PUSH: Ultra Alpha MMA Badboy Mafia Romance (Southside Brotherhood Book 2) (20 page)

Lilly raised her fists in mock battle, and Flynn decided feeling her against him for the next hour outranked giving her the first spanking. But, sure as Gabriel fell from heaven, it wouldn’t be long.

“You’re going to kill me, you know that, don’t you? Now, just come here and shut the fuck up.” He couldn’t help the little lift in his voice as he looked at her playful fists.

He jerked her hips back into him, his chest warm on her back. His damn overzealous cock pushed into the crack of her spectacular ass, sending a dozen dirty thoughts through his mind.

“So, is that thing going to turn itself off, does it have a timer? Or did you take a few too many of those blue pills?”

Flynn kissed her neck, reached around to slip one finger down into the soft wetness of her heaven.

“Oh, God — I’m sorry! Don’t… God, I don’t think I can again. It really hurts.” Her voice cracked with laughter and just a touch of fear.

“Don’t test me. There no pill in the fucking world that can do what you’re doing to me.” Flynn stroked inside her slowly, gently until he felt her body soften.

His fingers strummed lightly on her folds until she flooded his hand, and her hips started to grind against him.

“You’re playing with fire,” Flynn said.

“Please,” she whispered, and Flynn’s dick lost any etiquette it may have had.

He slipped into her from behind, spreading her and loving her slowly as she raised one leg up onto him.

“Take it babe” He marked her with his teeth as his spit-slick fingers played with her from the front.

The sounds of her bliss rose with the sun as Flynn sank home and clutched a hand at her throat.

“You’re mine. This is all mine. And I take care of what’s mine. Are we clear?”

Lilly’s tender flesh spasmed around him as he gave her as much as she could take. His instinct told him his hand at her throat would be something his little firedoll needed. When she jerked in his arms yelping with pain and pleasure he knew his instinct was spot on.

“Where do you want my cum, babe? You want it in your mouth?”

Flynn knew he only had about three seconds before there would be no choice.

Lilly answered with a backward push of her hips, her fingers clutching around the back of his thigh, urging him forward only seating him deeper, leaving no doubt she wanted him inside her to the end.

Flynn let out a guttural roar, holding himself in the clutch of her silk walls. For the first time in his life, he let his seed flow flesh to flesh, his claim of ownership on Lilly sealed.

Chapter Seventeen

Once Flynn was assured Lilly was safe and sound back in the mansion, he retreated to the guest house for a quick shower and then hunkered down to watch until the little sky blue Nissan buzzed down the driveway and disappeared onto the street.

Good, fuck. I’m beat. Zero sleep and a dick workout like I’ve never dreamed. Golden ticket right there, my little Irish firecracker. Probably going to be what kills me. Whatever, I’ll die smiling with my dick still hard. Can’t imagine a better way to go.

After Lilly left, he retreated across the back forty of the estate. Flynn unscrewed the base of the lock on the storage garage nestled in some tall pines by the back fence. Inside, there it was.

His 1982 white Bronco.

His father hated that he’d managed to find a way to buy his own ride when he turned sixteen. He drove that beauty around, kept her humming and put together better than any new car in the family garage.

But, a year ago, Colin gave all of them brand new Black Suburbans and, under pressure, Flynn had decided his little beauty needed a rest.

And that's where she stayed, in the family garage, looked over and maintained by the family mechanic, until Colin kicked Flynn out four months ago. Then, they dumped him off and put the Bronco into storage. Since then, Flynn hadn’t thought much about retrieving her… until now.
All the other family members cars were tracked, part of security. Reggie — the cool, old dude who kept all their vehicles running smooth — had been slipped a cool grand by Flynn to ensure the Bronco never ended up with its own little black box.

The old man had kept his word.

Now, more glorious than the day he’d bought her, there his Bronco sat, and Flynn thought the chrome grill looked like a smiling friend.

“Okay, you were my first girl, but you’ve been replaced. I still love you, though, so show me what you got.” Flynn slipped the key into the ignition as he held his breath. With a roar, the old storage garage filled with a cloud of exhaust as she burned off months of quiet.

“Good girl. Now, let’s go have some fun.”

***

Inside Southside, Roger worked Flynn until his muscles burned and he could barely take a breath.

“You’re outta shape.”

“Had a little injury.” Flynn tried not to sound too flip. Respecting your coach, even when you were supposed to just be there to watch over a family investment, was still ingrained in him.

“Yup. I see that. Doesn’t look like some accident either. I don’t want to know,” Roger grumbled, flapping a hand in the air. “But, I’ma tell you — you got the chops, kid. You got shit for defense, though. You’re all cobra. Sit there and take hits until you see your pocket, then you’re on ‘em like a lightning strike. But, you wanna win big, you gotta work on tryin’ not to take so many hits. You gonna end up with scrambled eggs between your ears. Now, I got you set up with Tony. You’re gonna get your ass kicked, you don’t defend yourself. You hear me?”

“Yeah.” Flynn listened to his heart beating in his ears.

He was tired as fuck but energized, like he was standing too close to a strong current. He knew why. It was her. Feeling her around him, sinking into her, her flavor, the sounds — he was already filling his shorts with a very fucking inappropriate half-boner.

“One more thing.” Roger coughed until his face glowed like a stop sign. “I got a spot in a fight down at Harway.”

“Reggie’s deal down there?” Flynn felt his fighting instinct kick in. It had been too long since he’d taken a real fight, and Reggie Johnson ran a top shelf gym on the other side of town.

“Yeeeaaah.” Roger drew out the word long and low. “You ready for some lights? Next Friday. They had a guy drop. Got word and thought you might want a shot. Can’t promise anything, Reggie brings in some eyes sometimes, you might get lucky. Hey, you never told me what your record was back in — Boston? Florida? Where the hell you say your from?”

“I’m from all over. I got a good record. Only lose when I’m told.” Flynn gave the old man a smile.

“Well, don’t fucking do that.” Roger took what was truth as a joke. “Go stay warm, but close. You’re getting in with Tony in fifteen. You show me something, I’ll get you in down at Harway. Okay?”

Flynn nodded. He knew Colin would shit a brick if he took that fight. Down there, someone could recognize him and word would get around about who he was, but fuck if he cared right now.

He wanted to be back in the game. He’d taken two falls for the family and that put him under the radar — that and the shit legacy of when he sent that kid down for his last round. No one wanted to touch him after that… no one who mattered anyway.

***

Getting Lilly a new phone would be priority after he left the gym. If he obsessed about her before, he was off the fucking chart right now. He couldn’t stop.

There was a way to get this shit storm figured out and make sure she was safe during whatever maneuvers were coming in the next weeks. He had to be able to reach her, 24/7.

As much as he hated how his entire life was logged and tracked from the time he could remember, right now, it was how it needed to be with her. She would need to make peace with that because there was no way around it.

Flynn pounded and kicked the shit out of the heavy bag, trying to keep his own demons at bay. Thoughts of the quick way to end all of the bullshit that would conspire to keep them apart crossed his mind.

He’d killed before.

He’d broken bones.

Smashed heads on command. On cement, on walls.

He’d been his family’s enforcer on more occasions than he cared to remember. Giving out beat downs was Flynn’s day in the office.

Why not one more? One more that would mean something.

Because.

That would be the end of him, and he wouldn’t leave her like that.

His gut turned as salt burned his eyes, his knuckles throbbed and his chest pulled and ached. Still, even at three-quarter speed, he could turn on the fire and throw down even an opponent tagged for an easy win against him.

He just needed the reason. And, now, he had it.

“Mick!
” Roger’s gravelly voice cut through the macabre plans that played like film noir inside his head.

Flynn jumped up and down in place, turning to see Roger leaning on his cane and waving him to the beat-up ring at the front of the gym. Inside, whoever ‘Tony’ was, he outweighed Flynn by at least thirty pounds and looked ready to tear flesh from bone.

Fuck, dude. It’s just a spar. Calm the fuck down.

Roger leaned in, eyes red rimmed but sharp, looking Flynn up and down.

“I said stay warm, not get into a damn froth.” Roger shook his head, glancing up at the glaring, bald hulk inside the ring. “Okay, listen. He’s got pounds on you, but that’s what you need. I wanna see some defense; that’s your weakness. You can’t be all pit bull — you gotta finesse it a bit. Maneuver, step around him. You’re faster. He’s a brick. Show me you can stay away.”

“So, you don’t want me to hit him? Just dance with him?” Flynn cracked his neck and gave the zealot in the ring a quick smirk.

“No, you fucking idiot. Don’t fuck around.” Roger’s free hand came around and Flynn felt the solid smack on the back of his head. “You know what I fucking mean — get in there. You came here to train, now do what I tell you or go pay someone else.”

Flynn nodded.

In the week he’d been there, the old dude had sharpened his skills. He’d worked out the kinks in his chest left from the knife and taught him some old school moves that had his timing sharper than an owl on a rat.

Inside the ring, Tony pulled his lips back to show off his black mouth guard and leaned in until the tip of his nose touched Flynn’s.

Flynn gave him a dead stare back. Fighters like him usually burned out fast. Too much ego.

“All right. Clean fight. You ready?” Roger pointed to Tony; the behemoth nodded without taking his nose from in front of Flynn’s face. “You ready?” Roger’s eyes and index finger switched to Flynn, who gave a quick single nod before turning his back and taking three steps toward his corner.

The crappy lights in the old gym buzzed and flickered. Sweat streamed down the indents of Flynn’s chest, adding light to the dark ink. The broad muscles of his chest moving under tight skin to show each tendon’s effort.

“FIGHT.”
Roger clapped the two, flat wooden pieces together. Like dogs at a track, both men came out of the gate.

Defense. Watch. Wait. Breathe.

The sound of Tony’s harsh breath and grunts filled the space between the sweat-covered men. Their feet made muffled scrapes and thuds on the mats below.

Why Tony seemed to be hellbent on making this some center ring prize fight was lost on Flynn, but he needed to focus on what Roger had told him and not worry about the reasoning of his opponent.

Tony laid in a quick succession of body blows.

Flynn spun and angled away from him, bouncing back to swing his head around and land a shin to the giant’s sweat slick shoulder with a ‘smack’.

Trying to go through the motions, Flynn felt nothing. He had no reason to fight this guy. He felt flat, dead. For a moment, the image of Lilly’s face as he entered her for the first time flashed inside his mind.

That shit cost him.

Tony hit him in the gut with a shoulder, lifting him up and over like rag doll, then bringing his head down onto the mat in a whiplash that sent stars dancing in his eyes.

“DEFENSE! For Chrissake! Don’t just let him kick your ass, you dumb mick!
Defense!
”

The words came through like a cloudy dream as Tony sat on his chest and barreled fists into the meat of his cheeks, sending his head wagging back and forth as he smiled from his superior position on Flynn’s belly.

Flynn raised his hips, his head ringing, and jolts of pain stabbed behind each eye. He shifted Tony’s weight but the big man came down with another blow, connecting with Flynn’s lip and splitting it against his lower teeth in a spray of slick warmth that spread over Flynn’s tongue like a fire.

That’s it. That’s the magic.

Flynn brought his hips up and around, swinging one leg high enough to throw the grinning fuck off balance. Once he shifted him to the left, he uncovered his face, swung his leg up and managed to get one leg around.

The metallic flavor ignited on his tongue, everything turned red, and in a matter of three seconds, Flynn flipped Tony over onto his back, exchanging their position to lay fists-into-face like a jackhammer.