With an uncharacteristic high-pitched screech, Fiasco abruptly surges forward away from the cage wall, leaps into the air with me still clinging to his back, and spins around to crash down onto the wooden floor of the cage. When his body weight slams down on me, I almost lose my grip; but when he begins speaking, my fury redoubles and I feel my strength returning.
“You want to fight like a cheap little-bitch?” Fiasco huffs as he squirms on top of me. He begins trying to throw his elbows back into my stomach, but he’s so wide compared to me that he can only graze me. “I’m going to pound you into this floor, then I’m going to go pound Naomi into your bed. You hear me, Malcolm? I love you, prez, but I’m going to put you down!”
I force my arm over his mouth and chin, which he is still tucking down as hard as his iron-neck muscles will allow. “You will never touch Naomi,” I hiss into his ear. “You will never look at Naomi,” I continue, as I use my free hand to punch him in the eye. “You’re never even going to smell Naomi,” I roar.
“Goddamned dirty mother….” Fiasco manages to choke out as I jam my forearm across his neck. As soon as my arm is in position, I use my free hand to lock my grip across his neck.
Fiasco bucks and thrashes on top of me like a shark hauled out of the ocean. I take a deep breath and hold on for all I am worth, knowing that if he breaks free, and if the crowd judges this fight…I’m going to lose. My only chance is to put my old friend down for a nap. And unless I can knock him unconscious, he will take Naomi away.
“You…won’t…have…her!” I roar as the thought sends a final surge of strength through my body. Fiasco’s thrashing slows, but my words must inspire something within him as well, because he suddenly rolls to his side and begins forcing himself up onto his hands and knees while I’m still clinging onto him, throwing all my weight into strangling him.
My face is pressed into Fiasco’s shoulder, and I can see that his face has turned an inhuman shade of purple, his tongue actually gagging out of his wide-open mouth. I can also see him curl his huge fist up, and I have no defense as it rises once more towards my uncovered face, attempting to hammer me off of his back. I close my eyes to brace myself for the impact.
Chapter Fourteen
Naomi
* * *
As soon as I hear the rumble of Malcolm’s bike, I roll over in his bed and put my back to the door, pretending to be asleep.
I started to go home to sleep in my own bed, but the truth was, I wanted to know who won tonight. Besides, Malcolm and I made a deal, one I plan to keep. I’m trying really hard to trust him, even if he is a dick for putting me in this position.
True, I guess it’s my own fault for putting myself in this position, stealing from my father and getting caught stealing from the MC to pay him back.
I hear the front door open and close, then the sound of heavy footsteps growing louder on the hardwood floor as he stomps toward the bedroom. His feet stop abruptly before resuming their course toward the bed.
“Wake up, honey,” Malcolm’s gruff voice says in the darkness before he turns a lamp on. “Time to go to Fiasco’s…”
“What?” I exclaim when I shoot straight up in bed to look at him. “You lost?”
“Of course not,” he says as he removes his jeans, his shirt already missing. And in the glow of the light, I can see cuts and bruises scattered over his flesh and his face…wow, his handsome face has seen better days. Despite the swelling, his lips are lifted in a grin. He peels the covers back and then lies down in his bed beside me naked. “I choked the shit out of that big bastard and forced him to tap out. Now, how about you climb on top of me and ride my dick to thank me for winning. Let’s see if you can make me tap out on that ass.”
A scoff leaves my lips. “Go fuck yourself, Malcolm.”
When I lay my head back down on the pillow, I roll to my side away from him.
“Come on, honey, don’t be that way,” he says with his rough, smoker’s chuckle. Moving toward me underneath the covers, he presses the front of his body to my backside. Then, he not so subtly reaches around to slide his fingers down into the front of my panties that I’m wearing with just one of his t-shirts.
“I was never going to lose,” he says. “I just needed to let off a little steam, put the fucker in his place. Fiasco’s a decent fighter, just not as good as I am.”
If his words are supposed to make me feel better, they don’t. Now it sounds like he offered me up in a fight just for shits and giggles.
Malcolm lowers my panties in the back, and then I feel his dick poking me in my ass cheeks, right down the center of my crease. He rubs his hard shaft through my damp folds, my body turned on even if I’m still pissed at him.
“You didn’t miss me today?” he asks.
“No.”
“Not even a little?” On the word little, he eases his blunt head inside of my cunt and pulls it right back out.
“No,” I lie as I grab a fistful of sheets.
“Well, I missed you and this pussy,” Malcolm tells me, his lips finding the skin around the opening of my shirt collar. “Every time my fist landed, it was for this pussy.” He eases his dick inside again and retreats. “And for these tits.” Malcolm reaches around and squeezes a handful, making my entrance weep even more for him, allowing him to enter her a few more inches. Malcolm’s deep masculine grunt of pleasure against my ear sends a wave of heat through my body, turning my limbs to liquid.
“That’s it. Just relax and let me have you. I promise it’ll feel good,” he whispers. “You know you want it.”
With another scoff at his arrogance, I try to squirm away from him, but Malcolm doesn’t let me. He rolls me over, pinning my back to the mattress, his face hovering right above mine.
“What’s the problem, honey? I felt how much you want me, so why the hell are you playing hard to get?”
“I’m mad at you, Malcolm! What you did…it was really fucked up. You treated me like-like I’m an object you can just throw away!”
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking pretty pitiful and sincere thanks to the darkening bruise around his eye. “From your point of view, I guess what I did looks bad, but there was never a chance I wouldn’t win. I knew that, or I wouldn’t have challenged him in the first fucking place. And just so you know, the alternative to fighting him was to have him bring a vote to the table that they should all get to have a turn with you since you stole from the entire club. That wasn’t going to fucking happen, so I had to give him something to shut him up.”
“You could’ve at least talked to me about it first!” Since there’s enough room between us for me to roll over again, I do it so that I don’t have to look at the swelling in his face or his piercing green eyes that always seem to make my heart race and my body melt, even when I’m pissed at him.
“So that’s how it’s going to be? You’re not going to talk to me or let me fuck you?” he asks. I don’t respond since the answer should be pretty damn clear. “That’s too bad. I bought you a little something before my fight. Don’t you want to see it?”