The F King:A Bad Boy Romance(34)

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, that presence I felt. Maybe it  was the fact that he was the hottest man I'd ever laid eyes on and he  was only wearing a towel.

Whatever it was, that part of me had kicked a hole in the side of its  box and was yelling at me to reach out and run my hands all over that  perfection. I gulped, because that's exactly what I was supposed to do,  in my professional capacity.

"Hmmm. Too bad. All those rules, huh?" he said.

No doubt he was talking about the rules concerning no sleeping with the  fighters. I got that talk during my induction right after the fire  safety lecture. Despite that, if rumors were true, then Austin had taken  liberties with more than one ring girl in his time with the NHBFC.

The tattooed fighter walked over to the massage table and climbed on,  leaving me in a daze for a few seconds before I followed. There was a  fully-stocked basket of massage oils on a shelf underneath, and I pulled  one out at random while he settled himself in.

I poured a little on to one palm and rubbed my hands together to warm  everything up. That was lesson one in the massage course I took earlier  in the year, and although there hadn't been anything in that lesson  about chanting "professional, professional, professional" in your mind, I  did that for a moment too, before I touched him.

Even his back was roped with well-defined muscles and tattoos, enough to  make a girl blush. In my course, we'd always had same-sex massage  partners. Michelle, the girl in my class, felt nothing like this.

There was just so much of him to touch.

You mean apply therapeutic massage techniques to, my conscience chided me. Yes, that.

I had to get more oil to get enough coverage on that broad back, but  once everything was sliding nicely, I lost myself in the thoughts that  forced their way into my mind. Honestly, I could have happily done this  for hours, without a care in the world, until I felt something I  shouldn't have felt while on the job.

Between my legs. What was that? Oh no! I was absolutely, undeniably,  wet. I glanced around nervously, as if Gordon might be there with my  final paycheck in his hand, but there was nobody else in the room.         

     



 

Maybe Austin felt me lose my rhythm, because he chose that exact moment to make my predicament even worse.

"Hop on. Straddle me. You're not getting enough pressure on from the side."

"Um …  I'll j-just try harder, sorry."

The prizefighter, who had all his professional wins so far via  submission, lifted his head and looked at me with unbendable will in his  eyes. "You sure you work here? I said hop on."

"OK, sorry. Please don't say anything, I need this job. I …  I didn't know how things were done over on this side."

Austin rested his head down again, and I climbed up as carefully as if I  was crawling on paper-thin ice. Positioning myself over him, I set one  knee down on either side of his hips.

He was right, I was definitely able to apply more pressure this way, but  I couldn't say much for my technique anymore, because all I could think  about was how there was two-hundred and thirty pounds of world-class  athlete between my legs.

As I did the best job I could, sparing some attention for his shoulders  and upper arms, I noticed him slowly moving his feet apart. This made my  kneeling stance wider, and brought my most private place closer to  resting on him.

My body was rebelling. That was the only explanation for it. Years of  pent-up frustration was threatening to burst through the dam, and that  ever-increasing slickness between my legs was the evidence.

Every time I moved, my panties shifted and rubbed faintly against my  clit, sending tingles quietly echoing around my body and settling in my  belly. I had no idea how long I was supposed to massage him for, but if  he made me keep doing this, I was almost certainly going to suffer the  embarrassment of having an orgasm on top of him, and then lose my job.

That thought did its best to dampen the excitement that was coursing  through me, and didn't quite manage it. I could feel my jaw quivering as  if I was cold, from the sheer effort it was taking to not subtly grind  myself against him to relieve this insane pressure.

Please, let me get through this. Please let me keep my job. Please don't make me go home to my dad.

If anybody was listening, it certainly wasn't Austin. Instead of ending my torture, he shifted under me.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I moved myself as high on my knees as I could.

"Now the front," he said.

"I- I don't … "

I'd never massaged the front in my classes and I had no idea what you  were supposed to do. Austin had some ideas though, and took hold of my  wrists, placing my hands on his chest and making me lean forward.

My palms were still slick with the massage oil, and they slid across his  taut skin easily as he slowly moved them downwards along the same trail  my eyes had followed earlier. I felt every bump of his abs as my  fingers paused in each crevice between those well-defined muscles before  slipping to the next one.

Then I looked down further, where those converging lines of his lower  abdominals were pointing, and somebody fired a butterfly cannon in my  stomach. His towel had come untucked!

I could see bare skin from his stomach down to his thigh, with that one  part of a man I was especially forbidden to think about barely hidden by  the towel. It was making a huge bulge in that token cover, and it was  right under me! I felt another flush, this one centered between my legs,  making me feel hot down there. There was only one thing in the world  that could quench that fire.

"Please," I breathed, desperately wanting to let go for once, to give in. "Don't make me … "

What? Don't make me cum? Don't make me lose my job? All of the above and more?





Austin





Motherfucking jackpot. There is nothing I like more than destroying some  asshole who thought he was a tough guy and then sliding my cock into  some tight wet pussy. Fucking and fighting was my bread and butter, and I  always ate my fill.

Coming out of the shower to this chick was a breath of fresh air, after  seeing the usual pop-star wannabe groupies already waiting outside my  door when I came back after the fight. She forgot to introduce herself  but the name on her, possibly stolen, name-badge said "Skylar" and she  was fuckin' smoking hot.

Unlike the girls in the hallway, Skylar wasn't wearing a lick of make-up  as far as I could see, and she was still perfect in this cute  girl-next-door kind of way. Every girl I fucked had their mind blown,  but Skylar looked like she hadn't been around the block too many times.  She'd be certifiably insane by the time I was halfway done with her.

Her sleek blonde hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, showing off  a face that was innocence personified, except for those pouty lips that  looked like they were made to suck my cock. She had perfect skin and  sparkly eyes wide with awe, taking in the view as I exited the bathroom  in my towel.         

     



 

Glancing down, I saw the promising swell of her chest that even the dull  grey uniform couldn't hide. I was going to make those tits bounce when I  fucked her good and hard.

Best of all, she looked like she was doing her best to fight her  attraction. Out there, in the cage, I broke arms and I broke men, but  when it came to fucking it was always pure sexual ecstasy for me when  the girls broke themselves.

I'd lost count of the women who knew me, knew my reputation, saw the  tats and the physique and then caved and let me fuck them against their  better judgement anyway. That embarrassed shame on their faces, when  they had the hardest orgasm of their lives, was just as good as making  grown men tap out in the ring. You could say that submission was my  specialty in all facets of my life.

The corner of my mouth threatened to pull up in a smirk when I saw the  purity ring on her finger. What a joke. Maybe that was the reason she  was fighting herself so hard, but I'd never met a woman who could win  this fight when I set my mind on her.

Damn, a sexy little virgin. This girl was too good a conquest to just  bend over and fuck where she stood. I decided to prolong her internal  battle and get that massage first.

Whenever I took my shirt off, women got this look on their faces. They  tried to hide it from their husbands and boyfriends, if they were  present. Skylar was trying to hide it even from herself, but there was  no going back once they felt my body, once they got an idea about what  an athlete like me could do to them.

So I climbed on that massage table, and soon enough her hands were  sliding all over my back and arms. My eyes were closed, but I could  imagine the look on her face. The desperation not to give in, the wonder  of exploration, all mixed up with that pure innocence of hers.

I was already getting hard by the time I made her climb on top of me.  She was doing a fine job from the side, but I wanted her to spread her  legs for me even before it was time to fuck that virginity of hers into  the history books.