Submission Specialist: A Bad Boy Romance (Still a Bad Boy Book 2) (3 page)

Austin

After a morning spent focusing on leg locks with my Sambo coach, Ross had me working on conditioning in the afternoon.  In about half an hour, I’d be beyond words, but for now he seemed happy to talk my ear off.

At each end of the room were heavy punching bags hanging from the ceiling, newly printed with a picture of so-called number one contender Ernesto Sanchez.  The idea was that I had to run across the room every time the speakers played the beeping sound, and do five roundhouse kicks to the bag before the speakers beeped again, and I ran to the other side to do the same, alternating kicking legs.

As time wore on, the beeps would get closer together until I was unable to complete the set of kicks before the next one.  I was always pretty much fucked by the end of it, but I’d never had more motivation than today.  I might make it an hour this afternoon.

“I can’t wait to hear you complimenting Ernesto’s skills, Mr. Nice Guy,” said Ross.

Beep

“Yeah, that killer nickname was getting old anyway, huh?”

He laughed.  “Yeah, Austin ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ Aquila, I like that.”

“I’ll tuck a flower behind his ear after the fight, before he wakes up, he’ll like that.”

My coach laughed again as I delivered some brutal kicks to Ernesto’s likeness.  Ross was the first person I met that I ever lost a fight to.  Of course, I was only fourteen at the time, but for that alone I had a begrudging respect for him.  Especially since I’d been trying to rob him that night.

Beep

Ever since I was around ten years old I’d been spending more and more time living on the streets, because it was a fuckload safer out there than at home.  My adopted parents were real pieces of work.

Dear old Dad was a low-level criminal, and whatever Mom might have been had been knocked out of her long before I could remember.  Whether he was beating her or me, my earliest memories were of screaming and the smell of booze and cigarettes.

Fuck I
hated
him.  There aren’t any words to describe this kind of ticking time bomb that gets built inside of you when you get hurt every day and can’t do a motherfucking thing about it.

I remembered the first time I was away all night, before I was even eleven.  They didn’t seem to notice I’d even been gone.  It was par for the course.

The more time I spent away, the less it felt like home.  Eating food there felt like stealing, so I figured I might as well just steal from somewhere else so I wouldn’t have to go back to their house as much.

That’s how I met Ross.

Beep

If I had learned anything about robbery in school, they probably would have taught me to make sure my target didn’t own an MMA gym.  I licked my wounds under a bridge that night, and tracked him down the next day, narrowly avoiding another ass kicking. Instead I ended up with somebody willing to teach me some proper technique, rather than relying purely on my natural size, strength and speed.

After I’d been training with Ross for a while, I was ready to go back “home” and see my dad one last time.  Ready for…

Beep

“You gonna carry Ariana over the threshold like a real gentleman?” asked Ross.

“Yeah, on my dick.”

“Ataboy.”

To tell the truth, I’d been having second thoughts about that.  Ariana was a fine,
fine
, piece of ass, no doubt, but was it her who’d been on my mind?  It was not.

Skylar from the Tier-2 Sports Therapy team, the one stolen from the very tip of my cock, she was the one I most wanted to fuck right now.  I mean marry.

She seemed just as desperate to keep her job as she was her virginity too.  I bet I could get Ian, or the new employee of the month Robbie, to put some pressure on.  Take Ariana’s place or you’re out of a job, sweet thing.

Beep

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted her.  I’d never fucked a virgin before, but that didn’t mean I would hold back when I finally claimed her.  Oh no.  I’d make sure her first time
ruined
her for other men for the rest of her life.  I’d fuck Skylar
hard
.  Harder than I’d fuck Ariana, who was certainly no stranger to cock, just to make her scream my name.

Mmmmm.  Yeah.  That image was too perfect to deny.  Rough fuck the virgin bride.  I’d take that precious gift she’d been saving for somebody else her whole life, just because she couldn’t stop herself from spreading her legs for me.  Just because she saw me and
needed
cock.

She was waiting for her one true love?  Well love’s a bullshit fantasy, I’d learned that a long time ago.  The best thing she could do would be to worship my cock, and I’d fuck her bareback too. A girl’s first time should be natural, after all.

That moment after she came would be magic.  When her mind came out of the sex-insanity for a few seconds and fully comprehended what she’d done, she’d know that no other man could ever rail her the way I had.  She was
mine
forever.

Beep

Then she’d realize she was
full
of cum, and I was
still
fucking her, because I was going to go all damn night.  She might start to tell me to stop, but then she’d get a hint that the next orgasm might not be too far away… and she’d beg me,
beg me,
to keep going.  Rinse and repeat.  She’d be a cum-soaked wreck by the time I was done with her.

Ariana could wait her turn.  I was going to call Ian Ewert today and let him know that I would rather propose to Skylar What’s-Her-Name, from the Tier-2 team, and if he could make it clear that her job was on the line, then that would be great.

The young sports therapist was a better fit for the story they’d concocted anyway, since everybody with an internet connection had already seen Ariana’s pussy and read about what a kinky little fucker she was.  Skylar
oozed
innocence and the wholesome girl-next-door image.  She was perfect in every way.

I had to have her.

Beep

Skylar

Earlyish in the year, in my biomechanics class, we’d spent a few lectures studying a video clip of Austin applying an arm bar submission to Drake Chapman.  A few people already knew that I had a kind of internship with NHBFC, so people spent as much time asking me questions about what the fighters, especially Austin, were really like as they did asking the professor about the trauma happening inside Chapman’s arm.

It was the same after every NHBFC event, a flurry of questions asking me about which fighters I’d seen or even helped treat.  With Austin’s spectacular win, he was more of a talking point than normal, but I deflected those ones with the normally-true excuse of not being in the team that looked after him.

How could I explain to them that I met Austin, and what it was
like
to meet him, when I couldn’t even explain it to myself?  I saw him, and my body
ached
with need.  That was the simple blunt truth of the matter.

I’d been attracted to boys before, but the seeds of shame and confusion that my father had sown always blossomed straight away, and shut me down until the mere
hint
of interest in or from a guy had almost sent me into a panic attack.  Not so with Austin.

There was something about him that spoke in a language of dirty promises to the part of me that I kept in the locked box, and spoke so powerfully that there was no time for the humiliation and self-loathing I was so used to.  That’s not to say it didn’t hit me afterwards, because it did.  Harder than ever.

That’s why I was glad he was only around the New Ashby Event Center for the NHBFC events.  When they weren’t being held, there were a lot of smaller mixed martial arts tournaments, or even completely unrelated sporting events that NHBFC contracted their sports therapy team out to help support. So there was still plenty of work for me to fit around my classes.

I’d been working there for over a year, and had only come face to face with Austin once.  Even that was only due to special circumstances that I had to agree to, so he
could
be avoided.  That, in turn, would help me avoid those voices in my head, some of which sounded a lot like my dad.

You know what kind of girls run around with boys?  Whores.  The stupider and uglier they are, the cheaper they are, too.  If I ever catch you… girl, I’ll know you’re the cheapest one of them all, and I swear you won’t sit down for a week…

I’d heard it so much that I believed it.  I may not have been a supermodel rocket scientist, but I could stay away from the boys at least.  Anything for the hope of some peace at home.  Anything to not hate myself.

Today there was a local Brazilian Jiu Jitsu tournament being held at the event center.  After an interesting morning working with a kid who had refused to tap out to an
omoplata
submission, I was again relegated to the more common task of restocking the various supplies needed by the more experienced members of the team.

Then Gordon tracked me down and sent chills of fear down my spine.

“Hey Skylar, I just got a call from somebody in management, they wanna see you.  Robbie Johnson, some new guy.  Is there something I should know about?”

Oh, please no!

Somehow, somebody knew about what had happened in Austin’s room.  They saw me go in, or worse, what if there were security cameras or something in the rooms, and they saw me just about to put my hand on his erection?

Everything I’d been working towards was about to go down the toilet.

My heart, especially mobile lately, settled down in the pit of my stomach and started the task of being digested.  I felt heavy as I rose to my feet in front of the supplies cupboard.

“Um… not that I can think of,” I said.

“Right.  Well, let me know afterwards.  I don’t want to be kept in the dark about what’s going on in my team.  He’s on the third floor, by the Media Relations department.  When you get up there, go ahead and ask somebody, they’ll be able to show you to his office.”

“Sure.”

If I’m still in your team.

I felt like I was digging my own grave when I finally found Mr. Johnson’s office and stood in his doorway.  He was still in the process of setting up his area.  With the open boxes everywhere and the pictures of comically dressed professional wrestlers on the walls, my feelings of dread almost seemed out of place.

“Mr. Johnson?”

“Ah, you must be Skylar?  Skylar Cross?” he asked, sounding like some old New York gangster.

“Yes, sir.”

“Take a seat.” He gestured at the only option, in front of his desk.

Picking my way around boxes and sporting memorabilia, I sat down and concentrated on holding back tears as I awaited my fate.  Mr. Johnson sat opposite me and shuffled through some of the papers on his desk.

“Here we are.  Skylar Cross, in the Tier-2 Sports Therapy team, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I was looking through your resume over here, and comparing it against the others in that team, as well as some of the torrent of applications we’ve had lately. And I couldn’t help but notice yours looked a little… short.”

He handed over a few pieces of paper, which I recognized as the token application I’d completed when Uncle Malcolm got me the job here.  Included was my resume, detailing my excellent work as a grocery store checkout operator and my ability to be a high school student.

“Is there perhaps a page or two missing?”

“No, sir.  My uncle helped me get a job here,” I said. “But I’m studying at UNA to get all the right qualifications.” I rushed to add.

Mr. Johnson laced his fingers together on top of his desk.  “But you don’t have said qualifications as of right now?”

“No.”

“Hmmm.  It’s an unfortunate situation we’re in, Skylar.  There are a lot of really bright kids out there that would give their right arm to work with NHBFC, you know.  Fresh out of college, crushing student debt.  Fully qualified and licensed.  You can see how it’s not fair for them, if we were to keep you on and leave a better qualified candidate out in the cold, right?”

Every breath I took started to hitch as I fought off the onset of sobbing like a baby.  I was going to lose the battle against the tears.  I was going to lose this battle with life.  After an all too brief escape, I could already picture going back home to Brookmere and my dad.  It would be years before I could save up enough money to continue my studies.  Before I could think about being happy.

“But… but please!  I w-work really hard, everybody says so!  A-ask G-Gordon, I pick things up really fast, I’m never late, never s-sick.  I need this… I… I can work for a little less pay, I-”

“And then I understand there’s an issue of a company policy breach between yourself and Austin Aquila,” Mr. Johnson interrupted.

There it was, the one-two punch knockout.  I blushed, in addition to all my other problems.  Now word would spread around everywhere that I was exactly what my dad always said I was.  I didn’t even
do
anything!  It wasn’t fair!

Robbie Johnson sat back in his chair and let me stew in my humiliation for somewhere close to forever before he spoke again.  The next word out of his mouth was totally unexpected.

“However,” he began, “we’re trying something new here at NHBFC, something you can actually help us with.”

“W-what is it?”

Mr. Johnson ignored my question for the time being. “This is a project that would move quite quickly, you’d begin next week, and we expect it would last for a few months.  You’d receive a five thousand dollar bonus on top of your regular wages.”

My eyes went wide. I could really stay? And five thousand dollars?  That would take so much pressure off the rent and tuition fees.  My heart beat with wild hope.

“Yes, I’ll do it!  What is it?”

Robbie Johnson looked like a fisherman with his hook in deep.  “You don’t
have
to, of course… but then.” He gestured at the papers in my hand and shrugged.  “We’ve got a lot of people who want in on this project… but when Austin asked for you
specifically
?  Forget about it.”

My brow furrowed at the same time as my heart leapt at the notion that Austin even remembered me.  What on Earth was this project?