Broken Fighter: BBW, New Adult Romance (5 page)

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, standing up slowly against the stiffness that had settled into his battered body. “The one at the gym was just to wash off the sweat.”
Distance,
he thought.
I’ll take my time. She’ll fall asleep. I’ll sleep in the chair, and tomorrow I’ll take her to the local bus station. Distance.

As Jackson moved passed her around the bed and toward the bathroom, she remained silent and still. It was the type of stillness that filled the air with a heaviness. Jackson wished he knew what to say to make the moment better but words failed him. Flipping the light on in the bathroom and closing the door, he left her in the empty room to face the awkward silence alone.

Relief flooded his system as he leaned with his arm outstretched, the flat of his hand against the door as a symbolic barrier to what existed beyond. Hanging his head, he breathed deeply several times before lifting his face to look at himself in the mirror. Ominous dark circles stained his skin below weary eyes. “The girl’s going to kill me,” he muttered, shaking his head. A mere four hours ago, he was getting his ass thoroughly kicked in front of hundreds of people. Three hours ago, he choked out a cop. And now, he was alone in a hotel room with a sexy young girl he had no business going anywhere near—but that did nothing to stop his body’s want.
 

Stripping off his shirt, Jackson surveyed the mottled bruises already showing up on his ribcage. Gingerly, he pressed at each rib, testing for the pain that would indicate a cracked bone. “Suck it up, man. It’s nothing that’ll kill you.” He winced at his choice of words, his gaze cutting away to the door. Closing his eyes, he shook his head at the thought of what would have happened to Emily if he hadn’t glimpsed her running down the hill and out of sight.

Bending with a slight groan, Jackson stripped his jeans and jockey shorts down the long length of his thick thighs, pushing both the jeans, shorts and his sneakers off in one move. Twisting his leg, he examined the spot just above his knee on the back of his thigh where he had been repeatedly kicked during the evening’s match. Bruising hadn’t quite made it to the surface of his skin yet but the area was red, swollen and sore to the touch. Driving on it had been a pain he had been able to block most of the way, adrenaline acting as nature’s pain killer. But now that his forward push had ended, his whole body hurt. It just
hurt
.

With his clothes left in a pile on the floor, Jackson turned on the shower spray and adjusted the temp. The motel’s water was decently hot and the steam soon drifted up from the spray’s mist to cloud the small room. Jackson stepped into the slick tub, drawing the cream colored shower curtain closed behind him.
 

“Oh God,” he groaned as he closed his eyes, immersing himself under the hot water, leaning forward on arms outstretched before him, hands flat on the tiled wall. Anymore, the pleasure pain of the hot water drumming against his abused body after a fight was the closest thing he ever got to true ecstasy. He used to feel it when he destroyed a competing fighter in the octagon but those days had become his past, absent from his future starting the day he destroyed his motorcycle and broke his body.
 

Turning his back to the nearly scalding water, he let it pound against him before bending deep enough at the waist that his hands and wrists rested against the tub’s fiberglass bottom. The long muscles of his powerful back pulled and stretched as each vertebra attempted to find its perfect alignment. Hanging his head and allowing the stretch to extend through his neck and all the way to the base of his skull, Jackson closed his eyes and focused on the heat that sank through his flesh to warm his tired muscles and aching bones.

Cool air touched his skin, pulling his attention once more out of himself. Opening his eyes, Jackson lifted his head just far enough to see the pair of dainty, bare feet a few inches in front of him. His heart thudded in his chest as his mind thought of what lay in wait above those pretty little feet.

Standing slowly, he let his eyes travel up the length of her bare ankles to smooth calves and supple thighs that reached an apex of soft, dark curls. Jackson sank to his knees, his mouth watering with the need to taste her, to lose himself in her. Licking his lips, his hungry gaze travelled up the rest of her body, his hands closing into tight fists when his eyes reached the abundant bounty of her breasts as they hung heavy and wonderful on her chest. With a will that extended beyond what he had thought he had left in him, he forced his gaze to travel beyond her soft mounds, past her delicate collar bones and up the exquisite line of her long neck until he met his angelic demon’s face. “You’re killing me,” he growled, aware that his body already telecasted his want and need of her by the heavy erection that pressed itself into his belly. When her eyes locked with the sight of his physical reaction to her, he saw her swallow. It was nearly more than Jackson could take and he closed his eyes, emitting a painful groan as images of her lush mouth sucking his cock filled his mind.

“Get out if you’re getting out,” he warned, his ravenous gaze drinking her in once more. “But if you stay, I’m having you.”

She didn’t move save for a quickening of her breath made evident by the lurid rise and fall of her sweet breasts, her nipples like large, unfurled flowers of deep pink. He thought of the sounds she would make when he captured those soft nipples in his teeth, making them go hard and tight. She made him want to own her, possess her, mark her and he pictured the red bite marks he would leave on her creamy breasts.

“Get out,” he growled, giving her another chance to escape his own personal brand of demons, his tendency to become consumed with a woman, his need to devour and to be devoured by her. He’d given up girlfriends long ago, traded them for the cage and a string of one night stands. It had been safer.

With the smallest of movements, Emily shook her head no as she worriedly bit the inside of her luscious bottom lip.
 

Jackson suppressed another growl and the ache of his turgid need. “Spread your thighs,” he demanded, his eyes unwavering as he stared into hers. He flexed his powerful shoulders in an effort to contain the pulse for action that drove itself through him.
She’s only eighteen
, he reminded himself.
Seventeen years younger, seventeen years less experienced.
“Open your thighs,” he instructed again, his voice turning to gravel as he waited for her to acquiesce.

This time, she did as she was told, hesitantly, nervously, spreading her feet to the distance allowed by the narrow tub.

“Bend your knees, point them out,” Jackson instructed, his eyes now transfixed by the hidden flower at the apex of her thighs. “Tilt your hips forward.” He nearly groaned again when the plump ridges of her hidden treasure became visible. “Bend your knees more.” This time he did groan as her soft folds bloomed in front of him, opening for inspection and invasion.

Sliding forward, Jackson buried his face in Emily’s musky fragrance, his lips latching to the small nub that only just made itself visible through her folds. Her hips bucked against him but his hands held her steady as he began to suck her, teasing her with his tongue and teeth. Her entire body shivered as he dragged the long, flat of his tongue over her tortured mound of nerves. In seconds, her hands were on the back of his head, holding him to her, demanding more as he licked, teased and sucked. His strong hands at her hips guided her to deepen her squat. He wanted her open to him, vulnerable to him.
 

Gasping, Emily cried out as Jackson’s finger found her yielding center and sunk inside her with one swift, hard thrust to claim her unprotected depths. Her hips wiggled and she tried to straighten her legs to lift her speared pussy off his probing finger but his hold on her refused to allow her to escape his exploration of her hot, velvet core. She whimpered when one finger became two and fought to climb the slick walls when two fingers became the searing pain of three. And still, Jackson’s mouth sucked her nub, moving with her as she twisted and squirmed from a pleasure driven agony that threatened to eclipse her consciousness. An all consuming pleasure that was darker than anything she had ever known rose up to spread throughout her body, her throbbing pussy at its beating heart. As her nails clawed the walls, reaching and searching for something she didn’t yet understand, a distant voice inside her head beaconed for her to let go…to just let go. She needed to lose herself, to forget her own name, to forget all the problems that nipped at her heals like rabid dogs.
 

Jackson’s mouth was unrelenting, unforgiving, as he demanded Emily’s pleasure. His strong lips and acrobatic tongue made her clit throb as her insides ached with a need for something more, something thicker and heavier than what his fingers could provide. And yet, inside her hot depths his fingers stroked a spot that swelled, making her feel as if she had to pee. She wanted to tell him to stop, that she couldn’t take any more, but the words became trapped in her throat, her body unwilling to end her tormented ecstasy. Only incoherent sounds escaped her, her every muscle tight, her body trembling, as Jackson’s fingers stroked and his mouth ravaged. Inside her belly, deep and heavy, the intensifying pressure that wound itself into a tight ball of blissful agony—suddenly broke.
 

 
Throwing her head back hard against the tiled wall, Emily’s pleasure-blinded eyes danced with stars as her pussy’s walls milked Jackson’s large, thick fingers, her clit swollen and throbbing with an overwhelming sensitivity. Her hands pushed at Jackson’s head with a furious desperation to separate his mouth from her clit, his touch suddenly too sensitive for her overwrought body to tolerate.

Releasing her, Jackson stood, taking his time, letting his eyes drink in her curves and her softness as he unfolded himself to his full height. He towered over her, his muscles lean and thick, his body bruised and battle worn. With large, rough hands, he traced her, following her shape, the smooth slope of her outer thighs, the ample roundness of hips that screamed of fertile rites, into the supple valley of her waist before climbing higher toward her heavily hanging breasts. But he wouldn’t allow himself that pleasure yet. Instead, he slid his hands behind her, following the glorious line of her back until, as he reached her shoulder blades, he pulled her into him, warm and safe, cradling her head beneath his chin. There, under the hot water’s spray, he held her as her body continued to tremble from pleasure’s shockwaves, her fingers telecasting the need for more as her nails dug into the taught flesh of his back.

Pivoting them both, Jackson moved Emily between himself and the shower’s spray and then adjusted the shower’s head downward so that the pelting water matched her height. Lifting her face to his with a finger beneath her chin, he bent and kissed her soft lips before brushing at her cheeks with large thumbs to wash away what little remained of the grime forced on her by her would-be killer. “What are you doing getting in this shower with me, little one?” he asked, his voice thick and heavy. “Did you think there was an outcome that had me doing less than tasting you?” He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he closed his eyes, remembering, “You are so fucking delicious.” It was everything he could do not to declare in caveman style sentiment that she would spread her legs and carry his seed. Opening his eyes to look down upon her angelic face again, he craved to mark her, to own her. Between them, his long, thick length pressed itself with insistent determination into the soft swell of her lower belly.
Get on all fours—now,
he fought back the demand that burned to gain voice.
Take it easy,
he warned himself
.
 

Emily’s eyes fluttered and Jackson’s control slipped in the form of a growl that rumbled up from the depths of his powerful chest. She swallowed in response, nervously, visibly, filling Jackson’s mind with images of having her swallowing as his long, swollen cock slid into her round, stretched mouth, her full lips snug, her big eyes looking up at him as she knelt, her hands tied behind her back as she put aside all of her defenses, placing herself fully, completely, irrevocably in his care.
 

“God, woman,” he managed to get out. “Use that sexy voice of yours before I decide to give you other things to do with that fucking mouth.” When Emily’s pouty, plump lips parted, her eyes going large and round at his frank words, it was all Jackson could do to restrain himself. Her feigned innocence was destroying him, stripping away the man that society told him to be and leaving behind a ravaging beast. “What do you want from me?” he growled through gritted teeth.
 

“To…to be my first,” Emily managed to sputter on a rushed breath, her cheeks brightening.

Jackson’s hands and arms came off of her as he took a quick step away.
Bullshit!
Disbelief raged inside of him as his eyes searched for the lie that had to be there—in her face, her eyes, her mouth…her luscious, beautiful, made-for-sucking mouth.
 

“You saved my life,” Emily continued, worry scrunching her otherwise smooth forehead. “If it has to be somebody—“

“Your
first
?” Jackson interrupted. His cock throbbed painfully as he remembered the tightness of her pussy’s sheath on his probing fingers.
No condom needed
. The little voice in his head reached his feet a split second before his brain. He stepped forward, reaching his hands out for her, before jerking himself back again. “Get the fuck out of my shower,” he growled, yanking the shower curtain open in emphasis. He was unsure of what kind of game she was playing but knew he wanted none of it. Worse, he didn’t want her falling into virgin-to-slut infatuation with him.
Nothing more psychotic than a freshly picked virgin.
And yet, her heavy hanging breasts waited for him, waited for his mouth and his hands, as his cock throbbed its painful mutiny.
 

“Don’t make me go,” Emily whispered, looking up at him beneath wet eyelashes, her large, round, pleading eyes now a warm green speckled with gold. Somewhere in their depths, Jackson lost his soul.