Read Online Savage: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance by Marci Fawn, Isabella Starling - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marci Fawn, Isabella Starling
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cats have taken their seats, Joe starts talking again. I keep sneaking glances at Adrienne and I think I catch her blushing.
Good.
Keeping my cock from throbbing in the compression shorts is a battle of its own. I admire that girl, keeping her head up after everything that’s happened to her, but I can’t help but remember how soft and lovely she was in my hands. And my cock can’t either, apparently.
I’m not going to lie, I’ve been using the image I had painted of her in my head as the one and only source to get me off ever since we first met. Seeing the real thing again is so much better, though.
You’ll be mine, sugar.
It’s as much a threat at the establishment we’ve gotten stuck in as it is a promise.
I tear my eyes away from her – it takes far too much fucking work, what with her lush lips, long tresses and that constant blush on her cheeks – and focus. Even the shittiest fighter can catch you unawares if you’re not careful and this time, I’m not just fighting for myself.
“Gentlemen,” Joe starts, and the crowd roars with laughter – other than the people upstairs, there isn’t a single man here who would answer to that particular call. “Are you ready?”
I nod shortly and Billy does the same. We meet in the middle of the cage and touch our knuckles together. I give the kid an easy smile which he doesn’t return. His cheek is twitching and I can see it carry over to his forehead as well. Boy’s fucked up on something.
Almost a shame to take him out in this state. But whatever, the best man has to win and I’ve decided that man to be me today.
“Fight!” Joe hollers, already safely out of the cage, the doors locked and the barbed wire nice and sharp, waiting for someone to be thrown into it.
I dance left and right, warming up my feet some more. I steal a look at Adrienne and she’s practically gnawing on her fingers. Damn, she looks cute when she’s nervous. Shaking my head, I look at Billy, catching him in his first charge. Though Joe called me the bull, right now I feel more like the red flag, though there are more popped vessels in Billy’s eyes than I care count as he comes at me, arms swinging.
I duck under the first punch and return one right in the solar plexus. As he keels back slightly, I knock him in the jaw from below, sending him staggering back. The crowd is already jeering and booing, trying to get Billy to ‘man up’. I know there’s a hell of a lot of money being bet in this room right now, both of me winning and losing, and the latter side doesn’t want to see me doing well or Billy going down like a felled tree.
I’m going to have to disappoint them though.
Billy shakes his head and I see sweat and saliva flying already, along with a couple droplets of blood. This stuff has always been fun for me, like stealing candy from a baby. I grin at him, motioning with my hand to come at me. He takes the bait, hook, line and sinker.
He comes at me almost blindly, swinging, and I sidestep him with trained ease. I spin back at lightning speeds and catch him in the back, shoving him with my foot to add insult to injury. He slams into the fencing and bounces back, howling with rage. The next time he comes for me, I time the hit perfectly between his frantic blows, catching him in the right cheekbone with my left.
He goes down immediately, his head hitting the matting and recoiling up once before settling on the soft floor. I take a step back as the crowd counts down from ten, stuck between saying the numbers and chanting my stupid nickname.
“Angel!” they roar, and I hear every syllable, raising my hands.
I barely worked up a sweat.
Giving Cobb a smug look, I see him beaming back at me. My joy of victory is immediately marred by that. Fuck him. Every win I get, it only adds to the pile of money he’s making. That’s the worst part about this. I don’t want to give that man a fucking thing, other than maybe a decent concussion.
But my stormy gaze travels
Good.
Keeping my cock from throbbing in the compression shorts is a battle of its own. I admire that girl, keeping her head up after everything that’s happened to her, but I can’t help but remember how soft and lovely she was in my hands. And my cock can’t either, apparently.
I’m not going to lie, I’ve been using the image I had painted of her in my head as the one and only source to get me off ever since we first met. Seeing the real thing again is so much better, though.
You’ll be mine, sugar.
It’s as much a threat at the establishment we’ve gotten stuck in as it is a promise.
I tear my eyes away from her – it takes far too much fucking work, what with her lush lips, long tresses and that constant blush on her cheeks – and focus. Even the shittiest fighter can catch you unawares if you’re not careful and this time, I’m not just fighting for myself.
“Gentlemen,” Joe starts, and the crowd roars with laughter – other than the people upstairs, there isn’t a single man here who would answer to that particular call. “Are you ready?”
I nod shortly and Billy does the same. We meet in the middle of the cage and touch our knuckles together. I give the kid an easy smile which he doesn’t return. His cheek is twitching and I can see it carry over to his forehead as well. Boy’s fucked up on something.
Almost a shame to take him out in this state. But whatever, the best man has to win and I’ve decided that man to be me today.
“Fight!” Joe hollers, already safely out of the cage, the doors locked and the barbed wire nice and sharp, waiting for someone to be thrown into it.
I dance left and right, warming up my feet some more. I steal a look at Adrienne and she’s practically gnawing on her fingers. Damn, she looks cute when she’s nervous. Shaking my head, I look at Billy, catching him in his first charge. Though Joe called me the bull, right now I feel more like the red flag, though there are more popped vessels in Billy’s eyes than I care count as he comes at me, arms swinging.
I duck under the first punch and return one right in the solar plexus. As he keels back slightly, I knock him in the jaw from below, sending him staggering back. The crowd is already jeering and booing, trying to get Billy to ‘man up’. I know there’s a hell of a lot of money being bet in this room right now, both of me winning and losing, and the latter side doesn’t want to see me doing well or Billy going down like a felled tree.
I’m going to have to disappoint them though.
Billy shakes his head and I see sweat and saliva flying already, along with a couple droplets of blood. This stuff has always been fun for me, like stealing candy from a baby. I grin at him, motioning with my hand to come at me. He takes the bait, hook, line and sinker.
He comes at me almost blindly, swinging, and I sidestep him with trained ease. I spin back at lightning speeds and catch him in the back, shoving him with my foot to add insult to injury. He slams into the fencing and bounces back, howling with rage. The next time he comes for me, I time the hit perfectly between his frantic blows, catching him in the right cheekbone with my left.
He goes down immediately, his head hitting the matting and recoiling up once before settling on the soft floor. I take a step back as the crowd counts down from ten, stuck between saying the numbers and chanting my stupid nickname.
“Angel!” they roar, and I hear every syllable, raising my hands.
I barely worked up a sweat.
Giving Cobb a smug look, I see him beaming back at me. My joy of victory is immediately marred by that. Fuck him. Every win I get, it only adds to the pile of money he’s making. That’s the worst part about this. I don’t want to give that man a fucking thing, other than maybe a decent concussion.
But my stormy gaze travels
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