Page 15 of Fighter

We’re a hot mess of sweat and sex. She shivers and shakes her head, letting her hair spill down over my head. She’s moving with me now, and I know what’s coming.

Her.

“Come on that cock,” I whisper, my lips against hers. “Let me feel that pussy clamp down on my cock.”

“I – I’m so close, Maximus!”

“Do it,” I urge her as her juicy pussy gets even tighter on my girth. “I want you to, baby.”

“I – I’m co—” But the words never leave her lips. Her teeth clench down and she slams down into my lap as her climax hits her. I feel her cervix on the tip of my dick and press down, applying more pressure to make sure she takes it all.

A moan stutters out of her mouth as she wraps her arms around me and when she starts to kiss my neck, I go over the edge too.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” I growl. I thought I’d be able to last longer, but I underestimated just how badly I wanted her. My cock flexes and I feel the hot rush of my cum as it sprays inside her.

“Oh! I feel it!” Sam grinds harder down on me as I come inside her, filling her with all the seed I’ve had saved up while preparing for the fight. My hands clench down on her ass so hard I think I might be hurting her, but I can’t stop. I clench my teeth as my cock pumps inside her fresh pussy, and I groan long and hard as I make her mine for good.

I come harder than I’ve ever come before and coat her insides with my cum. Blissful growls rumble through my chest as I take a deep breath and pull her close, feeling her warm, young breasts against my sweaty chest.

This is where she belongs – now and forever. There’s no question in my mind.

“Hey, just so you know,” I whisper. “You’re never getting away from me now.”

I feel Sam’s lips against my neck as they twist into a smile. She pulls back and looks at me with those beautiful eyes of hers and smiles.

“Good. I don’t want to.”

Epilogue

Samantha

Three years later…

Maximus is hitting the bag when I come downstairs holding Terry, our baby boy, in my arms. He’s sleepy and resting his head against my shoulder, but I want him to see his father before I put him down for the night.

“Wanna say goodnight to your son?”

Maximus throws one last punch and looks up and smiles. Nothing makes me happier than seeing the look on his face when he sees his son. Wiping his face with a towel, Maximus strides over to us, leans in, and kisses Terry on his cheek. Terry’s pretty much asleep, but he smiles and lets out a little giggle.

“He’s a tired boy.” Maximus grins. I love how proud he is of his son. Nothing makes me feel more like a woman than when we are together as a family.

“Oh, I’ve been chasing him around all day,” I laugh softly.

“I’ll go clean up and meet you upstairs,” Max tells me. I nod and bring Terry to his nursery on the second floor. I glance at the living room and frown at the sunset painting over the new couch.

I’ll have to replace that. I was in such a rush to turn Maximus’ cold house into a warm family home that I scrambled for anything that I could get my hands on to liven things up, but the sunset painting just isn’t doing it for me anymore. I make a mental note to take Max to the store tomorrow and get his input.

Terry lets out one of his sweet little tired sighs as I put him down, and I can’t resist taking a quick picture of him with my camera before leaving the room. I don’t have an Instagram, but if I did, I know what it would be filled with.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been three years since Max and I first met. I can’t even believe that it was at a strip club, of all places. I tell everyone I know that we met at a bookstore. People give me funny looks sometimes, and I know what they’re thinking.

Him? That guy in a bookstore?

But I just lie and tell them he was there for a coffee.

I never went back to the club, of course. Maximus just kept winning fights, and the month after our first time, I was pregnant. He told me that with him by his side, he’d never lose again, and so far, that’s been the case. He’s making so much money now that he hopes to retire in a year and open his own gym, which I am fully supportive of. As much as I like being married to a tough guy, it still pains me when he comes home with a bruise or a cut on his gorgeous face.

I yelp as Max slips up behind me, grabs me by the waist, and hauls me into the bedroom. “Come on, you little minx. I’m all sweaty.”

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