FORCE: Alpha Badboy MMA Romance

BOOK: FORCE: Alpha Badboy MMA Romance
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Dani Wyatt



Everafter Publications and Dani/DD Wyatt

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Cormar Covers





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Six Weeks before Thanksgiving



Cameron didn’t taste the blood. The metallic flavor so familiar, it didn’t register anymore.

“Can you keep going?” Armand asked even though he knew damn well Cameron was fine.

Cameron took a hard kick to the teeth, the busted lip that followed the hit barely making it onto his pain radar.

He nodded, drops of sweat running into his eyes, lips pulled back exposing the neon yellow mouthpiece streaked with crimson.

Finish him. Quit fucking around — get your head out of your ass. He made you fucking bleed dude. Unacceptable. Do it. Take your fucking pink panties off and kill him.

Cameron shook the sweat from his eyes; tunnel vision blocked out everything but the face of his nameless opponent with the purple mohawk and a douche bag ‘TAPOUT’ tattoo over his chest. When the buzzing started in Cameron’s ears, the switch flipped, and the beast took over.

The next sixty seconds turned to a slow motion show of slapping fists, growling animals and the crunch of bone on bone as Cameron brought his shin around like a Medieval morningstar.

His opponent’s head cracked at a right angle to his neck, and he fell like a crash test dummy onto the mat.

Sometimes, you just need to taste the blood to bring out the beast.




There she stood, all French manicured and highlighted, boobs like cantaloupes standing unnaturally high and hard on her chest. The life sized Barbie doll leaned against the cinderblock wall in the hallway outside the locker room.

“Hey, Cam.” She popped her gum and gave him as smile as fake as her tits. “You know they call you the Force. I didn’t know that until Tiffany told me — you’ve got the most powerful punch they’ve ever recorded.”

Her sing song Trixie tone made his skin feel like fire ants were crawling up and down his back.

“You ready?” He didn’t even bother stopping as he took the sharp right down the hall toward the ‘Exit’ sign.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” She toddled behind him on those ridiculous six inch rhinestone encrusted two-buck-stripper heels.

His cock ran the evening’s agenda even though every other reasonable part of Cameron wished he was somewhere else.

“Get in.” Cameron pointed to the passenger side door of his 1967 Emerald Green Camero.

The engine fired with a vibrating roar; then settled to a thumping hum. Cameron threw it in first, popped the clutch and barely noticed she didn’t have her door shut.

When she started flapping her gums thinking they were going to make conversation, he cranked up the volume on the Five Finger Death Punch CD until the rear view mirror shook.

He kept the volume at max until they arrived at his apartment. Once there, Cameron stomped toward the door, the Trixie following behind like some brainless puppy dog.

“I love your pec tattoo. What does that mean? ‘Living Death’? Is that like a band or something?”

She threw her bag on the floor inside the apartment door and Cameron rubbed his forehead.

Before Cameron could take his next breath, he heard the soft tapping of claws across the tile floor of the kitchen as Samson and Stoli came running through the pet door and into the living room.

“OH MY GOD!” Her voice felt like someone just poked his eardrum with a needle.

The dogs were giving her a good ass and crotch sniff and Trixie backed away into the front door.

Good boys. Sniff her like the bitch-in-heat she is.

Cameron remembered the day he couldn’t take it anymore and cut the wire that held both dogs to a stake in the front yard of a house back in Detroit.

Their faces covered in scars and he could count every rib.

I guess they were born fighting too.

“Are they nice? Are they going — “ Her fake eyelashes fluttered and she held her hands high over her shoulders.

“Come on boys, you don’t want any of that.”

Cameron snapped his fingers then pointed to the back door. The two furry, wagging friends made their way outside after Cameron gave them both a scratch behind the ear.

“So, you like dogs, huh?” The way she kept herself pinned against the door watching the pet door with a nervous stare told him she wasn’t an animal lover. Big surprise.

“Are we going to fuck or what?” Cameron only needed her mouth for one thing, and the sooner she shut up and understood the one reason she was here the sooner this would be over.

“Of course baby. I just thought maybe — “

He walked into the bedroom and she followed right behind.

“Get naked.” Cameron pulled his t-shirt over his head and had his jeans off before she thought to reconsider. He folded each piece of clothing into compact, perfect squares before setting them inside the empty laundry basket on the floor.

His cock only curved at half mast, but he needed the damn release.

He would have kept his clothes on and freed just his cock from his zipper, but skin was far easier to clean than clothes. Anything she touched was getting a damn funeral pyre as soon as they were done.

“Okay, okay. Jeez, such a bossy boy.” She worked the button on her white Daisy Dukes as her eyes scanned the bedroom. “Gawd, your place is so neat. Do you even live here?” She snapped the gum in her mouth and smiled.

Cameron slid his hand low, gripping his thickening monster trying to convince it to rise to the occasion.

Trailer Trash Trixie here was new, and he hoped the variety would be enough to distract his thoughts from where he wished he could be. This ring-whore had been following Cameron around for a week or more, flashing those carbonized tits like that was some sort of incentive.

By the time naked Barbie turned around, Cameron’s boy stood at 80% and the eyes on Blondie popped out of her fake Elvira eyelashes.

“Oh, my gawd! Your cock is ah-maz-ing! That’s gonna hurt. What are you 9”? Have you measured?? Thick too. Is it going to get bigger? Cause, that thing’s scary. It’s like a third arm you got there. But, jeez, you’re beautiful, I knew I wanted to hook up with you since I saw you fight — ”

What the fuck? If you don’t stop the dip shit dick worship, I’m never going to be able to finish. Fucking boner killer, Jesus.

Cameron cut her off. “Shut the fuck up. Come here, down. Get me hard.”

He motioned for her to take her position on the floor.

“What? You’re not hard yet? Wow. I don’t know —“ Her eyelids fluttered as she stared at the monster in Cameron’s hand.

After a moment of hesitation, she smiled and did as Cameron instructed. His flavor-of-the-night dropped to her knees and opened her collagen injected lips, stretching them wide, leaving a bright red ring of lipstick around his cock as she struggled to fit him in her mouth.

Cameron closed his eyes, the sound of her slurping and the sight of her looking up at him like some used up porn whore sending his cock in the wrong direction.

Fuck man, let’s get this done. Keep your damn eyes closed so I can get what I need. She does know how to suck a cock man. She could suck a damn golf ball through a garden hose.

Cameron’s cock had a voice of its own that would not be silenced until it had the release he demanded.

The whore on the floor was no more than a blow up doll, a masturbation tool. The only image that pushed Cameron to the finish line was the face of his obsession that lived 1286 miles northeast.

Trixie did her thing until Cameron slammed every inch down her throat, and she gagged until her lips damn near turned blue. Still, she came right back for more as his hand tangled in her brillo bottle-blond Pamela Anderson hair as he face fucked her until he was bored of her mouth.

“Up. Over. Ass up on the bed.”

“Okay, maybe you could give me a little of
mouth on my sweet kitty cat.”

If you fucking think my tongue is going anywhere near that, you’re even dumber than you look.

“You don’t give the damn orders here. You do as you’re fucking told, or you get your skanky ass out. Now, you have four fucking seconds to get into position before you’re out the damn door.”

He heard her let out a soft
’ sound but she got her ass high and ready upturned on the bed, even giving him a little wiggle and a smile.

What the fuck am I doing here? Just do her man, close your fucking eyes and get it done.

Cameron used the four seconds to roll on his Trojan. He grabbed her hips, getting her into fuck position and without a word he brought his hand down hard smacking her ass as he slammed his dick into her from bow to stern.

Yep, she screamed. They always screamed.

Cameron kept his eyes on her ass, the only part of her that he could look at and not need to fight off the sick. He churned his hips, barely feeling the pleasure of her being a woman; she was just another ring-sting-fuck-hole that didn’t give a shit if he used her and threw her away like his dirty rubber.

He would become just another notch on her belt. A story to tell the others of her skanky clown tribe.

The harder he slammed into her, the louder she got. Making crazy fake moans and yelling like a wet cat.

Damn, she’s fucking loud. That shit’s distracting as hell. Shut her up or we’re never going to get this done.

His hand left her hip, reaching around to cover her mouth without missing a thrust. The only sound in the room was their flesh slapping together like a freight train racing down the tracks to nowhere.

As soon as he got her mouth under control, his mind imagined the blow up doll below him was actually
The object of his every wet dream, of every sense of purpose and worth in his fucked up life.

In his mind’s eye, he imaged
curves, soft and warm, her doe eyes fluttering as she looked up. The waves of her chestnut hair falling over her face as her mouth opened, and a soft, sweet moan came from her lips.

He let go of the blonde’s hip with his other hand, bringing it down in a loud
and filling the room with muffled screams. Her skinny ass turned bright pink morphing into stop sign red with the delivery of a series of harsh ‘smacks’.

Did she deserve it? Did she deserve for him to treat her like a useless piece of garbage? Did she deserve his hand on her ass until it welted and he knew full well sitting down wasn’t going to be an option for a day or so?

No. But what she deserved wasn’t his concern. He smacked Trixie because she wasn’t
He punished her ass because she was the one here and because he hated himself for being right here with her.

He held onto the picture of the face that haunted him day and fucking night as his cock hammered in and out. Finally, he felt the tension rise and like a rubber band pulled too far; he snapped. His cock released a load into the tip of the condom, and he let out a long exhale.

Cameron felt his muscles relax, feeling relief for at least a moment. The flesh that surrounded him meant nothing. Now, he just needed her to leave.

Which, she did. Mewing and protesting, but she left.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You have no fucking idea.”

“Do you even know my name—” Trixie’s last words as he held the door open.


He gave her a soft shove out into the parking lot.

Her heels clacked as she tripped over the curb — hair looking like she’d been on a ride with her head hanging out the car window going 90. Add that to the crazy red lipstick smeared across her face and Cameron couldn’t keep from laughing at the cartoon caricature he’d just fucked.

He called her a cab, threw fifty bucks after her and closed the door.

“Thanks! Maybe we can – “ Her voice was mercifully cut off by the click of the lock.

That there is a goddamn nightmare. Get in the fucking shower man. Sheets off the bed, empty the trash can where you tossed that cum sac. Where’s the damn bleach?

After his shower, he felt the darkness descend. The steam cleared, and he could see the man in the mirror staring back with dead ice blue eyes. A sinking indifference welled up that left him feeling like he was falling into a soul sucking black hole.

The muscles in his shoulders flexed and rippled the black primal ink designs embedded in his skin. He rocked slowly back and forth, naked, still dripping from the scalding shower, hands gripping the cool porcelain edge of the sink trying to keep his dinner from reappearing.

It happened every time he fucked one of the many that threw themselves in his path. He imagined
face, how she would feel, how it might mean something with her. Only, this time, it was different. He felt her slipping away, her image fading with each passing day and each nameless Trixie he fucked.


The words pounded inside his head until he felt like he could tear the fucking place down.

BOOK: FORCE: Alpha Badboy MMA Romance
3.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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