Bad Boy's Treat: The Possessed MC Read online

  I look over his shoulder towards the bathroom -- an idea popping into my head as my mouth goes dry. The hand pressed into him leads him in that direction, him walking backward with his eyes squared on me. I look down at our feet, too shy to give myself away. I was going to need all my courage to go through with this.

  I lead him straight to the large, walk-in shower where brown and gold glass tile glitter under a few floodlights above us. Without looking away from me, Liam hits a panel near the glass door, and the jets start, spraying from each side and above like the luxury water fountain outside of this casino. The water is warm and inviting, but I’m not ready to dive in just yet.

  With one push away from him, I free myself, walking back a few steps -- just enough so he can’t reach out to me. I reach behind my back to find the gold metal zipper to my low-back dress. Hook by hook, it unfurls the dress down the length of my back, my hips, my ass until it cascades down my legs and past the heels of my borrowed shoes.

  Liam lets out a rush of air as he stares with eyes as hungry as a wolf’s. His lips pop unconsciously as his palms rub together eagerly. I allow my hips to sway just slightly to the sound of a beat in my own head. My skin feels hot to the touch as I pour my fingers through my pinned up hair and down the back of my neck towards the front of my chest. I cover my breasts with my hands, slightly massaging at the perky mounds of flesh. Again, I reach behind to unlatch the red lace strapless bra.

  My nipples are already stiff and tender, waiting for attention. I place them between my two fingers and roll them in and out with the rhythm of my massage. Liam’s arms cross at his chest as if he is physically restraining himself from coming after me. He’s giving me permission to do this. On the tip of my toes, I spin bit by bit around so that all he can see is my fingers rounding the mounds of my tits, the curve of my back, and the black thong I purposefully put on just for him.

  My crossed arms and hands slide down the hourglass of my body until they hook around the thin layer of sheer fabric. With a wiggle of my hips, I begin to lower and fold the panties so that it curls over the fleshiest part of my bottom. When they are off, I bend over slightly to step out, giving him the full show. It’s an exposure I would never be comfortable with giving to anyone but a man like him -- a man I knew appreciated a body like mine.

  That confidence stayed with me as I walked back towards Liam who still stood at the door of the shower with his arms held firmly to his own bare chest. I place a hand upon his shoulders, and with the largest force I can muster, push him firmly up against the wall. His body almost bounces back in surprise as he calls out. His lips open, but I’m already there, pulling his neck down so that I can taste the sweet salt of the sweat still fresh from the fight. Water beats down and around us, but all I can taste and feel is Liam -- his worn and wrapped hands on my hips, the brush of his unshaven chin and cheeks, and the pierce of his teeth on my lips as he tugs me in further to him.

  I could stay here forever, just Liam and I pushing and pulling back in a fight for who would rule this kiss and the next. But I’ve got work to do. I let go, forcing myself to do so, and creep down to my knees. Tugging slowly, I remove the boxing shorts and boxers from around his waist, revealing his large, sturdy dick. Seeing it now, like this under the bright lights of the shower, I still am amazed that it managed to fit so snugly into me yesterday. I smile wickedly as I imagine what I could do with an instrument like this…

  “Alana,” he purrs as I begin massaging around the base of his cock. “Alana…” We both know what’s going to happen next. We both can feel the tug towards the other. Yet it doesn’t make me want this less. It doesn’t make his calls of my name that less more exciting, more demanding. I give him what his words can’t ask for, and what his breath can’t seem to let out. My wet lips press against the smooth skin of his shaft and slide the length to his base -- one long, unbroken kiss to reward my champion.

  Next comes my tongue. Wet and ready, it curves around the tip, enveloping it like a warm blanket. Just like my lips, it slides its way up and down the throbbing cock as it grows and pulsates against my taste buds. He tastes even better than yesterday. His scent is thick, but it has that musk in that it has to belong to a beast rather than a man. I want that smell inside and all over my own needing body.

  At the top, I open just wide enough for him to ease his cock into my mouth. Before I can go further, he pulls my hair back harshly, forcing me to look up at him. He isn’t smiling or showing any bit of emotion at all, he looks at me with a passion that is beyond description or explanation. He looks down at me like a man that wants more than needs.

  I take the entirety of his cock into my mouth. He gently guides into the space, filling my cheeks and throat with his flesh. I hold on to the back of his legs as he begins to rock. This is not normally how I do it, but he needs the control, and to feel like he could win at something else besides the match. And I am more than happy to give him that satisfaction. His rhythm is slow and tender, only inching out of the crevasse of my mouth just slightly before plowing back in.

  I keep up with him with my tongue, dancing it over the curves and veins of his shaft, tasting places I have yet to experience yet. Liam picks up speed, and I lose touch with my mouth, my jaw goes numb as I let him devour me. I moan, deliciously excited for him to take me like this, right here in the shower with the warm water pounding down my back and his chest. The wetness only makes the glide even more daring as he pushes and pulls back and forth into me.

  His wrapped hands curl around my hair, pulling my head back again. “I’m going to cum,” he calls out. I know it’s a warning, but I am too far gone. I want this. I want to taste what he tastes like. I want to feel his cum spray into me - the product of my hard work. I open my mouth wider and close my eyes. His cock swells in time with his body falling back against the brown and gold shimmering tiled walls. I feel him release the muscles of his body before the deliciously salty and slick liquid pours out onto my tongue and down the back of my throat. I swallow quickly and let out a sigh as I back myself up against the glass wall.

  Liam towers above me, his eyes still shut tight as if he is unwilling to let those moments go just yet. Out of breath, he growls at me, “It’s your turn now.” Before I can even move, he has scooped me up back to my feet and presses me up against the cool, smooth glass of the shower door. The icy cold touch stings my nipples and sinks into the thick skin of my thighs. But I remain still as he spreads my legs apart with his own. “Don’t move,” he adds. As if I could…

  The next thing I know, I feel a hand grab onto my buttocks. He takes a large chunk of my flesh and squeezes it firmly -- so much so that I push even further into the glass. Liam then moves to the other side and does the same. I feel the brush of his chin against my hair as he leans in close, “An ass like this should be enjoyed.” He then spreads the two apart, exposing me even further to him.

  “Mmmm,” he murmurs to himself. “There’s so much I could do to it.” I want to respond, but, for some reason, all the spit in my mouth has dried up, and my tongue has become completely numb. I am powerless to his desires.

  Liam takes one last long breath of my hair and neck before sinking down to his knees right between my parted legs. With a hand on the small of my back, he commands me to scoot myself back further to him, my hands, breasts, and face, still plastered up against the glass while the rest of me folds gently in place.

  Every touch he makes causes me to press further back. The feeling of his hands at my ankles, the tracing of his finger down my spine and between my cheeks, the rub of his rough face against the lily white parts of my inner thighs -- he’s managed to master the art of pure sexual torture. There’s nothing I can do but let out tiny shrieks whenever he changes his position.

  “Perfect, Alana,” he says, admiring the folds of my pussy up close. Two fingers gently scrape across the top just so. “And already wet…” He pulls back the fingers and places them in his mouth as he sighs. “Delicious. You taste exactly how I imagined y
ou would.”

  “How’s that?” I manage to get out.

  Liam answers with a sly wink, “Like ice cream on a hot day.” With that, he dives into my pussy, his fingers replaced by the warmth of his plump lips. They suction around my folds, rotating kissing and sucking while his long tongue flicked at the opening until it almost pushes itself in. I can’t help but let out a cry that wasn’t quite his name and wasn’t quite a word. It was a plea for more.

  There is no stopping Liam after he begins. Just like his fight in the ring, he is relentless. He approaches me from every angle, making sure to explore every curve of the space between my legs with both his lips, tongue, and fingers. But it isn’t until he pulls back the skin covering my clit that I experience the knockout. My tiny nub rubs against the roughness of his hands. The calloused fingers and the stained wrap massage while his tongue continues to flirt with the entrance to my pussy.

  The sensation is almost too much for me. My toes curl so much so that I am forced to stand on tippy-toes to keep balance, and I grab desperately at the glass, pounding a fist into the surface. The hollow ring echoes through the sound of the water falling down upon Liam’s body. I plant myself in place, forcing me to feel and experience the madness of Liam’s work. The pain is worth the pleasure.

  My ass presses back towards his face as I let go, and my hips lower to him so that I was practically bowing to the ground. I want him like water in a desert. I want him like a child and candy. I want him like rain on a hot day. I want him, and I want no other. At some point, I begin calling out his name. The deep, guttural sound in my chest becomes words, directing him through the map to my orgasm. “Liam… faster…. Liam… oh, God! Your mouth…. Liam… inside me… now…. More… YES.”

  He obeys each and every one of my requests, moving through me as if he has known my body forever. His long arms reach up to grab hold of my breasts for support. Like magic, he manages to read my mind, massaging them with the same veracity as his tongue dashing in and out of my pussy.

  Part of me wants to hold on to this - to keep myself from orgasming as long as possible. This is the kind of feeling that needs to last for as long as I can make it. However, that burning pit in my stomach and between my legs is slowly creeping up my chest, causing the butterflies to float and flutter through my arms and neck. Everything begins to tingle deliciously as I focus on Liam gently licking at the wetness of my vulva.

  I can’t take it anymore. I can’t hold it in. I press my legs down into the tiled ground as if I’m about to take off and then, in one beautiful moment, it happens. It’s an orgasm to beat all orgasms. Warm and maddening, my head spins and struggles to stay afloat for that second, that long second when everything in this world is perfect and pure. It’s only Liam and me in this shower while the rest of the world is not. No one could feel the power of Liam bringing me to orgasm. No one could feel the burning release. With just a few touches, he has managed to set me free.

  I turn around, panting, my arms reaching for him. They find his neck as my legs wrap around his thick hips. His cock is already hard again, searching for my pussy as he pulls me back against the back wall of the shower. My hands float up against the wall, him pinning them in place as he kisses the side of my neck and frantically down between my breasts. My nails claw at his back, desperately begging him to just enter me.

  Liam’s head whips to the side. His motion stops as the room grows suddenly too quiet. “Did you hear that?” he asks as he turns back to me. I am too wrapped up to hear anything but the sound of our mouths gasping for breath, and our fingers thumping against wet skin.

  “No… nothing,” I say to him as I gently tug at his chin to lead him straight back to my lips. “It’s just the wa--”

  There was a knock -- a thunderous, urgent knock that couldn’t be ignored. It rang through the dressing room and into the bathroom. “Liam fucking Murphy! Open the damn door!” A man’s voice that I instantly recognize as his coach breaks through. “Open up and tell your damn security to stand down! You’ve got a presser to do in five minutes!”

  Liam leans over my shoulder and hits his head against the tile in frustration. “There’s things I love about winning. This was certainly one of them. But then there’s the other shit I’ve gotta do too… like talk to a hundred reporters in a press room instead of fucking you until you’re raw and orgasming for a second and third time.”

  “Must suck to be a winner,” I say as I slip out of his grip and under his arm. I throw him a towel from a pile of white linens while wrapping another around my body. Looking over my shoulder, I scowl, “I’ll take a reign check then, I suppose.”

  A thought comes to me as I pull the dress over my wet head. Just as Liam is about to leave, I let it slip, “I saw your ex tonight. You may want to check your boys. She says she was going to meet with them tonight.”

  From the crestfallen, pissed off look on his face, I know it’s not the right bomb to drop on him before he heads out to deal with the press and his coach, but that’s what I’m here for, right? Screwing around on the job is just the second benefit.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Liam!” My manager Eric bursts into my dressing room just as I toss on the gray sweat pants. He couldn’t care less that he’s just passed Alana as she walks out past the press corps camped outside my room. I doubt anyone noticed or even thought to ask questions. Girls like Alana were a dime a dozen in this business. But they didn’t know Alana.

  “I’m coming,” I say roughly as I lean down to tie my sneakers. “I heard you the first time, Eric. You don’t have to play the mommy role either here.” I’m being an ass, and I know it. Frankly, I’m pissed. Alana in the shower was like a dream I’ve never imagined coming true. Her distinct sweet taste still lingered in my mouth as I take a swig from my water bottle.

  “Fuck the press,” Eric says excitedly as he sits down next to me. “I’ve got some big news, man.”

  I sit up a bit straighter. I’ve never seen Eric this excited. As my manager, he’s had to deal with a ton of shit from my end, especially with the club always being my first priority. I even made him negotiate bringing in my guys as security at the MGM Grand during fight nights in exchange for me taking a cut of my winnings. But he does it with gritted teeth and hands balled into fists. However, this Eric was Eric in a candy store. This Eric was Eric on the latest speed drug we had on the market. He was practically giddy with excitement.

  “The agent from ABL, Liam! He watched your fight, and he’s got a number for you.” He stands up again, too thrilled to remain seated for this. Eric, Ricky, and the rest of the team have been waiting on this number since I began the pro-am circuit last year. It’s the number of matches before you can officially be called a pro. It’s the number of wins you must have under your belt to earn that title pretty much every single fighter dreams about when he is training.

  I haven’t been boxing for long. Most start off when they’re kids, but I began when I was just a few years out of high school. It was my way of burning some calories. Road life and working the pub was packing on the pounds more quickly than I had anticipated. The worst thing you can be when you’re trying to start up an imposing, dominant motorcycle club is fat and lazy.

  So, I started going to the Beat Gym on a whim. I was a guy who wanted to pound the shit out of something. I had to be constantly moving, and there was just so much in me that needed to get out that I couldn’t control it. Boxing, even if it was just hitting a fifty-pound bag of sand, meant I could do it without killing anyone in the process. After the first day, I was hooked.

  I was also spotted. Ricky, my coach, saw me randomly hitting at the bag like a madman without control. Who the hell knows what he thought of me then and there, but the next day he told me to get in the ring. He put me up against a guy who had ten years of fighting and sparring experience on me. He told him to not hold back as he pummeled me with fists that felt like I was being stabbed at from all angles. Within two rounds, I was backed into the corner of the ring, takin
g bloody body blows that I still have scars from.

  I left that day angry. Ricky had brushed me off like I had somehow disappointed him. Maybe he did this to all the guys he scouted out. Or maybe he just thought I had more potential as a newbie. My pigheaded self wouldn’t let him think I was weak or that I couldn’t handle the pain. I punished myself each and every day. I convinced the manager to open up at odd hours so I could work out. I stashed money away so I could pay sparring partners to continue to beat the shit out of me until I learned to hit back like a real boxer.

  Several months later, I was back in the ring in front of Ricky. He wasn’t there to watch me. He had another kid on his schedule, some young high schooler with jacked up muscles and a broken nose. But when he saw me knock out my partner in two shots, he canceled the next fight and brought me into his office at the back of the gym -- where only the real fighters of the fitness club were invited. He offered me the chance of a lifetime. He’d train me, coach me, and help manage my career with the help of his agent-on-call, Eric, if I followed his rules and trained right.