The Fighter's Prize - Jessa Kane Page 0,4
stuttered, then her hips start to rifle up and down, dragging her sex all over mine, her tiny ass muscles flexing in my palms.
Blyad! This is very dangerous. But her excited breaths make me crazy. Her arousal is my responsibility and I know I will not be able to stop this torture until hers is over.
“Maxim,” she sobs against my lips. “What is happening?”
I want to remind the sneaky kitten she never asked my name. But instead, I rear up and capture her tricky mouth, brutalizing it with mine, suctioning her into thorough, invading kisses until her fingernails are buried in my shoulders. My cock is a vessel of pain and agony at this point but she rides it, grinds on it, as if there will be no consequences.
“Are you going to come on it, little kotik?”
“Y-yes.” Her eyes glaze over. “Oh God. I can’t stop rubbing…”
“I am allowing this torture, Whitney,” I say through my teeth. “Because I know how rough I will be on you tomorrow. As soon as my fight ends, I will fuck you full of my seed.”
“Only if you win,” she gasps.
My eyebrow goes up at that. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” Her forehead grinds into my shoulder, her hips pumping hot and fast. “Otherwise I have to marry Banner.”
The bellow that leaves my mouth shakes the glass of the office window.
Rage like I’ve never known boils up like oil, black filtering into my vision.
My chest is going to cave in. My muscles are going to leap from my flesh.
Whitney is trying to scramble off my lap, but I catch her waist and lunge to my feet. Two steps and I pin her down on the couch, dodging her flailing arms. “Explain yourself.”
I regret shouting when her eyes grow round and a little fearful. “My father b-b-bets on the fights and he lost. A bunch. And now he’s in debt. Banner promised to keep the loan sharks off my father’s back if I marry him.”
The veins in my neck twist, ready to pop. “Do you want to marry this svolach?”
“No.” The more violent parts of my rage slowly dissipate at her answer. “That’s why I came here. I thought…m-maybe…”
“What? That I would sample the pussy and want to buy it for myself?”
She slaps me across the face. Hard.
My ears actually ring.
Impressive.
I’m not used to tempering myself around women. I reside in a man’s world, a brutal one, and we speak plainly. Crudely, even, at times. On top of that, there is the matter of my pride. It has been damaged by the proof she seduced me with ulterior motives.
Did she truly want me at all?
“If you talk to me like that, you are no better than him,” she hisses, taking advantage of my shock to launch herself past me, bounding off the couch and stomping for the door. “Forget it. I’ll be better off with the devil I know.”
“You will not take another step away from me, Whitney!”
She takes another step. Several, actually.
I catch up to her halfway across the main floor, wrapping an arm around her middle and hauling her off the floor. With her back against my chest, she struggles in mid-air, and I do not like it. She is not supposed to fight me. Or be angry with me.
Why was I not more sensitive with my words?
“You will marry no one but me, kotik,” I growl in her ear. “He will not last a round with you on the line. That is a vow.”
“Let me go.”
There are tears in her voice.
They rip at my heart like metal claws.
“Whitney, I have made you sad now, too? First sexy. Then angry. Now crying.” Agony leaves holes in my gut. “I am not good with this kind of thing. I only know I will break Banner’s face tomorrow and you will be mine. Never his!”
At least she has stopped struggling.
Cautiously, I set her down, bracing for another impressive slap.
“I just wanted to avoid one husband,” she says, tossing her hair and looking back at me over her shoulder. “I never said I wanted another.”
“Details, details. You are mine.”
I reach for her, but she steps out of my grasp. “We’ll see.”
I’m left stunned and ravaged as she struts toward the door and pushes out into the night. I am also determined. Violently so.
My fists curl into unbreakable stones at my side.
Banner will regret the day he coveted what’s mine.
Whitney.
3
Whitney
The next morning, front row seats to the fight are delivered to our apartment door.
They are wrapped in a note