Page 16 of Unwrapped

With images of a dark-haired beast of a man undressing me, un-wrapping me like the gift he always wanted, I slip my hand between my legs. Shutting my eyes, I imagine him touching me with rough, callused hands, holding me down as he feasts on me. Grant was never one to reciprocate oral.

I moan, rubbing my slippery folds, then pinch my own nipples, convulsing to some nameless, faceless stranger.

But he won’t be a stranger for long.

I’ll find my bad-boy biker…in Springdale, Oregon.

Smiling and sated, I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.

3

DARE

MY EYES OPEN BEFORE my alarm goes off. I tossed and turned all night. It didn’t help that Isabella called dozens of times and sent even more texts. Each more desperate than the last.

I blocked her number around three a.m. but thoughts of going back to Oregon kept turning in my head. I miss the boys. But there was a reason why I left. Actually, several good ones.

I’ve achieved everything I set out to do when I left six years ago—and yet something still seems missing.

I dress in my running gear, pulling a dark hooded sweatshirt over my head. I’ll jog five miles to the UFC gym where I work out and still have plenty of time to make my flight.

My feet tread heavily over ice-covered sidewalks. I don’t slip once. My shoes have special tractions underneath making it easier for me to navigate. My breath comes out in steady puffs of steam.

The blood pumps through my veins; my steady pace keeping me from icing over. I’m at the gym just as the doors open at 5 a.m. wasting no time as I lace up a pair of boxing gloves and enter the ring.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.” I turn facing Ernie.

He’s a man’s man motherfucker. Born and raised in the streets of Chicago. But so was I. Maybe it was a different street, a different state but the scars on his heart matched mine.

“So be it.” He grins, before putting his mouthguard in. I put my own in feeling like myself for the first time in a while.

I’ve changed, but underneath all my layers of education and finely tailored suits is still a man raised on the wrong side of the tracks with the skill to prove it.

We meet in the center of the ring and tap gloves.

Then, it’s on.

Eyeing each other, our feet dance in small circles. He jabs first. I block. Round and round we go. Jabbing, circling, letting go of everything that swirls inside us. All that matters is what’s here. What’s coming as I block another right hook then jab low connecting with his ribs.

“Fuck, man.”

“Sorry. I lost myself.”

“It’s cool. I know. That’s why I come here too.”

Breathing hard. I wipe the sweat from my face with a towel. Take my mouth guard out and squirt some ice-cold water in my mouth. I tap my gloves to his. “I’m out. See you in the New Year.”

“What about tomorrow? Or do you need that much time to recover.”

“I could’ve dropped ya’ if I wanted.”

“Bullshit.” He straightens, all our banter turning serious.

I grin, “Loosen up, E. I just need to blow off steam. I don’t come here looking for anything more than that.”

“Word. I feel you. Merry Christmas, pretty boy.”

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