Page 36 of Tempting Her Grumpy Protector
When he was fully naked, the attendants had him step on the end of the board.
“Get ready,” one advised him. “The Chieftain doesn’t hesitate—he’ll come for you as soon as the whistle blows.”
Greer nodded thanks for the advice but before he could answer, the referee—a Thropp’ian male wearing a bright pink feathery headdress—started talking loudly.
“Now, then—the rules are simple: you must knock your opponent off the board into the slime to win. If both of you go in, the one to climb out of the pit first claims the victory. Do you understand?”
“Got it.” Greer nodded shortly. He could smell the green slime in the pit now—it had a sharp, almost medicinal smell like some kind of antiseptic. He wondered if it was corrosive? It must be if it ate through clothing, he thought. He was going to try really hard not to fall in.
“Are you ready, Protector?” Chief Lowhung sneered at him from the other end of the board. “Ready to lose your woman? Tonight she will warm my bed. I’ll fuck her so hard she won’t be able to walk for a week!”
Greer didn’t say a thing. He just narrowed his eyes and glared at the other male. There was no way in all the Seven Hells he was giving Sunny up. This three-eyed, bright blue bastard was about to go down.
“Ready yourselves…and…go!”
The referee blew on a carved wooden whistle that made a high, warbling sound, and Chief Lowhung lunged immediately, just as the attendant had warned he would. Greer—who had taken off his boots as well as his clothes for better balance—rushed forward as well. He grabbed the Chief by the shoulders as the other male strove to lock his own arms around Greer’s waist. The board wobbled under their combined weight as they grappled, each trying to throw the other off balance.
For a moment, Greer was sure he was winning. He was forcing the other male to the side, making him lose his footing. He was just about to shove the arrogant Thropp’ian Chief into the pit of green slime when Lowhung’s foot hooked behind Greer’s knee.
“No, you bastard!” Greer grunted.
He was suddenly off balance and he realized that the Chief didn’t care if he went into the pit as long as he dragged Greer with him. Though he tried to get free of the other male’s grip, Lowhung was surprisingly strong. Hands locked on Greer’s forearms, he threw them both to the side. With a sickening sploosh sound, they both went over and into the green goo.
Greer soon found the slime was worse than it looked. It clung like wet tar, irritating his skin. It didn’t burn exactly—not yet—but he could tell if he didn’t get out of it quickly, it would start to.
He kicked for the surface, but suddenly he felt the Chief’s hand lock around his ankle and start yanking him down. The bastard was trying to cheat—trying to keep him under long enough to lose!
With a snarl, Greer twisted, planting a foot against the Chief’s chest and shoving off. He broke free, clawed for the edge, and hauled himself up just as the Chief’s hand slapped against the pit rim.
With a grunt, Greer pushed up and out of the pit. He climbed out, dripping with slime as Chief Lowhung was still scrambling over the edge.
“I declare the off-worlder to be the winner!” The referee shouted.
The crowd of Thropp’ians roared as he blew his whistle again, signifying the end of the contest.
“Oh, Greer—you did it! You won!”
Sunny rushed up to hug him, her bare breasts jiggling distractingly, but he held out a hand to keep her back.
“Not now, little one. I’m a fucking mess and this slime stuff burns!”
“Stand back and we will clean your Protector,” a Thropp’ian male said to her. Sunny stepped backwards and several males bearing buckets of clean water stepped forward.
Greer didn’t linger—he wanted that stuff off him now. It really was starting to burn. The attendants doused him over and over, washing away the acidic slime until it was completely out of his hair and off his skin. He blew out a breath and ran his hands over his hair, squeezing out as much water as he could before accepting a broad, fuzzy leaf from someone which must be the Thropp’ian version of a bath towel.
Beside him, Chief Lowhung was also getting doused and cleaned up.
“Well fought,” he said to Greer, grinning far too wide. “I must admit—you won the wrestling match.”
Greer nodded a brief thanks, though he felt like punching the other male instead. The fucker would have been happy to drown him in the slime if he’d been able to.
“And now,” the Chief continued, as he toweled himself off vigorously. “You may prove your victory by pleasuring the lovely female you won during our contest.”
Greer was in the act of pulling his trousers and boots back on but now he froze.
“What do you mean, prove my victory?” he demanded.
“Ah—you will see, my friend.” The Chief lifted his triple-lidded gaze to the crowd and called, “A winner has been declared! Bring the Chair of Female Pleasure!”
