up against my stomach.
Maybe that’s why I do the craziest, stupidest, most reckless thing I’ve ever done. I look up at Beast and say “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
There is something I can do, and we both know what it is. So when Beast grabs my arm and practically drags me towards the locker room, I know what’s going to happen next. And even though I haven’t fully admitted it to myself yet, I can’t wait.
Chapter 2: Emma
This is the part where I wake up, right? Where I sit up in bed, roll my eyes at how repressed I am, and hop into the shower to try and clean the sweat of a sex dream off my body?
I mean, this can’t be real. The sweaty, inked up mountain of muscle currently pulling me into the nearest locker room to fuck makes the Greek gods look like couch potatoes. I’m probably in bed right now, tossing and turning and sleep-humping my pillow.
Ow! I stub my toe on a folding chair carelessly placed in the middle of the aisle and send it clattering to the floor as I wince in pain. So much for this being a dream.
Beast looks back, his perfect lips curled into a smirk. “Are you alright back there?”
“Yep!” I say, my voice hitting some ridiculously high octave as I start to turn pink.
Yep!? What am I, a cartoon duck?
“Alright, if you say so. Let me know if you need me to carry you.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
So this is actually happening. I really did just offer myself to an MMA fighter after exchanging only a few words with him, most of which were about his cock. Gina would be so proud.
As we get closer to the locker room, posters line the walls. Guys with names like Barracuda, Tank, and Painquake glare at me and flex their muscles as I pass. Underneath each fighter are the words “California Kings Underground MMA.” Finally, right at the locker room door, there’s a poster for Beast: hands behind his head, flexing his ridiculous biceps, and giving the camera an obnoxiously cocky smile. Something tells me that this guy’s more full of himself than a snake eating its own tail, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering how it would feel to be full of him .
Suddenly, Beast stops outside the locker room door, causing me to practically slam into him.
“Whoa, slow down, babe. Wait until we’re in private.” He grins at me like a cat with a mouse trapped under its paw and opens the locker room door for me.
If this didn’t feel real before, the smell of sweat and body spray drenching the locker room makes it feel 100% real as I step inside. I take a few steps into the room as fantasies flood my mind. What’s he going to do to me? Slam me up against those lockers on the left wall and fuck me standing up? Make me get down on all fours and stick my ass in the air for him?
He’s probably done this a hundred times: takes the nearest girl back here and fucks her stupid. Makes her scream his name. I hope he doesn’t mind that I’m not the type of girl who normally finds herself in this situation.
I look behind me and see Beast leaning against the back wall, arms folded up against his washboard abs, with a bulge that looks like it’s about to disintegrate his tiny little black shorts if he makes one wrong move. His eyes feel their way up my curves, sizing up his catch.
So…uh…what happens now? Why isn’t he coming over here and fucking me? Is there something I need to do?
I try and put myself in the mindset of an underground MMA groupie, with limited success. Eventually, I put my hands on the bench in the middle of the room, stick my ass out for Beast, and say, “Ready when you are.”
Almost immediately, I feel Beast’s body pushing up against me, thick, muscular, and heaving with his breaths. Then, his hands seize my body and he spins me around like I weigh less than a feather.
“What’s your name?” he asks, lifting my face up so I’m looking straight into his blazing green
Maybe that’s why I do the craziest, stupidest, most reckless thing I’ve ever done. I look up at Beast and say “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
There is something I can do, and we both know what it is. So when Beast grabs my arm and practically drags me towards the locker room, I know what’s going to happen next. And even though I haven’t fully admitted it to myself yet, I can’t wait.
Chapter 2: Emma
This is the part where I wake up, right? Where I sit up in bed, roll my eyes at how repressed I am, and hop into the shower to try and clean the sweat of a sex dream off my body?
I mean, this can’t be real. The sweaty, inked up mountain of muscle currently pulling me into the nearest locker room to fuck makes the Greek gods look like couch potatoes. I’m probably in bed right now, tossing and turning and sleep-humping my pillow.
Ow! I stub my toe on a folding chair carelessly placed in the middle of the aisle and send it clattering to the floor as I wince in pain. So much for this being a dream.
Beast looks back, his perfect lips curled into a smirk. “Are you alright back there?”
“Yep!” I say, my voice hitting some ridiculously high octave as I start to turn pink.
Yep!? What am I, a cartoon duck?
“Alright, if you say so. Let me know if you need me to carry you.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
So this is actually happening. I really did just offer myself to an MMA fighter after exchanging only a few words with him, most of which were about his cock. Gina would be so proud.
As we get closer to the locker room, posters line the walls. Guys with names like Barracuda, Tank, and Painquake glare at me and flex their muscles as I pass. Underneath each fighter are the words “California Kings Underground MMA.” Finally, right at the locker room door, there’s a poster for Beast: hands behind his head, flexing his ridiculous biceps, and giving the camera an obnoxiously cocky smile. Something tells me that this guy’s more full of himself than a snake eating its own tail, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering how it would feel to be full of him .
Suddenly, Beast stops outside the locker room door, causing me to practically slam into him.
“Whoa, slow down, babe. Wait until we’re in private.” He grins at me like a cat with a mouse trapped under its paw and opens the locker room door for me.
If this didn’t feel real before, the smell of sweat and body spray drenching the locker room makes it feel 100% real as I step inside. I take a few steps into the room as fantasies flood my mind. What’s he going to do to me? Slam me up against those lockers on the left wall and fuck me standing up? Make me get down on all fours and stick my ass in the air for him?
He’s probably done this a hundred times: takes the nearest girl back here and fucks her stupid. Makes her scream his name. I hope he doesn’t mind that I’m not the type of girl who normally finds herself in this situation.
I look behind me and see Beast leaning against the back wall, arms folded up against his washboard abs, with a bulge that looks like it’s about to disintegrate his tiny little black shorts if he makes one wrong move. His eyes feel their way up my curves, sizing up his catch.
So…uh…what happens now? Why isn’t he coming over here and fucking me? Is there something I need to do?
I try and put myself in the mindset of an underground MMA groupie, with limited success. Eventually, I put my hands on the bench in the middle of the room, stick my ass out for Beast, and say, “Ready when you are.”
Almost immediately, I feel Beast’s body pushing up against me, thick, muscular, and heaving with his breaths. Then, his hands seize my body and he spins me around like I weigh less than a feather.
“What’s your name?” he asks, lifting my face up so I’m looking straight into his blazing green
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