I want the money to help my dad and sister, but I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge either.
“I know of fighters that have done this Tate. It’s an honor to even be asked to participate, take the opportunity and seize the moment. She wouldn’t have asked you if she didn’t think you were ready.”
Anger rushes through me to where spots appear in my vision. “It’s not that I don’t think I can do this, it’s just a lot of secrets I don’t feel comfortable with.”
“If this is about you not telling Camden, just know that we all have a story we never tell.” She taps her nail on the door before leaving.
I sink back into my chair as my fingers fumble with my bottom lip.
I remember when I was little my dad telling a local newspaper that fighters have three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life. I used to wonder what secrets my father held, but as I’m stepping into his shoes I think I’m starting to find out.
Camden
Sitting on the bench I watch Tate as she jump ropes, I told her to take a few days off to heal but she insists that she keeps training.
She’s wearing some blue work out shorts, and a large yellow shirt with the arms cut off. Her blonde hair falling from her loose ponytail with every jump. I don’t know how she can make the simplest of clothes look like she took hours to perfect, but she does.
“Will you stop staring at my tits like that?” she asks between jumps.
I cock a smirk.
“When you have tits like you do, it’s like a vortex baby. They just suck me right in.” Raising my arms I display how my sight zeros in on her delectable chest, and she laughs.
She stops jumping, dropping the rope to the ground. She seems off today, in fact she’s seemed off the last few days. I feel like she isn’t telling me something, but I can’t keep asking. I’ll look like a pussy.
“You want to eat?” I ask.
“No, I’m good.” I raise a brow. “I was thinking about getting pizza, when is the last time you had deep dish?”
“Uh, been awhile, but I’m good.” She shrugs.
Tilting my head to the side I eye her. Tate never backs down from pizza.
“Are you sick?”
“Do what?” She looks up me, her tone of voice indicating she has no idea what we are talking about. She hasn’t been the same and it’s starting to piss me off.
Grabbing her hand roughly I pull her into me, her eyes flashing with surprise.
“Do you need a good fucking? Is that what has you so unfocused and on edge? Do you need my cock?” Her cheeks warm as she looks around to see if anyone heard. Sliding my hand up her back, I fist her hair making her look me in the eyes.
“Screw them, I’ll fuck you right here and let them watch if it means I can bring you back to earth.”
“I think your ego is growing faster than your dick,” she smarts, and I strengthen my hold on her hair.
“Maybe you should test that out, tell me if my cock is bigger than my ego or not?”
Not giving her a chance to respond I walk her backwards before opening a door that leads into a storage closet.
“What are you doing?” she whispers frantically.
Ignoring her I shove her inside the dark closet and pull the door shut. Light from the gym skirts under the door giving barely enough light.
The room is small, filled with an old punching bag, a mop and bucket, and the broom. It smells of lemon and bleach, but it’ll do.
“Camden what—” I shove her against the punching bag and her eyes flash with anger.
“I see a lot of anger dwelling in those eyes baby.” Her throat bobs as she looks anywhere but at me. I grab her chin roughly making her look me in the eyes. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” I demand. Gritting her teeth her hand collides with my cheek, a burning sensation spreading across my jaw. My cock instantly goes hard.
Rubbing my cheek I slowly take my eyes from the floor to her. Silently asking her if she’s ready for a round of rough sex.
“Do it,” she seethes. Verbally telling me she wants me to get rough.
Not one to disappoint I fist her hair, strands snapping from the root. I smash my lips to hers, and her tongue finds mine. We kiss, suck, and nip. It’s not a slow sensual kiss, it’s wet, warm, and rough. Teeth clash, the taste of metallic filling our mouths. I can’t get enough.
Her nails scratch at my back, hot breaths, and gasps the only thing to be heard in the small dark space.
The handle to the mop falls hitting me in the head and I shove it behind me, not wanting to stop the fighting desire that is sparking between us.
Picking her up by the thighs I slam her back against the old torn punching bag. Using my hips I pin her there and shove her shirt and bra up so her sweaty tits are at my disposal. Her hands snake up my back and fist my hair, my neck straining as she tugs it back hard.