The F King: A Bad Boy Romance (Still a Bad Boy Book 3) (18 page)

C
runch
!

I was about ten minutes into my break, and the apple was going down
good
, when Gordon’s head popped in the door. He looked desperate.

“Hey, sorry about this, but can you take care of something for me?”

I swallowed the mouthful of apple and bolted to my feet. “Yes! What can I do?”

“Team one is down a lot of people with the flu that’s going around, they need somebody to help out. Henry said Aquila needs a massage.”

When the name came out of his mouth, it was like somebody with a tiny defibrillator zapped me on my spine, and I startled before my heart started thundering in response.

“A… a mas… me?”

“Yeah, sorry about this, there’s just nobody else I can spare. He’s not injured or anything, just needs to work out some kinks before the post-event press conference. Can you head over now? Tell them I sent you.”

“I… well… of c-course, I’ll do my best,” I said.

“Thanks for that.” Gordon was gone before he had even finished the sentence.

I felt like I was sitting inside my own head watching a movie play out as I dropped the remains of my apple in the trash and headed towards the Tier-1 fighters’ area. Uncle Malcolm wasn’t here to show me what to do. All I had was less than a year of study and a general appreciation of massages to rely on. It would have to do.

The Tier-1 wing had a guard at the door who looked mean enough to actually fight for NHBFC, but he let me through when he saw my uniform and heard that Gordon had sent me at Henry’s request. The hallway behind said door was just as chaotic as the ones I’d just left, but for a completely different reason.

With a smaller group of fighters to look after, and an already smaller staff diminished by illness, it was the MMA groupies making the most noise over here. Clusters of some of the most stunning girls currently in the city hovered around their favorite fighters’ doors, giggling and talking loudly. It wasn’t official of course, but the guard knew only to let in the best of the best.

The intensity of their beauty only served to make me feel self-conscious, as I awkwardly nudged my way through them to Austin’s door. Most of them were taller than me and the tops they wore made absolutely sure to show off their breasts, at my eye-level, to maximum effect.

They made me feel like a potato in a diamond display case as I sheepishly knocked on the door. A few moments later an older guy, Austin’s coach, snatched the door open.

“I told you bitches he isn’t ready yet!”

“Uh, Gordon sent me? Henry said you-”

“Oh, right, yeah. He’s just in the shower-”

The groupies in earshot all squealed and started talking at once.

“You come in, he’ll be ready in a second, I’m stepping out. Lock it behind you. Which of you girls wants to do me a special favor so I put a good word in for you with The Killer?”

I squeezed past him as a chorus of “I do!” “I will” rang out behind me. One of them said “How come the cleaning lady gets to go in?” Another said, “I’ll deepthroat your-” just as the door clicked shut.

Stepping into a Tier-1 dressing room after working on the other side for so long was like stepping into first-class on an airplane after only ever flying coach. They had all the same stuff that we had, but instead of bare concrete, there was actual paint on the walls, a permanent massage table, a brand new heavy punching bag hung from the ceiling on a chain. Plenty of bells and whistles.

Steam poured out of a cracked-open door and I could hear a shower running. I walked over and paused by the door, before knocking even more tentatively than I had on the other one.

“Austin? I’m here for the-”

“I told Ross to tell you I wasn’t ready!” he yelled out.

“Uh… no I’m not… uh… I work here? Henry said you needed a massage?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll be right out.”

The sound of running water stopped and I caught a flash of movement in the steamed-up mirror through the opening. Quickly, I turned and faced the other way, ashamed at the flush of excitement that came unbidden and made me bite my bottom lip without thinking about it.

After a couple minutes I felt the waft of air as the door was pulled open behind me, and turned to face him. Standing there, wearing only a towel, with beads of water dripping down his neck and torso from his hair, was fan (and my) favorite, Austin “The Killer” Aquila.

That perfectly sculpted body looked like it was made from granite by an artist with an eye for sin, then decorated with ink in designs that curled all over. His thick arms had contours that drew my eyes up to his broad shoulders, and then sent them down across his pecs and over each and every bump of his abs.

His lower abdominals formed lines that narrowed as my eyes roamed lower… lower… lower until the visual ride was abruptly cut off by the towel, which he held up by one hand.

I looked up and heard my jaw click shut when our eyes met. I only hoped I’d closed my mouth before I drooled. If I was looking at him like a piece of art, he was looking at me like a piece of food, and it took all my willpower not to find a plate to climb on to.

All heavyweights have a certain presence. It would be hard not to when you’re a tank that has briefly assumed human form, but Austin had
presence
that almost seemed to make the air crackle between us and around him. His
eyes
, they were looking at me in a way that would give my dad a stroke. That brought me partway back to reality.

“Um… over there?” I pointed at the massage table.

“You sure you work here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I… I normally work in Tier-2…”

Austin closed the distance between us and leaned down towards me. My heart tried to jump up my throat to get a better view out my mouth at all that solid muscle
so close
to me, and my ability to breathe be damned.

“Because, if you’re another girl that stole a uniform just to get in here… well, I’ll have to do to you what I did to her.”

A drop of water fell from his head and landed on my ear, making me flinch. The scent of soap and the faint musk of
him
filled my lungs as I took a deep breath to offer whatever reassurance I could.

“I promise I work here,” I squeaked.

I’d been around men before, I’d seen Austin on TV before, but I’d never felt anything like
this
. I’d always been able to keep what my father called my evil nature shut up in a box, but something about this was different.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, that presence I felt. Maybe it was the fact that he was the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on and he was only wearing a towel.

Whatever it was, that part of me had kicked a hole in the side of its box and was yelling at me to reach out and run my hands all
over
that perfection. I gulped, because that’s exactly what I was supposed to do, in my professional capacity.

“Hmmm. Too bad. All those rules, huh?” he said.

No doubt he was talking about the rules concerning no sleeping with the fighters. I got that talk during my induction right after the fire safety lecture. Despite that, if rumors were true, then Austin had taken liberties with more than one ring girl in his time with the NHBFC.

The tattooed fighter walked over to the massage table and climbed on, leaving me in a daze for a few seconds before I followed. There was a fully-stocked basket of massage oils on a shelf underneath, and I pulled one out at random while he settled himself in.

I poured a little on to one palm and rubbed my hands together to warm everything up. That was lesson one in the massage course I took earlier in the year, and although there hadn’t been anything in that lesson about chanting “professional, professional, professional” in your mind, I did that for a moment too, before I touched him.

Even his back was roped with well-defined muscles and tattoos, enough to make a girl blush. In my course, we’d always had same-sex massage partners. Michelle, the girl in my class, felt
nothing
like this.

There was just so much of him to touch.

You mean apply therapeutic massage techniques to,
my conscience chided me.
Yes, that.

I had to get more oil to get enough coverage on that broad back, but once everything was sliding nicely, I lost myself in the thoughts that forced their way into my mind. Honestly, I could have happily done this for
hours
, without a care in the world, until I felt something I shouldn’t have felt while on the job.

Between my legs. What was
that
? Oh
no
! I was absolutely, undeniably,
wet
. I glanced around nervously, as if Gordon might be there with my final paycheck in his hand, but there was nobody else in the room.

Maybe Austin felt me lose my rhythm, because he chose that exact moment to make my predicament even worse.

“Hop on. Straddle me. You’re not getting enough pressure on from the side.”

“Um… I’ll j-just try harder, sorry.”

The prizefighter, who had all his professional wins so far via submission, lifted his head and looked at me with unbendable will in his eyes. “You
sure
you work here? I
said
hop on.”

“OK, sorry. Please don’t say anything, I need this job. I… I didn’t know how things were done over on this side.”

Austin rested his head down again, and I climbed up as carefully as if I was crawling on paper-thin ice. Positioning myself over him, I set one knee down on either side of his hips.

He was right, I was definitely able to apply more pressure this way, but I couldn’t say much for my technique anymore, because all I could think about was how there was two-hundred and thirty pounds of world-class athlete between my legs.

As I did the best job I could, sparing some attention for his shoulders and upper arms, I noticed him slowly moving his feet apart. This made my kneeling stance wider, and brought my most private place closer to resting on him.

My body was rebelling. That was the only explanation for it. Years of pent-up frustration was threatening to burst through the dam, and that ever-increasing slickness between my legs was the evidence.

Every time I moved, my panties shifted and rubbed faintly against my clit, sending tingles quietly echoing around my body and settling in my belly. I had no idea how long I was supposed to massage him for, but if he made me keep doing this, I was almost certainly going to suffer the embarrassment of having an orgasm on top of him, and then lose my job.

That thought did its best to dampen the excitement that was coursing through me, and didn’t quite manage it. I could feel my jaw quivering as if I was cold, from the sheer effort it was taking to not subtly grind myself against him to relieve this insane
pressure
.

Please, let me get through this. Please let me keep my job. Please don’t make me go home to my dad.

If anybody was listening, it certainly wasn’t Austin. Instead of ending my torture, he shifted under me.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I moved myself as high on my knees as I could.

“Now the front,” he said.

“I- I don’t…”

I’d never massaged the
front
in my classes and I had no idea what you were supposed to do. Austin had some ideas though, and took hold of my wrists, placing my hands on his chest and making me lean forward.

My palms were still slick with the massage oil, and they slid across his taut skin easily as he slowly moved them downwards along the same trail my eyes had followed earlier. I felt every bump of his abs as my fingers paused in each crevice between those well-defined muscles before slipping to the next one.

Then I looked down further, where those converging lines of his lower abdominals were pointing, and somebody fired a butterfly cannon in my stomach. His towel had come untucked!

I could see bare skin from his stomach down to his thigh, with that one part of a man I was
especially
forbidden to think about barely hidden by the towel. It was making a huge bulge in that token cover, and it was
right under me!
I felt another flush, this one centered between my legs, making me feel
hot
down there. There was only one thing in the world that could quench that fire.

“Please,” I breathed, desperately wanting to let go for once, to give in. “Don’t make me…”

What? Don’t make me cum? Don’t make me lose my job? All of the above and more?

M
otherfucking jackpot
. There is nothing I like more than destroying some asshole who thought he was a tough guy and then sliding my cock into some tight wet pussy. Fucking and fighting was my bread and butter, and I
always
ate my fill.

Coming out of the shower to this chick was a breath of fresh air, after seeing the usual pop-star wannabe groupies already waiting outside my door when I came back after the fight. She forgot to introduce herself but the name on her, possibly stolen, name-badge said “Skylar” and she was fuckin’
smoking
hot.

Unlike the girls in the hallway, Skylar wasn’t wearing a lick of make-up as far as I could see, and she was still perfect in this cute girl-next-door kind of way. Every girl I fucked had their mind blown, but Skylar looked like she hadn’t been around the block too many times. She’d be certifiably insane by the time I was halfway done with her.

Her sleek blonde hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, showing off a face that was innocence personified, except for those pouty lips that looked like they were
made
to suck my cock. She had perfect skin and sparkly eyes wide with awe, taking in the view as I exited the bathroom in my towel.

Glancing down, I saw the promising swell of her chest that even the dull grey uniform couldn’t hide. I was going to make those tits
bounce
when I fucked her good and hard.

Best of all, she looked like she was doing her best to fight her attraction. Out there, in the cage, I broke arms and I broke men, but when it came to fucking it was always pure sexual ecstasy for me when the girls broke
themselves
.

I’d lost count of the women who knew me, knew my reputation, saw the tats and the physique and then caved and let me fuck them against their better judgement anyway. That embarrassed shame on their faces, when they had the hardest orgasm of their lives, was just as good as making grown men tap out in the ring. You could say that submission was my specialty in all facets of my life.

The corner of my mouth threatened to pull up in a smirk when I saw the purity ring on her finger. What a joke. Maybe that was the reason she was fighting herself so hard, but I’d never met a woman who could win this fight when I set my mind on her.

Damn, a sexy little virgin. This girl was too good a conquest to just bend over and fuck where she stood. I decided to prolong her internal battle and get that massage first.

Whenever I took my shirt off, women got this look on their faces. They tried to hide it from their husbands and boyfriends, if they were present. Skylar was trying to hide it even from herself, but there was no going back once they felt my body, once they got an idea about what an athlete like me could do to them.

So I climbed on that massage table, and soon enough her hands were sliding all over my back and arms. My eyes were closed, but I could imagine the look on her face. The desperation not to give in, the wonder of exploration, all mixed up with that pure innocence of hers.

I was already getting hard by the time I made her climb on top of me. She was doing a fine job from the side, but I wanted her to spread her legs for me even before it was time to fuck that virginity of hers into the history books.

After thousands of hours spent training in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, American Submission Wrestling and Russian Sambo, I had learned to be aware of every little movement and twitch when I was grappling with someone, and what they meant. It helped me read women without needing words.

The way Skylar’s legs were quivering, I could tell she was
seriously
wet for me already. All that energy she was spending trying to keep herself poised above me, trying to fight what she so desperately wanted, was going to make her that much sweeter a lay when my cock slid in.

Her hands felt great on my back and arms, but they’d feel even better when they were jerking my thick shaft. Thinking about her on her knees, with her little hands trying to grip as far around my cock as they could, that look of worship on her face, would be perfect.

I turned over. It was time to get this show on the road.

“What are you doing?” she asked, tensing up.

“Now the front.”

“I- I don’t… “

I grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands to my chest, feeling a weak tug of token resistance before she lost herself in the sensations. Down, down, down, I moved her, watching as every bump of muscle pushed her closer to some mental edge.

Damned if this girl didn’t look like she was on the verge of cumming already, and I hadn’t even laid a finger on her or tasted that sweet virgin pussy of hers. Almost there, a few more inches and I’d slide her hand under the towel and put it on my hard cock.

Looking down, slightly beyond the glint of her purity ring, I could see a little wet patch between her legs. Oh fuck yeah, this spinner was primed and ready to go.

Right then I heard keys rattling in the door, and then a knock rang out before it opened a crack. My manager and head coach, Ross, called in without sticking his head through.

“You done in there?”

“No, fuck off!”

“Fuck you, kid, it’s time for the press conference. Put it away, get dressed and get out here.”

What the hell? How long had I let Skylar rub me down for? I let go of her wrists and she snatched her hands back as if coming out of a trance, scampering off me and back to the floor.

“Alright, I’ll be out in a second,” I called out.

Ordinarily, for a sexy little fucktoy like Skylar, I wouldn’t tolerate any interruptions, but post-event press conferences were a compulsory part of my contract with NHBFC, so I had to go. It wasn’t about the money. They had something else I wanted, which was access to the best fighters in the world for me to fuck up, and that was worth a lot more to me in the long run.

They could pay me nothing, and I could still make millions a year from the occasional fight I threw at the request of the mafia. Ross had dirty hands since the day I met him, fixing fights even before my professional days. The Bertolini Crime Family had been a major cash cow for us since I went pro, plus throwing a fight here and there gave some morons in the weight class the misplaced hope that they could beat me, so the fights kept coming.

I gathered the towel around me and swung my feet to the ground, seeing Skylar’s eyes duck away to deprive herself of a glimpse of my cock. Such a shame I wasn’t going to bury it in her tonight.

“I gotta go. You can let yourself out when you’re ready.”

“Um…”

I walked to the bathroom, where my clothes were hanging on the back of the door. Before I was fully dressed, I heard the main door open and close. Sure enough, she was gone by the time I emerged.

Now that I knew she was here though, being the first man to claim her pussy was on my list of things to do. Skylar. I’d remember that name.