“Okay,” I whisper, torn between excitement and a niggle of concern over my ability to handle him taking so much control.
Ray wraps his hand around mine, curving us both over his thick shaft, and strokes hard. The feel of him hot and throbbing in my palm sends spasms through my groin.
“Harder.” He barks his command as he squeezes my hand around his shaft, his tone so gruff and unfamiliar my heart skips a little beat. Is this the dark side of him he didn’t want me to see? The Ray who likes pain?
We stroke him together until his cock is rock hard, and then Ray releases my hand and I lean forward and take him into my mouth, my tongue stroking up and down his length, praying my inexperience doesn’t show. But whatever I’m doing must be right because he grips my hair and arches into me.
“That’s it. Take it all.”
His words make my clit tingle, and I take him deep, my cheeks sucking inward as I increase the pressure. Oh God. It’s so deliciously, illicitly dirty to be kneeling at Ray’s feet in the studio with his cock in my mouth, the wooden floor hard beneath my knees. How many times did I fantasize about doing something like this, never imagining for a second it would ever come true?
Wrapping one hand around the base of his shaft, I work it in counterpoint to my mouth. Ray’s breathing turns ragged and his erection thickens, becoming impossibly hard. I inhale his scent of soap and musky male, and try to focus on the slide of my lips over his smooth skin and not the ache at the juncture of my thighs.
“Touch yourself.” His rasped command is almost a relief. Without hesitation, I slide my hand between my legs and toy with my piercing.
“Fuck.” He wraps his hand around mine and squeezes, my grip on his cock at least twice as tight as before. Shocked at how hard he wants to be touched, I look up at him. Ray stares down at me, his fingers still in my hair. My breath catches at the raw hunger in his eyes—and something else, hiding in the shadows, feeding on his pain.
“Did I tell you to stop?”
Heat rushes between my legs, and I let out a moan as my clit pulses and throbs. God, I could come just from the filthy things he says.
“You like that.” He tugs my head back, forcing me to look up at him.
“Yes.”
“Good. ’Cause I’m gonna hold you still and fuck your pretty mouth, and you’re gonna dig your little claws into my thighs as hard as you can.”
“I can’t hurt you like that.”
“Pain pays for the pleasure.” He reaches down and pinches my nipple, finding my piercing through my clothes and pulling it so hard I gasp. “Pleasure me. Take me deep.”
And I do. I lean forward and take him in my mouth again, trying to relax my throat when he pushes in so far I gag. He pulls back just enough for me to recover, then holds my head still and plunges in again.
Pressure builds inside me, and I rock my hips frantically against my hand as he drives deep and withdraws, his thighs taut and quivering beneath my other palm.
Sweat beads on my forehead as I fight back the fear of losing control. This is what I fantasized about. Rough, not gentle. Used, not pampered. Dominated instead of dominating. I wanted the Predator—raw, wild, untamed. And now I have him.
“Do it,” he rasps, pressing my hand against his leg. “Now. Let me feel your claws, kitten.”
I grip his leg, digging my nails into his skin. This is as much pain as I can give, and even this is too much for me.
Ray’s entire body goes rigid and the sound that comes from his chest is at once a growl and a groan. His hand tightens on my hair so hard, my eyes water, and his shaft thickens until it is a struggle to take him all.
“Sia.” He arches into my mouth, yanking me forward to meet his impatient thrusts. So rough. So dirty. So damn confusing. But I feel—every emotion, every sensation.
His cock swells; then he comes with a groan, driving so deep I gag as he spurts down my throat.
“Jesus. Fuck.” With a roar, he rips himself away, leaving me stunned and panting on the floor. And then I see the blood, four little crescents from my nails in his skin.
“Oh God. I hurt you. I’m so sorry. Let me wash it. I didn’t mean for it to go so far.”
“Neither did I.” His voice flattens. “That’s a side of me I didn’t mean to share.”
Fear and confusion give way to anger. Why doesn’t he want to share himself when he asks the same of me? “I know you like pain. I know you get off when I use the tattoo machine on you. It’s okay with me. Why don’t you want to share it?”
“Because when I’m around you, I lose control. I don’t know how far I’ll go.” He grabs his jeans and yanks them over his hips.
“I like who you are, Ray. I want to know about you and what you need.”
He pulls on his T-shirt, wincing slightly from the fresh tattoo. “I don’t want you to be part of my pain. I failed the people I cared about most, and I gotta live with that for the rest of my days. You’ve got your own demons to deal with. I won’t give you mine.”
Stunned speechless, I watch him turn and walk away.
Who is he? Gimme a name.
Priority: Confidential
Bay Area Underground Fight Club (BUFC) Fight Night
Abandoned Church. Fell and Fillmore. 8 p.m.
Headlining: Fuzzy vs. Renegade
Code Word: Styx
“What the hell is he thinking?” Heart pounding, I push myself out of my seat and slam the door to my Volvo, now parked outside Tag’s apartment building. On the other side of the vehicle, Jess does the same.
“He can’t fight anymore. His arm”—my voice catches, breaks—“and his shoulder. They never healed right. The doctor told him he couldn’t fight again.”
“We’ll talk him out of it.” Jess catches up with me on the walkway to Tag’s apartment and gives my arm a firm squeeze. “Or…you’ll talk him out of it and I’ll back you up.”
“Did he say anything to you about it when he went to your apartment the other night?” I press the buzzer for Tag’s apartment. “Did he say anything that would explain why he decided to challenge Renegade?”
Jess shakes her head. “It was just…strange. He came to my place, totally distraught, but he didn’t want to talk. I suggested we watch TV, so we sat on the couch for a few hours. Then he said he had to go. I got the feeling he wanted to say something and needed to work up the nerve, so when he called again the next day, I invited him over. But it was just more of the same. If you ask me, he needs some serious help.”
I press the buzzer again and again. “I think you’re right. He’s too deep into this case. He wouldn’t talk to me, so I called my parents, but they had no luck either.”
But Tag isn’t at his apartment or the gym, and he isn’t answering his phone. And by the time we get to the abandoned church for the fight, Tag is already in one corner and Jake a.k.a. Renegade is in the other.
For the first time, I don’t have the usual pang of longing when Jake rakes his hand through his blond curls. Instead, I imagine dark hair, thick and neatly cut and sky-blue eyes. And then I remember spending the last two nights at Jess’s place because I couldn’t bear to be in my apartment alone. Despite my best intentions, I got involved—so involved that the thought of never seeing Ray again is a physical, tangible pain that takes my breath away.
“Tag.” I race around to his side of the makeshift ring. “What are you doing? You know you can’t fight.”
A pained expression crosses his face. “I was meant to be a fighter, and I left it all behind seven years ago. I need to get back in the ring, do what I was meant to do. Who knows when I may need these skills again?”
What the hell is going on with him? This is what happens when I spend all my time obsessing over a mercurial fighter who easily walked away, and turn my back on the people who have always been there when I needed them the most.
“You have police skills. You have a gun. And I have no doubt you can defend yourself in a fight. Please don’t do this.” I reach up and grab his bicep. “You haven’t even trained properly. Renegade is near the top of the amateur league.”
“So was I.” He jerks out of my grasp. “And I will be again.”
But I can’t let this go. Nausea roils in my belly. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you. What do you need to prove? You aren’t acting like yourself. And Jess”—I look back over my shoulder at Jess standing in the spectator’s area with Rampage—“she’s worried about you.”
He swallows hard. “I have nothing to say to Jess. She’s with Blade Saw. I’m happy for them.”
“Why don’t we all go for a drink and talk?”
“Sia.” His voice rises to a loud bark and Jess looks over in alarm. “Go.”
“Let him fight.” Ray’s voice is a low murmur in my ear, his hand warm on my hip. “There’s nothing you can do to stop him.”
Still reeling from seeing Tag in the ring, I don’t question Ray’s sudden appearance at the fight. “You don’t understand. He’s injured.”
“Then he’ll know the extent of his injuries better than anyone.” He grabs my hand and tugs me away. “When a man decides to fight, he’s gonna fight. All you can do is be there for him at the end.”
Jerking out of his grasp, I give Tag one last pleading look, but when he shakes his head, I sigh and head back over to Jess with Ray on my heels.
“Where did you come from anyway?”
“Got the message about the fight. Knew you’d be here. Figured you wouldn’t be too happy.”
I edge away when we turn to watch the fight. I don’t want his hands on me. I don’t want to be tempted by his too-perfect body or the strength of his arms. I don’t want to think how he came here tonight for me even after he pushed me away.
The ref blows the whistle, and Tag opens with a low kick followed by a mid-level that throws him off balance. Renegade moves in fast with a hard left to Tag’s nose, and Tag topples backward. Renegade is on him before he even hits the mat, swarming him with punches. My stomach churns, and Ray leans over and murmurs in my ear.
“Renegade’s pulling his punches. Fuzz will be okay.”
“Doesn’t look like he’s pulling any punches to me.” I swallow as bile rises in my throat. “Tag’s lip is bleeding and Renegade’s not letting up—”
“If it were a real fight, he’d already be unconscious.”
“That doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.” I scrub my face with my hands and take a deep breath. But although I can block out the sights, I can’t block out the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, Tag’s grunts and groans, and then a howl.
“Oh God.” I rip my hands away. Tag is writhing on the mat, clutching his shoulder, his face contorted in pain.
Ray frowns. “Renegade was trying to put him in submission, helping him save face, but Tag twisted out of it. Was it a shoulder injury that did him in?”
“Yeah. A bad one. He fell out of a second-story window and broke his shoulder in three places. It wasn’t set properly and never really healed.”
An underground medic waves to Tag from outside the ropes, but he shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet. His left arm dangles by his side and his face is contorted in pain.
“I’m going to be sick,” Jess whispers.
“I’m going to kill him.”
Renegade speaks urgently to Tag. Clearly he wants Tag to tap out. But Tag refuses. Instead, he attacks, using his feet and his good arm. Renegade goes on the defensive, backing away.
“Fuck.” Ray swears through gritted teeth and mutters to himself. “C’mon, Fuzz, give in. He’s trying not to hurt you.”
But he doesn’t know Tag the way I do. Tag isn’t thinking anymore. He’s on autopilot and his goal is to take Renegade down. The last time I saw him like this was the night he injured his shoulder. And all because of me.
Finally Renegade has had enough. He sweeps Tag’s front leg and Tag goes down. But he can’t brace for the fall on his left side. He tries to recover and staggers back, then loses his balance. His head hits the post and he slumps to the ground.
“Tag.” I am running, pushing away the crowd, crawling through the ropes. I get to him at the same time as the medic. She gives him a quick check and whips out her phone. One of the organizers blows his whistle, calling for an emergency evac. The crowd scatters. Once the ambulance arrives, the police will follow, and no one wants to be caught at an unsanctioned fight.
Jess joins me beside Tag and then Renegade crouches down beside us. “I’m sorry. I tried to stop him. I thought he’d just go straight down. Stubborn ass just wouldn’t give up.”
“How could you?” I shove him in the shoulder, and he falls back. “You knew about his injury. You knew he hasn’t really fought in years. I thought you were his friend.” My anger comes out in a frenzy of fists, and then Ray is behind me, holding my arms, his voice a soothing rumble in my ear.
“Shhhhh. It’s not his fault. Fuzz challenged him. Renegade tried to set it up at Redemption, and Torment said no for all the reasons you spelled out.”
“Well, at least someone had sense.” I glare at Renegade, and he returns my glare with a pained expression.
“It was me or a stranger,” Renegade says. “And the reason I agreed is
because
I’m his friend. I knew I could control the fight. I could pull my punches. I could take him down when I saw he was going to get hurt. Any other fighter in this ring would have done him some serious damage. I tried to save him from himself.” He looks at Ray. “
We
tried to save him. It was Ray’s idea.”
“You knew about it beforehand?” I spin to face Ray.
“The promoters tell the fighters a day before the event, so they have time to prepare.” He strokes his hand down my hair, and I close my eyes and grit my teeth.
“You knew and you didn’t tell me?” I rip myself out of his arms and my hands clench into fists. “How could you not tell me? I could have talked him out of it.”
“We had it under control. I didn’t want you to worry.”
Turning away, I snort. “Yeah. This is having things under control. So much better than me convincing him not to come here in the first place. Thanks for that, guys.”
The ambulance arrives, and I ride with Tag while Jess follows behind in my car. Tag is whisked away once we hit the emergency room doors, and Jess and I sit together in the waiting room. My stomach churns at the familiar scent of antiseptic and I am assailed by memories of the night I sat here with Tag. The night I met Jess. I squeeze her hand when I see her bottom lip tremble. She has bad memories of this waiting room too.
A short while later, we are joined by Rampage, Blade Saw, Torment, and Ray.
“He’ll be okay,” I say to them when they settle themselves on the seats across from us, more to convince myself than anything else. “He’s knocked himself out twice before. Once when he was playing touch football, and then again when he fell out of a tree house when we were little. He has a hard head and no brains inside it to speak of.”
Jess manages a half smile. “Are you going to call your parents?”
“After they tell us he’s okay. I don’t want them to worry.”
A tear slides down her cheek. “It makes my heart hurt to think he wanted to fight so bad he’d take that risk.”
I nod, but my heart doesn’t just hurt; it feels shredded and torn. He’s here because of me. He left fighting because of me. He deserved justice too, but he gave it up because I asked him to do it.
Ray sits with the other fighters, but he doesn’t talk to them. Instead he watches me. Far from making me uncomfortable, his presence is soothing, and the fact he is here makes me confused all over again.
Tag regains consciousness after an hour. The doctor says he’ll be okay but because he has a concussion, he’ll have to stay in the hospital overnight. I call Mom and Dad and they freak, but not as badly as they would have if I’d called before he woke. I let Jess go in to see him first, and then the fighters who are chomping at the bit. Ray stays in the waiting room with me.
Blade Saw offers to take Jess home, and she gives me a farewell hug. She says Tag was happy to see her and asked her to come for the next Sunday dinner to distract Mom from harassing him about the fight.
After everyone leaves, I step into Tag’s room. He’s pale and clearly in pain, but his anger is still there.
“That was fucking humiliating. How am I going to teach now?” He shifts on the bed and winces.
“There weren’t that many people there. Mostly just the people who know you well.” I pause, wondering if this is really the best time to bring up his crazy behavior, and then I do. “Why did you do it?”
He hesitates, and then shrugs. “I wish we could live that night all over again. I wouldn’t take the easy road. I’d do everything I could to make that bastard rot in jail.”
My breath leaves me in a rush, and I sit on the chair beside Tag’s bed. “We didn’t take the easy road. At least, it wasn’t easy for me. But I don’t regret our decision to keep it quiet. Mom and Dad would never have recovered. They would have lost their house and their jobs, and who knows what would have happened to us? You remember all the threats and the bullying. Luke’s family has too much power.”
He scrubs his hand over his face and sighs. “I just can’t help thinking it’s dragging us down. We changed our lives, moved on, but it’s still there. He’s there. He took something from us that night. Maybe you would have wound up being a famous artist with shows all over the world. Maybe I would have become a pro fighter. We never had a chance to become who we were meant to be. Tonight, I thought I’d try and take it back. But it was too damn late.”
I’ve never heard Tag sound so defeated. He’s my rock. My fighter. My protector. My everything. Chest tight, I squeeze his hand. “Dad just texted. They’re just parking the car. I’m not up for seeing them, so I’m gonna take off. Do you want me to go by your apartment and pick anything up? I can come back later.”
“You can’t go to my apartment.” He cuts me off with a sharp tone. “I told you before.”
“But…”
“No.”
“Should I come back after Mom and Dad leave?”
He shakes his head. “I just want to be alone.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Tag nods and I make it out the door and partway down the hallway before I am overwhelmed by emotion. Fear, anger, remorse, and guilt wage a war over which of them should destroy me first. My chest tightens and I lean against the wall and struggle to breathe. But this time the air doesn’t come.
Someone puts a hand on my shoulder. I hear words in the distance, a woman’s voice, white disappearing into a sea of black. My knees hit the floor but I feel nothing. I am at once empty and filled with pain.
And then warm arms enfold me, lift me, carry me. A heart firm and steady beats against my chest. The rumble of a voice, the creak of leather, and the rich masculine scent of Ray.
He strokes my hair and talks, holds me against him. I can’t make out his words, but his voice pulls me out of the darkness. I draw in a breath of sweet, cool air and look up into a sea of blue.
“There she is,” he whispers.
“And here you are.” I bury my face against his chest, breathing him in, resting my cheek against the soft cotton of his Twisted Sister T-shirt as he leans back on the bench in the hallway.
“What happened to Tag is my fault.” My voice chokes with tears. “He wanted his life back. The life I stole from him.” And then, because he came when I needed him, because he says he is broken too, I tell him what I should have told him before. “I was…” Raped. But no, I’ve never been able to say that word. Even now. “Sexually assaulted.”