Page 28 of Six
Still, I have this urge to talk to him. And when I notice the slight tension in Ollie’s shoulders, a wave of protectiveness slams into me. In a few strides I’m behind him. I plaster my front to his back, holding in a grunt at the feel of the soft curve of his ass against my balls. I turn my most stern look to the tall fucker in front of him. Ollie goes rigid, snapping his head up, which reaches my shoulder. As soon as he realizes it’s me, he instantly relaxes. It pleases me greatly.
He smirks at me and then lets his head fall on my collarbone, turning toward the guy again. The fucker has dropped his hand from Ollie’s arm and is looking warily between us. I know him. He’s Scorpion’s manager; I’ve seen him around at the factory.A shifty, slimy dude with beady eyes and a receding hairline. What is he doing talking to Ollie?
“Hulk. You finally made it.”
I growl menacingly at him, and he takes a few steps back.
“Think about what I said,” he tells Ollie. The sly way he’s looking at him rubs me the wrong way. But before I can do anything, he quickly leaves without daring to look at me.Chickenshit!
I lower my head, waiting for Ollie to look up. When he doesn’t, I grab his chin and angle his face toward me, raising a brow at him.
“What?” he huffs with annoyance, puckering his lips. The boy has a fucking beautiful mouth. More so at the end of our kiss, all roughed up, spit slicked, and swollen red. His pretty eyes are on my mouth as well. Is he reliving the wild, frantic way we kissed as vividly as I am? When he licks his lips and his gaze turns darker, I have my answer.
Still, the protectiveness wins against my lust.
“What was that about? With Scorpion’s manager?” I toss my duffle bag on the bench closer to me.
“Who, Bill? He’s a friend of…my old man.” He pauses on the wordfriendlike he wants to say something else. But he doesn’t. I know that Richard Truman, Ollie’s father, is mixed up in drugs and prostitution. He must have some kind of arrangement with Bill. I also know Ollie works with his father at times. The fact that he’s fighting in the illegal ring proves that. But according to Rami, word on the street is that Ollie hates him. So, why work for him? Don’t like the answers popping up inside my head.
Gripping his chin more firmly, I ask him, “When are you going to cancel the fight against Scorpion?”
He stiffens and narrows his eyes at me. The brown spot in his left orb almost sparkles under the white lights of the locker room.
“Why do you care?” His voice is full of suspicion and caution. Like he’s only used to conniving people. Doesn’t he have anybody who takes care of him?I could do that.The sudden thought fills me with purpose.
“Why?” he repeats.
The truth? I cannot unsee the pictures of those young boys’ battered, lifeless bodies lying among trash and metal waste. The callous way they were used and dumped shows the true cruel colors of whoever is behind it. The thought of Ollie becoming one of them makes my blazing hot anger come straight to the surface. Dangerously so.
But I can’t tell him any of that. Can’t blow my cover. “It’s an uneven fight,” I say between gritted teeth.
The light in his eyes dims slightly. “I’m stronger than I look. Didn’t I prove that already?” He licks his lips suggestively. A grunt escapes me when he grinds his plump booty cheeks against my hardening cock. I feel the movement right to my throbbing balls, and it's so good. My thumb starts mindlessly brushing his lower lip, the tip getting wet with his saliva.
“I can do it again,” he offers, licking the end of my finger. “Beauty seems to like the idea.” He strokes my erection up and down between his cheeks, as if he needs to show me how interested my beauty…dick is. The nickname is ridiculous and flattering at the same time. I can’t think of one person daring enough to name my dick.
“Then why did you run the other night?” My hand grabs his hip, fingers sinking in. His booty massage stops, and he pushes away from me. Don’t like the sudden distance, but I let him go. My hard cock strongly disagrees with me.
“I didn’t run. I just wasn’t in the mood for chitchat,” he says matter-of-factly, turning around to look straight at me. The kitty is showing his claws again. He’s also lying to me again, and I don’t fucking like it.
Donors always lie, but they do it because they are scum and don’t want to die. What’s Ollie’s reason? He doesn’t look uneasy around me, but he’s prickly and defensive, with his arms crossed over his chest. And so damn brokenly beautiful.
“Cancel the fight,” I order him.
His light green eyes turn hard, then he lets his arms drop to his sides, and without a word, heads toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Exercising,” he replies without stopping. When he walks past me, that sweet honey scent of his reaches my nose again. What would it be like to wake up with it on my pillow?
I blink and find myself alone in the room. I guess a bit of extra training would be good, and while exercising, I can keep an eye on Lenny’s office. I grab a towel and a bottle of water, and place my bag in one of the lockers.
As soon as I leave the changing room and step among the machines, my eyes go to Ollie. He’s on the treadmill, pumping his strong legs in a steady run, the defined muscles in his arms flexing with the swinging movement. The loose black shorts he’s wearing leave his athletic calves bare, covered in fine brown hair—so he has got some. His sneakers are flying on the moving black belt. Running has never been my thing. Looks boring, and I’ve never seen the appeal…until now. Now, I’m staring mesmerized at Ollie’s fluid, rhythmic, graceful moves. Ogling that bouncy ass and imagining it making the same jiggling movement against my pumping cock.
There’re other people training around us, not many, but I don’t want to attract too much attention to me or Ollie. Taking my gaze away from him, I roll my head back and forth on my shoulders and make my way to one of the sandbags a few feet away. I drop the towel and bottle on a nearby bench and keep my eyes firmly on the red leathery bag as I start to slam my fists into it. The chain it’s hanging on rattles as I hit the side like a roundhouse and then deliver some gut jabs. The sack turns into Lenny, screaming in pain, sobbing, bloody, and defeated, terror filling his expression. I pound it harder and sigh contently at the violent image, taking another deep breath.
A guy comes over and offers to hold the sandbag while I punch it. I snarl a no, glaring at him as he scrambles and backs away. My large size combined with my angry glower can turn handy at times, a fairly quick problem-solving tool, and it keeps most people the fuck away. Except Ollie. He takes it as a challenge.
I chance a glance his way. He’s still on the treadmill, but his eyes are on me, and a small smirk curls his lips. I like that, feeling his gaze on me.
