The F King: A Bad Boy Romance (Still a Bad Boy Book 3) (19 page)

F
or fuck sake
, they should have renamed this event “Blue Balls in New Ashby.” First Skylar and then that new ring girl, Ariana, snatched from my clutches at the last moment. Ariana had even posed for
Rich Man’s Plaything
magazine before getting the job with NHBFC.

She’d slipped me a piece of paper with her phone number on it as I walked up the steps to sit at the table for the press conference. Her job was to stand there and look pretty, and she was great at it.

But no, after the media asked their inane questions, Ross and I were called up here to talk to the president of the NHBFC himself, Ian Ewert, and some other guy that I couldn’t give two fucks about. Ian had a nice office to use in every venue where he held an NHBFC event, but New Ashby was the home of the organization and the capital of MMA in the States, so this one was
his
office.

“Great fight today, Austin. The crowd went nuts, they loved it. When you got that choke on, they blew the roof off, I thought my ears were gonna bleed. You’re gettin’ the Submission of the Night bonus, good job.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about though,” he said, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his desk.

“Oh?”

“No. You’ve seen this gentleman around? Robbie Johnson?” He gestured at the other guy.

“Nope.”

“Well, he’s been doing some work for me in a freelance capacity. He’s been with the SWE for twenty years.”

“The what?” I asked.

“Superstar Wrestling Enterprises,” Robbie interjected for himself in a thick New York accent.

“Oh. Sucks for you. What does that have to do with me?”

Robbie looked surprised by my comment for a second, but it was the most diplomatic thing I could say about the bullshit stage play that was professional wrestling. Ian was more accustomed to me and took it all in his stride.

“There you go, that’s one of the things we have to talk about. I’ve just hired Robbie here to be in charge of a new Character Development team in the Media Relations division full time.”

Ross spoke up. “I’m not sure if I follow, sir. We’re just here to fight, we don’t have time in the training schedule for whatever this is. Character development? We’re not trying to make Austin a Boy Scout leader, we’re trying to make him the most dangerous man on the planet in hand to hand combat.”

“And you’re doing a good job, but that’s not what I’m talking about. This is a Media Relations play. You know what professional wrestling has that we don’t?” Ian asked.

“A bunch of pussies?” I guessed.

“Week after week, month after month, SWE events outsell, absolutely
dwarf
, NHBFC events. Why?” Robbie asked.

Ross and I glanced at each other but said nothing. This was beginning to piss me off. I could have cornholed a published model by now if it wasn’t for this little pep talk about pro wrestling.

“Drama.” Robbie answered his own question. “SWE has a team of writers scripting and manufacturing drama every single day and the crowds love it. That’s what I’m going to bring to NHBFC.”

“I’m no fancy businessman, but I think if you start having people get in the cage in stupid outfits and hitting each other with chairs, the organization is going to be circling the toilet pretty fuckin’ quick,” I said.

“That’s the beauty of it. The action in the decagon is going to stay real, we don’t script that. It just means the writers need to prepare different versions of the story depending on who wins,” said Ian.

“And you, Austin, are going to be our first major storyline.”

“I fucking am not. There’s nothing in my contract about this. Like Ross says, we don’t have time for it.”

I stood to leave and Ian raised his hands, fingers spread, waving me down like he was playing a keyboard on a high shelf. “Wait, wait, hear me out. I think you’re gonna like this.”

“What’s to like about this place turning into an off-Broadway play?” I asked, grudgingly returning to my seat.

“We don’t anticipate this is going to involve
that
much extra work for you. You already do interviews and record TV spots to promote your fights and events, for the most part we just need better… uh…
management
of what you say in those circumstances,” said Robbie.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, the storyline we’ve got worked out for you is a heel-face turn. That’s when a villain becomes a good guy for some reason. Wrestling fans love it.”

“I’m a fighter, not an actor. I don’t understand what you expect me to do here. If somebody gets in the cage with me I’m going to fuck them up, that’s what I do.”

Ian waved my objection away. “Yes, yes, of course. Nothing changes there, it’s just that… well, take the post-event press conference today.”

“What about it?” I asked.

“Well, instead of calling your opponent a stupid fucking asshole who had no business getting in the ring with you, you could perhaps just say he’s a skilled fighter who was beaten by a better man on the day. Same goes for the promo spots.”

I could feel my face screwing up in disgust, my knuckles were getting white with strain holding on to the armrests. Robbie here might have a two hundred and thirty pound surprise waiting for him in the parking lot if this wasn’t some kind of joke.

“When do we get to the part I’m supposed to like?” I said through gritted teeth.

Ian sat back in his chair again and clasped his hands over his stomach with a “checkmate-motherfucker” kind of look on his face. He glanced at Robbie before answering.

“Title shot.”

That got my attention. Undefeated in five years as the reigning heavyweight champion, and another five before that as he moved up the ranks, there was nobody I wanted to face in the cage more than Brenton Southgate. Fuck I wanted to see the look on his bloodied and bruised face when I finally decided to make him tap out.

I must have been wearing my heart on my sleeve, because Ian put his hand into a gun shape and pointed it at me with a smile. Robbie’s face mirrored the same expression.

“You don’t really
deserve
the title shot, of course,” Ian said, “after the losses to Coles and Harbinger, but the crowd loves watching you fight so, Austin, you do this for me,
and
beat the current number one contender, and I’ll give you your shot at Southgate.

Holy shit, beat the number one contender? I was going to rip his fucking head off so fast the crowd would want their money back.

“OK, when do we start?” I asked.

“Hold up, what’s the extra compensation for this?” Ross asked.

“Nothin’,” said Ian. “Not directly, anyway. You’ll get a bigger purse just for it being a title fight, and… ah, screw it, I’ll throw in an extra hundred kay into your purse if the ticket sales and pay per view buy-ins break records. And they will, if you do your part.”

Fuck it, they had me at “title shot”. This was no time for Ross to play hardball. I gave him a look and he shrugged.

“I’m in. What do I do?”

“Well,” said Robbie, “there’s just one more thing.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“We needed a reason for the heel-face turn. The writers pitched a bunch of ideas, and the best one involves a whirlwind romance and marriage with a suitable woman,” said Robbie.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Title shot,” said Ian, drawing the words out in a singsong voice.

“We’ve already got your wife lined up,” said Robbie.

“What? Who?”

“Ariana Gray, the new ring girl. Maybe you saw her out there tonight?”

Apparently I was wearing my heart on my sleeve again, because Ian and Robbie looked like they’d landed the sale. This was the weirdest fucking meeting I’d ever had though.

“Like we have to
really
get married? Why?”

“Public record,” said Robbie. “Once we’ve been doing this for a while, people are going to cotton on to the fact that certain situations have been scripted. It won’t matter in the long run, it’s common knowledge with professional wrestling and that doesn’t stop the cash flowing in, but we can ride the reality train for a better return on investment until then. I mean, what do you care, right? You’re gettin’ a title shot over here.”

This was the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. Ian had built NHBFC into a pretty major organization, but surely he’d lost his mind on this one.

Still, as long as I had the chance to face the best they had, then the business of it all wasn’t my concern. Plus, oh fuck the wifely duties Ariana would have. And… title shot. My long pondering silence seemed to be confirmation enough for Ian and Robbie.

“It’s settled then,” Ian said. “We already talked to Ariana, and she was pretty enthusiastic about it.”

Of course she was.

“Get some rest, keep training as normal,” Ian said. “We’ll draw up all the paperwork and fill you in on the details soon enough.”

A
fter 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