that, when we turn another corner and I spot Blake at the end of the hallway.

“
Shit
.” Panicking, I dart behind Marcus. 

Amidst all the craziness of Savannah’s match being cancelled, I totally forgot he was here. I nearly had a stroke when I saw him in the locker room earlier, but that’s not even the worst part of the evening.

The absolute worst part is that Savannah had no idea why I was having a meltdown, so I was forced to spill the beans about our super sexy, super embarrassing one-night-stand. And I
might’ve
let it slip that I asked to see his penis. 

Not his dick, or his cock. His
penis
.

Social grace is clearly not my forte. Blake was probably just taking pity on me, Savannah’s awkward, sexually frustrated friend.

I cringe every time I think about how desperate I must’ve come off that night. It’s like I was starved for his attention. Just the thought humiliates me all over again, and I feel myself growing hot with shame.

It’s been two weeks and I’m still not ready to face him. Probably never will be.

I walk behind Marcus, carefully peering around him to watch Blake. He’s talking to some girl, and my stomach drops when I see him smiling at her.

I know that smile. I’ve been on the receiving end of that smile. It makes you do crazy, reckless, naked things. And while I hate that he’s giving her that smile, I hate it even more that I care.

Blake’s a player. I figured as much. But it still hurts to see him play the game with someone else.

Disappointment weasels its way into my chest, making the whole damn thing ache. I push it aside as best I can, because we’ve arrived at exam room three. 

Marcus knocks once and pushes open the door. 

Savannah’s sitting on the exam table and Declan’s standing next to her. They’re both holding a long roll of paper.

A printout of some kind, maybe?

Marcus eyes the paper, his jaw clenching. “I’m torn. I don’t know whether to knee you in the balls for ruining all our hard work, or congratulate you.”

Congratulate him? For what?

Declan laughs. “Sorry, man. It’s, uh, definitely a surprise.”

Marcus claps him on the back, then hugs Savannah. “Congrats, baby girl.”

Seriously, what the hell is going on?

Frowning, I step closer to get a better look at the paper. Savannah says something to Marcus, but it goes in one ear and out the other when I realize what she’s holding.

“Holy shit, you’re
pregnant
?” I snatch the sonogram picture out of Savannah’s hand and stare down at it in bewilderment.

All I see is a tiny bubble in a fuzzy sea of black, white, and gray. It looks more like a blip in the printer ink than a baby.