Trigger: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance (13 page)

Chapter Thirty Six

Travis

God, what a little minx Roxy Rockatansky was.

As she lay pinned beneath me on the mats, I knew my beautiful ex-girlfriend was going to pull out all the stops – and I couldn’t let her win.

I kissed her furiously – pinning her wrists above her head as I lay pinned between her thighs.

“I mean it, Travis,” Roxy purred, grinding her hips against mine. “You cum first? You take me to London.”

I snorted.

Who the fuck did she think I was?

In the four years since I’d left Freeport, I hadn’t exactly been a boy scout. There’d been models, and actresses, and strippers and groupies. Shit, my buddy Nico and I had even spent a year tag-teaming a sexy reporter called Lyssa, up until Nico got engaged and she ran off with a super-heavyweight from Spain.

So if this little minx thought I was the same sweet and innocent boy who’d spurt from a handjob in the back of her dad’s truck, she was in for a surprise.

A
pleasant
surprise.

“Oh, you’re for it now,” I growled, and kissed her like I’d never kissed before.

I literally
devoured
Roxy, pinning her wrists above her head, and kissing her furiously.

Roxy moaned hotly in my mouth, and from the way her body went limp I knew she was into it.

Shit, I know what I’m doing when it comes to a woman’s body.

I kissed Roxy until she started to grind her hips against me; rubbing herself against my hard-on through my pants.

We were practically dry-humping like teenagers, and I could almost feel her wetness through the material of her
gi
.

That meant it was time for it to come off.

With a snarl, I released Roxy’s wrists, and snatched for the hem of her t-shirt. A moment later, I was pulling it off over her head – and then wrenching her sports bra with it.

Within seconds, Roxy was flopping back down to the mats – naked from the waist up.

“Fuck,” I breathed, staring down at her full, round breasts and her hard little nipples. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Roxy laughed, and pulled me down for another kiss.

This time, her bare breasts were crushed against my bare chest, and the feel of her skin against mine was electric.

I lost myself in the sensation for a second, and that gave her the upper hand. With a snarl, she rolled us over – until suddenly I was the one pinned to the floor again, and she was on top of me in a classic Jujitsu mount.

Well, as classic as it can get, when you’re a sexy, topless girl.

“You can’t win, Travis,” Roxy purred, as she slid down my body, and hooked her fingers into the hem of my training pants. “This is one more martial art I’m
definitely
a master in.”

And then she wrenched down my pants and boxers, in one fluid movement.

I gasped as my bare ass suddenly met the cold vinyl, and my straining cock sprang free.

Up it pointed towards the ceiling, like the Washington fucking Monument.

“So, are you going to take me to London? Or what?”

And, as she said that, Roxy crawled forward on her hands and knees, and curled her fingers around my straining shaft.

“Oh, fuuuck,” I arched my back, at the delicious sensation of her soft skin on my cock.

God, the little minx… With one hand, she was stroking my straining shaft. With the other, she was squeezing and massaging my heavy balls.

“Well?” She demanded – but before I could answer, Roxy had opened my mouth, and enveloped my cock between her lips.

“Huuungh,” I clawed at the vinyl mats, as I felt the warm, wet, delicious sensation of her mouth on my cock.

Jesus, it was
delicious
. I’d forgotten how amazing Roxy was at that. She and I had learned everything we knew about sex from each other – and despite all the girls, and all the blowjobs, in the past four years…

…well, nobody could do it like her.

“Mmmpgh?” Roxy asked, her voice muffled as she swallowed inch after inch of my straining cock. I lay there, looking down between my legs, and couldn’t believe it as she took nearly my full length between her lips.

And then up she reared, and my cock sprang from her mouth, glistening and wet with saliva.

Roxy giggled, wiping saliva from her chin.

“I guess I should even the odds,” she purred, wriggling out of her
gi
pants as she knelt between my legs. “I did say this was a challenge…” She kissed the tip of my straining cock. “So I suppose I should give you a chance.”

And then she was naked. Naked in the sunlight of the karate studio, bathed in the light flooding through the big windows.

It was deliciously dirty. Fuck, anybody could drive through the lot at any time, and all they’d have to do is peer through the dirty glass and they’d see
everything
.

But Roxy didn’t seem to care.

Kicking aside her pants, she straddled me – reaching between us to grab the root of my straining, spit-slick cock.

She maneuvered it between her legs, and I gasped as the head of my cock sunk between the lips of her eager pussy.

And then, pressing her palm against my chest to steady herself, Roxy lowered herself onto my dick.

“Oh,
fuuuuck
,” she gasped, as she felt my thickness stretch and fill her. Down and down Roxy sunk, accepting inch after inch of me, until finally she was totally impaled – sitting snug in my lap, with the curve of her ass pressed against the muscle of my hips.

Gasping, Roxy bit her lip, and looked down at me mischievously.

“You remember the deal, right? You cum first, and you take me to London as your trainer.”

I groaned, as I lay there beneath her. That was one hell of a challenge. Roxy was a curvy, gorgeous goddess, and I was buried balls-deep inside of her. And that was before she even started rocking back and forth.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, reaching down to grab my hands. She lifted them to her breasts, and my fingers tightened on her soft, fullness. “I’d forgotten how
big
you were.”

If you’re trying to make a guy cum quickly, that’s one excellent way to start.

And Roxy continued in the same vein. She began to grind herself in my lap, working herself back on forth on my big cock, even as she crushed my hands to her big breasts, and moaned and gasped above me.

Jesus, it felt
amazing
. Her warm, tight pussy gripped me like honey, and I felt every sensation as she she squirmed, and writhed, and rocked back and forth in my lap.

“Cum for me, baby,” Roxy purred, biting her lip. “You know you’re going to… don’t fight it.”

Shit, I didn’t want to fight it. I could already feel my balls churning, as an orgasm built up within me.

“Cum for me,” she purred, rocking back and forth harder now, skewering herself on my cock. “Just give in… you know you want to.”

And, fuck, I
did
want to. But I knew if I surrendered, she’d hold me to my word – and make me to take her to London as my trainer.

An MMA League heavyweight with a
female
trainer. What would the guys make of
that
?

“C’mon, baby,” Roxy let go of my hands, and used them to brace herself instead – placing both palms flat on my chest as she rode me back and forth. “C’mon, give me what I want…”

I grinned, as I stared up at my beautiful ex-girlfriend. Oh, sure, she was fucking my brains out. I felt an orgasm galloping towards me like a stampede. But I also knew that look on Roxy’s face, and the sounds she made when she was close, too.

Could I hold out just a little bit longer? Just long enough for her to tip herself over the edge to an orgasm of her own.

“Oh, fuck, you bastard,” Roxy giggled, confirming my suspicions. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to make
me
cum.”

And that’s when I suspected I had her.

With a snarl, I reached up and pushed Roxy over. She toppled with a squeak – and I rolled right on top of her – never pulling my cock from within her.

And then she was on her back, and I had her pinned to the mats, and it was
my
turn to fuck her.

I looked down, into Roxy’s sex-drunk eyes, and I grinned wolfishly.

“It’s my turn now…”

And then I started to fuck her.

God, it felt good to be in control. To have this beautiful girl pinned beneath me – helpless.

I hooked my elbows under her knees, and practically bent Roxy in half. That allowed my cock to sink inside her right to the hilt, and she cried out as she felt herself skewered.

And then I thrust.

I fucked I looked down, into Roxy’s sex-drunk eyes, and I grinned wolfishly.

“It’s my turn now…”

And then I started to fuck her.

God, it felt good to be in control. To have this beautiful girl pinned beneath me – helpless.

I hooked my elbows under her knees, and practically bent Roxy in half. That allowed my cock to sink inside her right to the hilt, and she cried out as she felt herself skewered.

And then I thrust.

“Oh, fuck!” Roxy’s eyes shot open, as she felt my big cock hit her in exactly the right spot. “Oh,
Jesus
.”

I grinned, and fucked her hard, and fast, and deep.

I gazed down into Roxy’s beautiful blue eyes, and I rutted with her like a stallion – listening to her moans and cries like they were music.

Fuck, even after four years, I knew her body. I knew how to make her sing. She thought she had me beat – but I was a champion both in and out of the octagon.

“Oh,
fuuuck
,” Roxy was squirming now, eyes rolling upwards into the top of her head. “Oh, you
fucker
.”

And that’s when I knew I had her.

I grinned, and bent my head down to kiss her. With my mouth pressed against hers, I fucked Roxy with deep, relentless strokes, until I felt her body shuddering beneath me.

She was gasping, and groaning.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck…”

And then I tipped her over the edge.

Wailing, Roxy came on my cock – shuddering and arching her back as an orgasm washed over her.

I grinned victoriously, and continued to fuck her – riding her like a rodeo pony, until her first orgasm was followed by a second. She squirmed and gasped as she came – and I was still fucking her as she flopped, limp and lifeless, onto the mats.

Roxy lay there, panting, and barely found the strength to murmur: “Y-you bastard. You win.”

I grinned, but didn’t let up.

I was in this for me, now. I’d given my gorgeous ex-girlfriend what she’d challenged me to, and now it was my turn.

So I slowed my thrusts, and I luxuriated in the sensation of her warm, firm body.

Beneath me, Roxy shivered. She turned her head, and murmured: “You always knew how to turn me on.”

“You bet I do,” I purred back – and I reached up to stroke her matted hair from her cheek.

And it was gazing into her eyes, with my fingers against her soft skin, that I tipped over the point of no return – and I groaned as I emptied myself inside her.

Roxy shuddered as she felt me throb, and pulse inside her – and then she welcomed me into her arms as I slumped, spent, across her chest.

God, that had been incredible. One of the most intense and intimate orgasms of my life.

It was weird to suddenly be brought back from that exquisite intensity – to the cold, clammy reality of our bare asses on sweaty vinyl.

I rolled off Roxy, and lay beside her – naked on the mats.

“Y-you win,” she gasped, catching her breath.

“Yeah,” I nodded, staring up at the ducts and pipes overhead. “but…”

Rolling over, I looked at Roxy’s flushed, sweaty face.

“…but I was thinking about it, even as we fucked. And you know what? You’re right.”

I reached over, and squeezed Roxy’s hand.

“I should be taking you to London. As my trainer.”

Roxy’s eyes widened.

Sticky and panting, she peeled her bare skin from the vinyl mats, and rolled over.

“Are you serious?”

I stared at her, and nodded.

“You’re a world-class martial arts instructor,” I told her. “You’re my oldest friend. And I owe you.”

And then, with a wide smile, I admitted:

“And besides… who else was I gonna take?”

Chapter Thirty Seven

Roxy

Ol’ Smokey’s.

After what had happened the night before, I’d have been happy to never see that dive again.

But Travis and I had business there – and that left us with no other choice.

I’d had to wait until my final classes had ended for the night before Travis could pick me up in his dad’s old truck – and then we powered down the gulf coast highway to the old bar, with butterflies churning in my stomach.

Smokey’s was just the same as it had been the night before – lights glarind, music blaring, and the parking lot full of Harleys, muscle cars and pick-up trucks.

Travis pulled his dad’s truck to a halt in the same spot as last time – right by the curb, and ready to peel out at a moment’s notice. Then he cut the engine, and looked across the long, bench seat towards me.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “I’m nervous.” He shook his head. “I
never
get nervous.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand.

“C’mon. I’m right there with you.”

And, with that, we hefted open the creaking doors of the old truck, and our boots hit the dirt.

Just like the night before, a band was playing old rock music overhead, and there was a bouncer at the bottom of the stairs. This time, though, he recognized us – and waved Travis and I past without so much as a word.

Travis reached back to hold my hand, and he led me up the wooden steps to the old bar.

As he pushed open the door, we were hit again by that wall of smoke and heat, and the deafening music made my chest vibrate. I practically had to force myself inside – and immediately found myself cheek-to-jowl with bikers, truckers and the sorts of people respectable folk in Freeport crossed the street to avoid.

Travis gripped my hand tightly, and pointed across the crowded floor. There, in his makeshift VIP section, was that bearded bastard Red.

To his credit, the crook noticed us too – and waved cheerily across the crowded bar. I found it ironic that the man who’d busted up Walt’s hands was waving to us like a high school cheerleader invited her friends to sit at the same cafeteria table.

“C’mon,” Travis yanked my hand, and he led me through the sweaty, looming crowd towards the raised dias.

We hadn’t even crossed half the room before we heard Red’s thick southern accent.

“Well,
Lord
,” he boomed, gesturing for a bruised and pale-looking Roy to pull back the barrier rope. “If it ain’t Trigger and his lovely young filly. Come up here, son. Take a pew.”

And this time, Travis didn’t hesitate. He led me past Roy – giving his vanquished opponent a respectful nod as he passed – and stood looming over Red as the bearded club owner law sprawled on his couch.

“So, to what do I owe this honor?” Red demanded, peering up at Travis as my former-boyfriend towered over him. “You got nearly a week before I need my next payout.”

Any normal man would be intimidated – Travis is pretty goddamn scary when he wants to be – but Red looked utterly nonplussed as he gazed up at him.

“I’m here about that,” Travis grunted, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “I think I’m gonna be able to pay you off – but I need time.”

Red’s face broke into a wolfish grin.

The burly redhead clambered off the couch, and squared off in front of Travis. It looked absurd – a stocky, pot-bellied thug gazing up at a towering MMA fighter – but Red held the confidence of a heavyweight.

“Well, sorry, son – but time is one luxury you don’t have.”

Travis didn’t blink.

“I’ll pay it all off. All four grand, the week after next. You have my word.”

Red narrowed his eyes.

“When it comes to gambling debts, nobody’s word is worth much round here,” Red warned. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Well,” Travis reached for the pocket of his jeans, “how about
this
.” And then he pulled out a print-out we’d pulled from the inkjet at X-AMERICA, moments before we’d left.

It was the new fight itinerary for MMA #145 – the MMA League event in London, that Saturday.

Red snatched the folded paper and reached to his belt. A moment later, he was unfolding reading glasses and sliding them onto his nose.

Travis and I glanced at each other as we witnessed it. It seemed crazily out-of-character.

“Well, I never,” after scanning the page, Red looked up – peering at Travis through his glasses. “Back in the octagon. In
London
, no less.”

He grinned.

“Purse money good?”

“Enough to pay you back,” Travis nodded. “All I need is the extra week. You promise not to touch my dad during that time, and we’ve got ourselves a deal.”

Red pulled the glasses off, and stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“Take a pew,” he repeated, gesturing towards the ratty old armchairs either side of his sofa. “Let’s rap.”

And, reluctantly, Travis and I sunk down into the old chairs.

Red clicked his fingers, and a waitress brought over a tray of Miller Lite cans. Travis waved his hand to refuse his, but Red grabbed it and barked: “You want to do business with me, you drink with me. That’s my only rule.”

And so, reluctantly, Travis reached for the can.

“So here’s the deal, son,” Red grinned, slurping his beer, and wiping the foam from his beard. “I’m more than happy to take your money. I like old Walt. The thought of breakin’ his legs didn’t exactly sit pretty with me.”

“It didn’t stop you plannin’ to do it,” I snapped. Red turned and stared at me – this is the first time I’d spoken in his presence.

“That’s true, darlin’,” he raised his beer in a mock toast, “but that’s strictly business.” He drained the can, and crushed it in his fist. “Don’t mean I have to
like
it.”

I glanced across at Travis, and saw that his hands were balled into fists. Clearly he was not impressed by Red’s words.

But like the professional he was, Travis kept his cool.

“So, what’s the deal,” he demanded, sipping his beer distastefully. “Why are we still talking?”

Red turned to him and splayed out on the couch.

“’Cos your new fight offers us more than just a way to square our debt. It’s an
opportunity
.”

Travis narrowed his eyes.

I couldn’t blame him. We’d both grown up in this town of shysters and bums. The word ‘opportunity’ here normally meant a con of some kind.

But Travis’ reaction didn’t stop Red.

Sitting up, the redhead leaned towards Travis, and explained:

“There’s money to be made on these fights.
Big
money. Especially if you know the outcome.”

His lips curled menacingly.

“So if we were to know the outcome of this fight in London, for example…” Red winked at Travis. “Well, let’s just say that your pop’s debt to me would be chump change.”

Travis gulped dryly.

“What are you suggesting?”

Red pursed his lips, trying to look reassuring despite Travis’ apparent skepticism.

“Maybe if I knew you were gonna
lose
that fight,” he purred, “I could make some bets beforehand. Make a nice
tidy
sum.”

He leaned even closer to Travis, head practically in his lap.

“And if I did that, I could make sure you and your young lady over there were very well taken care of.”

It took Travis a moment to respond.

“Are you… Are you asking me to
throw
the fight?”

“Woah, woah,” Red looked around nervously, to see if anybody had heard Travis’s accusation. “Nobody’s sayin’
that
.” Then, as soon as he’d reassured himself nobody had overheard, Red leaned in and admitted: “But,
yes
.”

Travis made to stand up, and balled his hands into fists.

“Why, you son of a…”

“Woah, woah,” for the first time since we’d known him, Red looked genuinely nervous. He held up his hands, and pleaded: “Calm down, big fella. We’re just shootin’ the shit.”

Travis didn’t move to calm down. In fact, he looked a hair’s breadth away from actually planting one of those big fists right into Red’s face.

“
Red
,” I leaned over and hissed at the stunned-looking redhead, “I’d backtrack on that suggestion. It ain’t smart for more reasons than the two you’re looking at right now.”

And those two ‘reasons’ were Travis’ tightly coiled fists.

“Travis is a last-minute fill-in, and he’s coming in off the back of two losses,” I tried to talk quickly – to diffuse this situation before it got any uglier. “You aren’t going to make a dime betting
against
him.”

Travis turned and looked at me – that angry mask turning to a puppy-dog expression of betrayal.

“I’m sorry, hun,” I looked up and shrugged self-consciously. “But it’s the truth.”

And, bless his heart, Travis was smart enough to accept that.

“Okay,” Red injected, looking warily back and forth between me and Travis. “So we’re decided. Nobody’s throwin’ the fight.” He waited until Travis uncurled his fists, and eased himself back down into the chair.

“So level with me, Trigger,” Red demanded. “If y’ain’t gonna lose to him – what are the chances that you can
win
?”

And that’s when I saw the light in Travis’ eyes that I’d once fell in love with.

My towering lover grabbed his beer, and took a swig. And then he turned to Red and growled:

“This might be my last chance to make it in the MMA League - so you bet your
ass
I’m gonna win.”

“It’s not my ass I’m bettin’,” Red warned. With a wry smile, he purred: “If you say you can win, I believe ya. Shit, I saw you choke Roy out like a little bitch just last night.”

Roy, who was just a few feet away, manning the VIP rope, cringed when he heard that.

“But here’s the thing,” Red leaned in towards Travis, and demanded: “Are you willin’ to bet
your
ass on that? ‘Cos if you are, I’ve got a deal for you.”

This was the shit after school specials were written about. It’s the situation that had led to Walt getting his hands busted. But Travis sat there, and listened, as Red continued:

“If you think you can
really
beat this guy, let’s put some skin in the game. The four grand your old man owes me.”

Red clicked his fingers at the waitress, demanding another beer. 

“How ‘bout you bet
that
?”

Travis blinked.

I couldn’t say I blamed him. I was pretty stunned at the suggest myself.

“I mean, I’d have to check the odds,” Red continued, as if he’d suggested nothing more extreme than buying a lottery ticket. “But I reckon I could double your money, if you do what you claim you’re gonna.”

Travis gulped.

A moment earlier, he was ready to crush Red’s nose like a ripe tomato. Now he looked genuinely nervous.

“A-and if I
don’t
?”

Red snorted.

Turning to Travis, he purred:

“And if you don’t win, you lose that four grand – and your old man’s debt becomes
your
debt.”

Travis paused. His handsome face was a mask, as he contemplated what Red was suggesting.

If he won, he’d write off his dad’s debt, and double his money.

But if he lost…

“Nah,” Travis responded. “That’s too much risk. I’m not down.” Looking at Red, he growled: “No offense, but I’m here to get my family
out
of debt – not further in hock to you.”

Red chuckled good naturedly. He looked up as a waitress tottered over, and accepted the can of beer she handed him.

“No offense taken,” the redhead grinned, as he slurped his second Miller Lite. “But just to be clear, I wasn’t
askin
’.”

Travis paused again, his beer poised at his lips.

“Listen, son,” Red continued. “I recognize an opportunity when I see one. And if you’re as good as you say you are, there’s money to be made bettin’ on you come Saturday. But I
never
bet on a man unless he’s got skin in the game. If he ain’t personally got something to lose, I can’t trust he’s got the heart to win.”

Travis sat there silently, peering across the VIP section towards Red.

“Are you for real?”

Red slurped his beer.

“Real as day,” he promised.

“I’m not going to bet four grand I don’t even
have
yet.”

“Well, then,” Red purred, “I guess I ain’t lettin’ you out of your delivery date. Money next week, or your old man’s takin’ a trip to the emergency room.”