The F King: A Bad Boy Romance(86)

I took a deep breath. “Business.”

“What?”

“This is business, right? Well let’s make some fuckin’ money. Sanchez, let’s say that instead of submitting him like usual… I knock him out in the third. I always win by submission, nobody will see that coming, big payout. Then I get my title shot and you back me to win that. The odds are going to be long on that one. Nobody’s beaten him in ten years, but he’s never fought anybody like me.”

Enrico sat back and tented his fingers in front of himself while he thought about it. “I don’t know, kid. It’s not good business to back somebody to win, you can’t control that the way you can the other way round.”

“No fee for us on the Sanchez fight. I can fuck him up, no problem.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ross looking at me incredulously. I kept my focus on Enrico though, as did Renato.

Enrico rubbed his chin and tilted his head from side to side, eyes turned up to the ceiling. “OK, fine. You fight for free. Sanchez gets knocked out cold in the third.”

He held out his hand and I shook it.

“Pleasure, as always,” said Enrico. “Let’s get outta here, guys, let the killer get some rest. Big fight comin’ up.”

Enrico and Renato filed out, Ken stayed behind for a second until they were out of earshot.

“Hey man, I wanted to give you a congrats on the wedding, she looks like a nice girl.”

“Thanks.”

“You wanna do me a favor and not make them tell me to shoot you?”

“Fuck them, man. Who’s that Renato guy anyway?” I asked.

“Fuckin’ Picollis. Shit went real bad for them in Port Magnus and now they’re all over the place here. Buncha cocksuckers.”

“I believe it.”

“See you around.”

“Bye.”

Ken followed the others while Ross gave me the stinkeye until the front door was closed and locked behind them.

“Great negotiating. I could have done with a new car after this Sanchez fight. Now what?”

“I’ll double your cut on the Southgate fight, don’t worry,” I said.

“I see. But first, we need you, a submission specialist, to knock out Ernesto Sanchez, a former kickboxing world champion. Correct?”

“I’ve got a plan.”





Skylar





Vegas, baby! I’d never been before and now I was going in style, flying first class with Austin. Apparently not many airlines even had a first class service anymore, that luxurious section I’d walked through on my way to economy on previous flights was actually just business class.

This was a whole other level of awesome. There were only six areas in the first class cabin, and they literally were areas rather than seats, cordoned off from each other by half-height walls like office cubicles. Only one of the other areas was occupied, by a little old lady that held her hand up to her ear and said “Heh?” any time an air hostess tried to ask her anything.

Everything looked like it had been designed by the most artistic space-age engineers on the planet. Everywhere you looked there was something that folded up, slid out, twisted around or tilted to change its functionality or maximize space. Instead of cheap plastic and tired fabric, it was all perfectly maintained, with organic curves, sleek lines and seamless joints between different things.

The late flight was going to arrive in Las Vegas at around four in the morning. As such, we had a kind of light dinner service. The food was amazing and came on actual plates, though the utensils were still plastic.

Something was up with Austin, though. We’d been married for about a month, and in that time I thought I must have had about as much sex as the average woman has in her lifetime. A couple days ago, basking in some afterglow and pillow-talk, I’d plucked up my courage and asked him for something I’d never dreamed of asking anybody.

I said, the next time he fucked me, I wanted him to call me a slut, a whore, every name under the sun, and when he did it, I wanted him to fuck me rough. Harder than he ever had before.

My request was met with a thick silence, but when I dared look up at him, there was no disgust or judgement on his face, just a thoughtful expression… and a twitch under the sheets that turned into a tent-pole. With the kind of relentless assault on my pussy he’d shown me over the past month I half expected him to grant my request right away, as if he’d already been holding himself back.

But he didn’t. In fact, he did exactly the opposite, and he hadn’t fucked me since. After nineteen years of no sex at all, Austin had rewired my brain since we’d been together and my body craved his attention almost constantly now.