Page 99 of Filthy Love

The VP was lightheaded with excitement tickling his lungs.

Consequences be damned.

He’d go to hell knowing how it felt to have her come around his cock and her nails gouge out his fucking spine from the outside.

She pulled away, smiling her angelic smile to send his wasted heart into a tailspin of need and want and addiction all combined in a nasty gift-wrapped package he ached to present to her to keep as her own.

To evolve he had to accept first his circumstances …all of them… and then to know fate was tied to a little bit of a thing who owned him completely.

Fuck. He was some flowery fucking speaking motherfucker when he was horny.

Her hand stole between her wet thighs, she expelled a wispy sigh when she touched herself and laid her cheek on his shoulder, her other hand went to his chest right over his tattoo.

Intimacy. He thought. This was it. Togetherness of the like he never thought he’d share with anyone least of all his obsessive love.

And then she blew his mind into tiny pieces.

“Now make yourself come and say my name…then we can discuss the terms of this sex only relationship you want with me.”

Screwed. He thought grunting, his fingers obeying like soldiers of war.

He was so fucking screwed.

She was going to own him.

And he’d go to the slaughter as a happy shithead.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“There’s bad timing and then there’s Prince Charming timing.” - Tag

“We gonna hook up tonight?”

Not many people knew that in the heart of Armado Springs, just off main street beneath the office of the local optometrist, right next door to the florist and bakery in an underground building with all the walls save for the supporting beams all knocked through into one huge space and the only access being through the basement of the Italian restaurant was a custom-built ten-foot octagon cage the size of a tennis court. And inside that custom iron cage with its unshakable walls and lights dotting around the rim for effect for both fighters and the crowd, four nights a week, men of all sizes and backgrounds, mostly those in the criminally inclined lifestyle fought for money.

The place smelled of sweat, blood and greed. And it was one of Tag’s favorite places to be. Seeing as how he was the top billed fighter who raked in the most cash on whatever night of the week he happened to fight. He tended to save his bouts for those special occasions. When the big money was in town, usually the celebrities and the lawyers who wanted a bit of dirty excitement from the MMA world with an undercurrent of illegal activity.

After all, nothing that happened in the underground cage was lawful.

Save for death and use of weapons, anything went.

And it was all run by the Renegade Souls MC.

Tag, with his clip of shorn blond hair sticking up in an array of sweaty tufts and piercing turquoise eyes smiled temptingly at the woman asking the question. She’d hung around after the last fight was over and everyone went home happy.

Tag made a killing on his bets tonight and so had the club, so he was a happy boy. He’d be taking around a cool fifty G to Texas to wash it nice and clean in their other more public friendly businesses. And that was just from one fight. Tag’s fight which was coming the end of this month, invite only for the high rollers.

Tag might be one of the MC’s Sergeant in Arms, but down here with the sweat and the honest to goodness scrapping, he was most at home.

His boys called him Prince Charming because they said the chicks dug his long lashes and twinkling smile. Not to mention his massive dick and the way he rode in on his Harley V-Rod like a modern-day anti-hero coming to entice the panties off the princess in her condo tower.

Down here though, he was known only as the champion. Undefeated in his last twenty-three fights.

He grabbed up his holdall and slung it over one shoulder. Time was he would have taken the girl up on her not so subtle offer. He would have already had her down on the blood-soaked floor and up her tiny skirt licking her in indecent ways with her ring covered fingers locked in his hair pumping her hips for god and all to witness. Time was, he wouldn’t have minded an audience either. But not tonight.

“Sorry, babe,” he told the redhead. “I gotta head back to the club.”

She pouted and cozied up to his free arm. He grinned and kissed her forehead. She was a good girl. A fun girl. Hellishly fucking fun from his recollection of the last time he’d spent some hours with her. “Okay, your loss, champ.” It really was. “Maybe next time?”

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