Vegas, Baby Volume 3 - Fiona Davenport Page 0,59

when something caught my eye, and I spun around to fully face the ring.

The world around me seemed to stop with one exception. Climbing into the ring from the opposite side was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen in my thirty-five years. She was tall and slender, almost a little too thin but with just enough curves to her hips that they would be perfect for holding while I fucked her. Her tits were on the small side, but they were perfect to me. Round and perky with hard little nipples that made my mouth water. She had shoulder-length blond hair, and when she stood and her eyes swept the area around her, I almost got lost in their turquoise depths. They were unique and amazing.

As I drank in the sight of her, my mood began to plummet, and I felt my expression harden. The reason I was able to admire her so closely was because she was practically fucking naked. Her tiny black bikini top (if you could call two triangles and a piece of string a top) barely contained her tits, and the thin material made it very clear she was a little cold. The bottoms were tied at the sides, hanging low on her hips, and I was almost positive that if she moved the wrong way, the fabric would no longer cover her pussy.

Possession slammed into me, and an inferno raged inside me. No one was allowed to see her like this but me. She walked over to the referee, and he handed her large white cards with numbers on them. She was a ring girl?

“Oh, fuck no,” I snarled. I charged to the ring and swung myself up on the side before quickly climbing over the ropes. By the time I reached her, I’d pulled off my long, silver robe and threw it over her shoulders, covering what was for my eyes only.

She gasped as I tied the robe tightly closed but didn’t have a chance to say anything because I lifted her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold and marched back over to one side of the Octagon. I maneuvered us over the ropes and then jumped to the ground, easily landing on my feet. Keeping her firmly in my grasp, I stomped over to Knox and gently set her back on her feet. “Hold this for me,” I growled.

2

Angelique

Hold this for me?! What in the heck just happened?

Fisting my hands at my hips, I turned to glare at the guy who’d just carted me out of the ring and into a corner of the stadium. He was so darn tall, I had to tilt my head all the way back to meet his dark eyes. I gulped a little when I took in how gorgeous he was with chiseled features, lush lips, and thick, dark hair. But just because he was sexier than any guy I’d ever seen before didn’t mean I wasn’t going to give him a piece of my mind. He started to walk away, and I shouted, “Hey, wait! You can’t just pick me up, put me where you want me, and tell some strange guy”—I hitched my thumb in the direction of the man he’d given his ridiculous command to—“to hold me for you...while calling me a ‘this.’ I’m a woman, not a thing.”

He pivoted back around, and his gaze swept down my body, which was now covered by the huge robe he’d thrown over me. When his eyes came back up again and met mine, they’d darkened a shade. “I’m well aware that you’re a woman. The scraps of material you’re wearing that are supposed to pass for a bikini made it more than clear. I could see just about every inch of your delectable body, including your pebbled nipples pressing against the top.”

One of the guys behind me chuckled, and I turned to direct my glare at him as my cheeks filled with heat. He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, and said, “I’m not laughing at you. I swear, it’s aimed one hundred percent at Saint.”

Saint?! Oh, crap! No wonder he was so strong he could pick me up and carry me as though I weighed no more than a small child. He had to be the reigning MMA champ who my brother had somehow weaseled his way into fighting against. I swiveled my head back to Saint and asked, “You’re fighting Vince Butler tonight?”

His eyebrows lifted as his head jerked