Bastard’s Baby(82)

“Shit,” she gasped, grabbing my hair. “Seriously. Where did you learn all this?”

“You pick things up when you live as hard as I do.”

I slipped a finger deep inside her and watched her eyes close in ecstasy.

“I fight for a living, babe. I put my body on the line for fun. I’ve figured out what I like and how to get it.”

“But why me?” she gasped as I began to kiss her neck, pistoning my fingers deep inside her the way I knew she loved.

It was a good question. Why her? I could have been fucking a new girl every night. It wasn’t like it was hard, especially in fucking paradise.

But for some insane reason, the second I got a taste of her, I needed more. I couldn’t stop myself from getting her off again and again and again. I loved the way sweat rolled down her chest as I worked her body hard and rough, my mouth and fingers all over her, not caring how loud she was.

“Because that’s what I want, and I get what I want,” I whispered to her, pressing my tongue harder against her spot.

Weeks later, in the dead of night, I’d remember the gasp she made as I nibbled her slightly and slipped another finger deep inside her.

Alexa. I’d remember that name when things got rough. It was torture sometimes, remembering that sweet pussy, knowing I’d never see it again. I knew that I just needed to get back to civilization to forget about her, move on to some new stranger.

But despite that, I kept thinking, wondering, where my fake wife was. And if I’d ever get to taste that pussy again.

Still, I was in Thailand for a reason. After the vacation was over, I took a bus out into the countryside, out into the fucking jungle, to meet with one of the greatest Muay Thai fighters in the whole country.

It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Skad was legendary in the fighting community, and he took only three students every year for an intensive training course. Every one of his students had gone on to do special things, and so I knew that I could catapult my career into stardom if I could get his training.

I was lucky. He must have watched the tape I sent him, because I was invited out only a few weeks after I sent it. I wasn’t sure what he saw in me, but I figured I was about to find out.

And it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The word “intensive” didn’t do it justice. We lived, breathed, ate, fucked, and shit fighting. Learning Skad’s techniques, training under his tutelage, was the air we breathed and the food we ate. There were no cellphones, no Internet, no television, nothing.

There was only violence and hard work.

And I fucking thrived on it.

I was a hard man before I met Skad. I grew up in the octagon, training from a young age. I used to get in street fights just to test my skills. I was undefeated and had a reputation for violent aggression, a reputation I loved and built lovingly for myself.

But I was nothing compared to the man Skad made me. Before I was all untapped potential. I had so much more inside me but couldn’t get to it. Skad refined my edges, made me faster and more dangerous. Skad changed me from a talented fighter to a deadly killer.

All it cost me was a single year of my life.



* * *



I thought I was ready to come back to civilization. Compared to the deep silence of the jungle, though, the airport was like a chaotic mess of sights and sounds and noises.

There were people everywhere. I hadn’t seen more than a handful of people my entire time out in the jungle, and suddenly I was shoved into a crowd of total strangers.

But it was my time, and I knew it. As soon as Skad said I was ready, I got back on that bus and got my ass to civilization.

There was only so much time I could spend in the jungle before I completely lost my fucking mind.

Still, the crowds of cow-eyed people annoyed the shit out of me as I made my way across the terminal and toward baggage claim. I was meeting my mother, or at least my mother’s driver, out front. I was running a little late already, which was of course going to be blamed on me and not on the airline.

My mother was a hard ass. We got along if you considered not talking often as getting along. When we did talk, it was mainly about her work since she basically ignored my fighting career.

Fine by me. I didn’t need or particularly want my mother’s approval.

Once I found the driver, I gave him directions to my storage unit just outside the city. He gave me a look like it was the last thing he wanted to do, but I slipped him a twenty and hopped into the back.

Apparently, that was enough. We were on the road, heading toward my destination.

The plan was simple. I had a bunch of shit kept at the storage unit, the most important of which was my motorcycle. I’d drop my bag off there and take the bike over to my mother’s new husband’s place, pay my respects, and then be done with that.