Read Online Savage Things (Chaos & Ruin Book 2) by Callie Hart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Callie Hart
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But when you say that shit instead, there’s no way I can leave.”
He’s fucking ridiculous. He makes no sense half the fucking time. I punch him in the gut, hard enough that he doubles over, groaning melodramatically. “If you want me to suck your dick, man, it ain’t gonna happen,” I tell him.
Ben howls with laughter. “I already told you, my dick’s chaffed right now. Maybe after I beat Rayne I’ll hit you up for some victory head, though.”
Chapter Seven
MASON
I win my fight, but not without getting my bell rung pretty hard. The guy I’m matched against is a seasoned vet, and I make the mistake of believing he’s flagging in the third round. I get cocky in the fourth, dropping my guard to showcase a little, trying to rile up the crowd some, and that’s when the bastard smashes his fist into the side of my head, right where my jaw bone connects with my skull. They call that the button. The off switch. Get hit hard enough right there and it’s lights out, motherfucker. Thankfully I manage to feint to the left a little, which lessens his blow, otherwise I’d be counting stars and my ass would be hitting the canvas. I stagger back, slamming into the chain link of the cage, and my head starts swimming.
I needed the reality check. I needed to feel the panic that comes with the realization that I might actually lose this fight. It spurs me on, fills me with the anger I need to come back swinging. I take the fucker out at the end of the round, sending him crashing to the ground like falling timber. Most of the time, practiced fighters are on the look out for pile-driver hooks and uppercuts from new guys like me, but they’re not as prepared for back kicks and roundhouses. The crowd screams in disbelief as I plant my foot, pivot and land a powerful kick to the side of his head, knocking him clean out, and that’s it. That’s all she wrote.
Predictably, Ben gets his ass handed to him in the first round. The crowd loves seeing him sail through the air, falling like a bundle of limp, wet rags onto the canvas as his lights go out. Rayne’s a decent sportsman, crouching down beside Ben and waiting until he regains consciousness before he gets up to celebrate, fist pumping and hollering at the masses of people packed around the cage, who chant his name and rattling the chain link, going wild.
I catch the flash of white-blonde hair by the entrance to the cage and I do my best to get the fuck out of there before the owner of the unmistakable pixie cut catches me, but I’m not quick enough. The crowds move out of the way as hurriedly as they can for me, bodies jostling against bodies, people standing on one another’s feet as I slip through them, but they magically part for Kaya Rayne like she’s the queen of fucking Sheba. Her hand is on my shoulder before I can get halfway to the exit.
“Smooth,” she purrs. “And here I was, thinking we were friends.”
I turn and there she stands—perfectly formed, pocketsize Kaya, with her rosebud mouth and devilish twinkle in her pale blue eyes. Damn. I’ve been hiding from her for weeks like a goddamn coward. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s smoking hot. As far as I can tell, she’s very interested in seeing me naked, which is awesome because I find myself imagining what her nipples look like, how they’d feel in my mouth, at least three or four times a day. Don’t get me started on how much time I spend thinking about her pussy. I should be giving her exactly what she wants: my dick. And yet I can’t. It wouldn’t be even close to fair. My life is a fucking circus right now. To drag her into it would be shitty beyond measure.
“Hey. What’s up?” I rub the back of my neck, scanning the sea of people pressing in around us, trying to see Ben. If I can find him, I’ll be able to use him as an excuse—the old, I-gotta-go-take-care-of-my-friend bit. Kaya seems to have other ideas, though.
“Hmm. What’s up? Well, lately I’ve
He’s fucking ridiculous. He makes no sense half the fucking time. I punch him in the gut, hard enough that he doubles over, groaning melodramatically. “If you want me to suck your dick, man, it ain’t gonna happen,” I tell him.
Ben howls with laughter. “I already told you, my dick’s chaffed right now. Maybe after I beat Rayne I’ll hit you up for some victory head, though.”
Chapter Seven
MASON
I win my fight, but not without getting my bell rung pretty hard. The guy I’m matched against is a seasoned vet, and I make the mistake of believing he’s flagging in the third round. I get cocky in the fourth, dropping my guard to showcase a little, trying to rile up the crowd some, and that’s when the bastard smashes his fist into the side of my head, right where my jaw bone connects with my skull. They call that the button. The off switch. Get hit hard enough right there and it’s lights out, motherfucker. Thankfully I manage to feint to the left a little, which lessens his blow, otherwise I’d be counting stars and my ass would be hitting the canvas. I stagger back, slamming into the chain link of the cage, and my head starts swimming.
I needed the reality check. I needed to feel the panic that comes with the realization that I might actually lose this fight. It spurs me on, fills me with the anger I need to come back swinging. I take the fucker out at the end of the round, sending him crashing to the ground like falling timber. Most of the time, practiced fighters are on the look out for pile-driver hooks and uppercuts from new guys like me, but they’re not as prepared for back kicks and roundhouses. The crowd screams in disbelief as I plant my foot, pivot and land a powerful kick to the side of his head, knocking him clean out, and that’s it. That’s all she wrote.
Predictably, Ben gets his ass handed to him in the first round. The crowd loves seeing him sail through the air, falling like a bundle of limp, wet rags onto the canvas as his lights go out. Rayne’s a decent sportsman, crouching down beside Ben and waiting until he regains consciousness before he gets up to celebrate, fist pumping and hollering at the masses of people packed around the cage, who chant his name and rattling the chain link, going wild.
I catch the flash of white-blonde hair by the entrance to the cage and I do my best to get the fuck out of there before the owner of the unmistakable pixie cut catches me, but I’m not quick enough. The crowds move out of the way as hurriedly as they can for me, bodies jostling against bodies, people standing on one another’s feet as I slip through them, but they magically part for Kaya Rayne like she’s the queen of fucking Sheba. Her hand is on my shoulder before I can get halfway to the exit.
“Smooth,” she purrs. “And here I was, thinking we were friends.”
I turn and there she stands—perfectly formed, pocketsize Kaya, with her rosebud mouth and devilish twinkle in her pale blue eyes. Damn. I’ve been hiding from her for weeks like a goddamn coward. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s smoking hot. As far as I can tell, she’s very interested in seeing me naked, which is awesome because I find myself imagining what her nipples look like, how they’d feel in my mouth, at least three or four times a day. Don’t get me started on how much time I spend thinking about her pussy. I should be giving her exactly what she wants: my dick. And yet I can’t. It wouldn’t be even close to fair. My life is a fucking circus right now. To drag her into it would be shitty beyond measure.
“Hey. What’s up?” I rub the back of my neck, scanning the sea of people pressing in around us, trying to see Ben. If I can find him, I’ll be able to use him as an excuse—the old, I-gotta-go-take-care-of-my-friend bit. Kaya seems to have other ideas, though.
“Hmm. What’s up? Well, lately I’ve
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