Page 75 of Uppercut Princess

He slides his other hand under my ass, propping me up to him like I’m his last meal. He sweeps his tongue over my clit, and my whole body trembles. He nuzzles me, taking his time in deciding where to taste next. Where to devour me. The anticipation is almost too much. He presses a soft kiss to my fold and then licks a drop of pleasure seeping out of me. “God, Kyla.”

My toes curl. I press my knees to the bed, moving closer to him, silently telling him I want more of what he’s giving me. At this point, I might just come apart with any of his tastes that last longer than a second. Fuck, I might just cream before he does anything.

I whimper, a sound I’m not used to hearing from me during sex, but it’s well deserved. Brawler opens his eyes to watch me. His gaze turns darker, like a dark fire has lit him from within. “You want me,” he says, not a hint of question in his gaze or words.

I can truthfully say I’ve wanted him to touch me more than anyone else I’ve ever met. Which makes me think he’s done all this on purpose. The fuck if I care. “I do.”

This time, he locks gazes with me as he gives me exactly what I want: him. If it’s not his tongue devouring me, it’s his blue gaze, heightening the pleasure coursing through me. He’s skilled, his tongue sweeping over me in expert strokes as I cling to the bed for support. He laps at me, hungrily, enjoying this as much as I am. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he flicks his tongue over my clit.

It doesn’t take him long to make me cry out. I clutch his shoulders as he barrages my core with more until my limbs relax like useless putty, waiting to be molded into something new.

After I come back down, he slips in beside me, holding me to him. I try to ask him what he wants me to do for him, but he tells me to stop and kisses my temple as he holds me, molding his body around me until neither one of us can tell where one of us begins and the other ends.

27

The next week, we barely bother with school. For me, that’s never been the point of being here other than the fact that I needed to be where the Crew was. Since they’re always around me now, and we have more important things to worry about than our grade in English, we don’t even pretend to care we’re missing out on it.

Oscar is the only one who goes just enough to stay on the football team. Not even the administration of Rawley Heights will look the other way in that regard, but it doesn’t have anything to do with enforcing the rule. It has everything to do with the fact that if they enforce the rule, they’re hoping they can use it as a way to shut the sport down. It’s one of the few ones still being funded by the shitty money the school gets every year, and I half suspect that the team isn’t getting all the money they’re supposed to be allocated anyway.

But that’s a fight for another time.

Brawler hasn’t left my side. Oscar, when he’s not taking care of his mother or at practice, is with me, too. They seem to have come to a sort of truce. For now. Each one eyes the other when they’re with me. And when Johnny is around, each of them stalk to the sidelines like Johnny’s kicked their puppy.

Magnum is all business. I have to hand it to him. He’s taken a lot while we’ve trained. Don’t get me wrong. He’s given a lot too. I had to stop an argument between him and Johnny because Johnny thought he was giving it to me too rough. When I explained that Evan will be trying to kill me, and I need Magnum to do as much if not more, so that I can come out on top, he stopped, begrudgingly. The rest of the night he eyed Magnum like he was plotting his demise.

Magnum, Oscar, Johnny, and I have been going for morning runs. Magnum drives us to a park in Johnny’s nice car where we get out and run like we’re a running club instead of four people worried about winning the rights to continue an illegal underground fight ring. We pass other morning joggers every day who I’m sure aren’t happy about seeing the newcomers on the trail. They eye us warily. The guys I’m with are badass looking, and every one of them exudes trouble. If Brawler jogged with us, I’m sure the other runners would stop coming once they spotted his tattoos. Little would they know what they represent. To them, he’d just be a thug with a neck tattoo who has ruined his chance for any real employment. To me, he’s a hell of a lot more.

Whenever Johnny isn’t around, we sneak kisses, words of affection, and come together to plan the fight with words hanging heavy between us. In each other, we have more reasons for me to come out on top. For us, it’s more than just getting the win for the Heights Crew, it’s needing to win so neither of us have to lose again.

Oscar helps where he can, but I’m adamant about not sparring with him because he can’t get hurt while football is still ongoing. He let it slip that he’s up for a major scholarship. One that could give him the money for college. Knowing Oscar, he could give a fuck about college, but it’s the opportunity to keep playing that makes him tick. It’s the possibility that he could move on from that and play professionally even. It makes me sad to think I was only able to watch part of his game before. Even in those few short minutes, I saw the caliber of player he was, but I would’ve loved to have seen more. Seeing Oscar play football is like seeing into his soul. When we’re anywhere near the Heights Crew, Oscar’s in a disguise he has to wear to stay alive.

Two days before the fight, Johnny takes my hand in his. “I’m claiming you for tonight.”

My flirtatious banter with him comes easily now. It’s almost like I’m not pretending. I seriously worry for my sanity. “You already claimed me.”

His mouth pulls into a smirk. “I mean I told my dad to clear my schedule. It’s just us two.”

“Us two and your favorite guard?” I ask, motioning toward Magnum.

He’s in the corner of the warehouse, sucking down water. I’m still trying to get my breath under control from our last sparring session. Sweat has slicked my hair back until it’s matted to my face. I’m in desperate need of a shower and a massage. Something Oscar’s been happy to oblige me with lately. As long as no one else is around, of course.

“Some things just have to be,” Johnny says. “You can just ignore him when we’re together.”

I’d love to be able to, but the truth is, Magnum is always staring at me. So much so that I’m surprised Johnny hasn’t noticed. “Right,” I say, taking a bottle of water and cracking the top, so I can chug it down. Its icy cool temperature does wonders to cool me off. “And what will we be doing tonight?”

“Something…normal,” he says.

My brows pull together. Normal? Johnny is so abnormal I’m not sure he knows what normal is. Does he realize training for a fight against a guy that could probably snap me in half isn’t normal? Does he realize having a guy follow us around all the time isn’t normal?

He lowers his voice. “I just want to show you that we can still be normal,” he says again, his voice trailing off. “I feel like you need that, like you’ve been missing out on that.”

Honestly, this conversation is probably the most surprising one I’ve ever had. But the fact that Johnny recognizes it is even more of a surprise. “What’s your idea of normal, Johnny Rocket?” I tease.

He opened up to me just yesterday, explaining to me why his Heights Crew nickname is Rocket. Apparently, the guy has a penchant for explosives, which is scary as fuck. A silent killer. You can take out anybody with an explosive and not even be anywhere near them to have to clean up the mess. Ever since he’s told me, I can’t seem to stop asking myself how many people he’s killed. Or if he’s done it at all. Does Big Daddy K even allow his son to get his hands dirty?

I can’t make myself form the words to ask him. I’d rather not know.

“Dinner and a movie. And I think I can help with your Magnum problem.”

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