Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
As I drive, I usually think about techniques or rehearse specific scenarios in the fight. I might listen to a podcast about Jiujitsu or perhaps fight analysis. Soon, the camp will start, with eight weeks of Spartan focus. I can’t allow anything to interfere with that.
The closer I get to their farm—well, their land, since Brad stopped keeping chickens when he opened the hardware store—the bigger this pit in my gut becomes. I’ve heard fighters talk about feeling that before fights. Many of them can’t sleep. Not me. I sleep like a baby. I close my eyes and shut out the world like I did as a kid, somehow sleeping through all that nastiness next door.
I drive up the gravel path to the house on the slight hill. There’s too much privacy up here. Brad is currently visiting his dad. He booked the tickets before I knew I was taking this fight. Marquis wouldn’t hear anything about that changing things, though. Part of being a world-champion fighter is being humble enough to listen to my coach, even if he’s a borderline madman.
Oh, hell. She’s sitting on the porch in the late-afternoon sun. Just the shape of her as she stands and lifts her hand is enough to get me going. My dick starts hardening again, but I can’t let it. I have to focus. Breathe. Stay calm. I can’t give into my desire and claim those thick hips.
“Hey, Rust,” she says when I step from the car.
She stands a few feet away, wearing a summer dress fluttering in the light breeze. It’s not short, but the material is thin, outlining her body, her voluptuous thighs, the triangle of her sex, her belly, and her round breasts. Her hair is down and wavy, giving her a naturally sexy look.
I nod. “Mary. How’re things?”
“Oh, you know. So, so.”
I go to the trunk and grab my bag, and we walk up the porch together. I’d normally make somewhat of an effort with her. My desire is never to be rude to people. Just because I’m ice doesn’t mean they have to know it, but I can’t think of anything to say to the woman who, a few hours ago, was bouncing and moaning in my mind. She was mine.
“Coffee?” she asks, gesturing down the hallway.
“Sure.”
We walk past photos of her mom, gleaming bright hair, pearl necklace on in many. I know it was Mary’s idea to put them up. Brad told me. My best, and really only, friend told me.
In the kitchen, I sit at the same table I was sitting at a few months ago when she walked in, and everything changed. I almost have to clench my hands into fists to stop from completely losing it. She leans over the counter, her dress lifting a little, showing me her creamy legs and the backs of her thighs.
Fuck, to walk up, pull that dress up, caress her ass, and glide my dick between her legs. “Don’t turn around. Don’t look. This never happened. Just take my cock.” She’d moan and push against me, sliding up and down my length.
I almost flinch when she puts my coffee in front of me. “Are you okay?” she asks, sitting on the other side of the table. Good. I’d probably grab her if she were any closer. “Nervous about the fight? What am I saying? You’re never nervous, are you?”
Not about the fight, but sitting here with her is spinning something into gear, nerves and lust all at once, clashing, obsessing me.
“He beat me once before. He out-wrestled me. He was stronger and had better technique, but I’ve worked hard since then. There’s a good chance I can stop him from taking me down and knock him out.”
Her lips pull into a small smile. Has she always been this magnetic? Of course, I never noticed her like that when she was a kid. But her personality… Has she always had such an endearing smile? She was always just Brad’s sister. When I think of them now, it’s him as Mary’s brother. Everything has switched around. I need to get my priorities straight.
“You talk like a cold-blooded killer,” she says.
I shrug. “It’s better than talking like some men do. Puffing themselves up so they can trick themselves into thinking they can win. Or living in fear. I live in reality.”
Yeah, it’s a reality where kissing my best friend’s sister is the worst thing I could possibly do. I wish she’d stop moving her lips around. It’s like she’s unsure of her expression and trying to tempt me.
“You’re starting camp soon?” she asks.
“As soon as I’m done here,” I reply.
“Will you go to the lake? That’s what you usually do, right?”
It feels foolish thinking of or talking about the lake now. I’d rather spend every second with Mary. “Yeah. I’ll go there and get my mind right. It takes a special focus to get ready for a fight like this.”