Brawler's Baby: An MMA Mob Romance (Mob City Book 1) by Holly Hart Page B
Authors: Holly Hart
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pleasure on my hyper-sensitive skin. Suddenly an aching, dull pain coursed through my body. I grabbed his hand.
"Stop." I begged anxiously. "Hold up, will you?"
"What's wrong?" He asked, looking at me with eyes tinged with worry. "If you don't want to do this…"
8
M aya
I cut him off, the concern I saw in his expression tearing me up inside. He cared – he truly cared, even if it'd take far more for him to actually admit it. No, the last thing I wanted was for this to stop, especially now I had him back in my life again after so many years apart.
"It's not like that, it's just…" I croaked, before tailing off, desperately searching for a way to phrase what I needed to ask without giving away the secret that I'd kept from him for so long – if only out of necessity – and which now hung so heavily on my mind. I jutted my chin toward the light switch, folding my hands across my chest protectively.
"The light in here's horrible."
It wasn't exactly a lie – the light cast by the bare lightbulb was bright, harsh and overpowering, but I sure wasn't telling him the whole truth, and nothing but.
Conor leapt athletically to his feet, landing lightly on his toes in a fighter's stance. "You want me to turn it off?" He asked as he stepped toward the light switch and tried to hide the surprise on his face. I'd never been a prude – far from it, so for him my sudden reticence must have come straight out of left field, but he was covering it well. "I've seen you naked before, gal…"
Not like this. I thought, biting my tongue. There would be a time and a place to tell him everything – I hoped – but now wasn't that time.
I just knew I couldn't let him see the marks, or how my body had changed. I wasn't ready, and I didn't know whether Conor ever would be.
Instead, with blood rushing to my face, I confessed to an embarrassing secret. I croaked. "It's been a while since I, you know, got laid. Just do it, okay?"
Conor's eyes flared with what could only be described as an expression of possessive excitement, as though the idea of me lying with another man repulsed him, and the knowledge that I hadn't excited him even further. "You're the boss."
His eyes raked across my body hungrily, causing the self-conscious part of me to imagine that he was searching for the reason I'd stopped him in his tracks. The truth, I knew deep down, was probably far less exciting. Or more, depending on your point of view – he was horny as hell. I could see the outline of his thick cock through his pants, and there was nothing flaccid about it, not now.
The room went dark as Conor flicked the light switch off, returning to the bed with all the speed of a hunting cheetah – except instead of roaming gazelle, I was his prey. And he didn't want to eat me. Not like that, anyway. Now that he had me in his sights, and with the last obstacle in his way dealt with, I knew there'd be no stopping him.
"How's that?" He cooed quietly, the easy Irish calmness in his familiar accent immediately reassuring me that as far as he was concerned, whatever the reason I didn't want him to see me naked was, it couldn't have troubled him less.
"Perfect." I sighed, his hot breath once again tickling my face, and the stiff hairs of his fiery red stubble sensuously scratching against my face.
Permission granted, Conor didn't pause for a second longer, pulling my arms apart and tearing my top off with a fevered, desperate speed. I had a momentary second of panic as I remembered that – since I hadn't expected to end up half-naked on my back tonight in Conor's bed, my bra and panties were about as matching as they were flattering. That is, not very. And that was putting it lightly!
Either the room's darkness hid the offending articles of underwear, or he simply didn't care. Conor had never been a man to get hung up on the little things. Way back when he'd liked it when I dressed up for him.
But like he used to say, " I'd want to fuck you even if I was blind ." I
"Stop." I begged anxiously. "Hold up, will you?"
"What's wrong?" He asked, looking at me with eyes tinged with worry. "If you don't want to do this…"
8
M aya
I cut him off, the concern I saw in his expression tearing me up inside. He cared – he truly cared, even if it'd take far more for him to actually admit it. No, the last thing I wanted was for this to stop, especially now I had him back in my life again after so many years apart.
"It's not like that, it's just…" I croaked, before tailing off, desperately searching for a way to phrase what I needed to ask without giving away the secret that I'd kept from him for so long – if only out of necessity – and which now hung so heavily on my mind. I jutted my chin toward the light switch, folding my hands across my chest protectively.
"The light in here's horrible."
It wasn't exactly a lie – the light cast by the bare lightbulb was bright, harsh and overpowering, but I sure wasn't telling him the whole truth, and nothing but.
Conor leapt athletically to his feet, landing lightly on his toes in a fighter's stance. "You want me to turn it off?" He asked as he stepped toward the light switch and tried to hide the surprise on his face. I'd never been a prude – far from it, so for him my sudden reticence must have come straight out of left field, but he was covering it well. "I've seen you naked before, gal…"
Not like this. I thought, biting my tongue. There would be a time and a place to tell him everything – I hoped – but now wasn't that time.
I just knew I couldn't let him see the marks, or how my body had changed. I wasn't ready, and I didn't know whether Conor ever would be.
Instead, with blood rushing to my face, I confessed to an embarrassing secret. I croaked. "It's been a while since I, you know, got laid. Just do it, okay?"
Conor's eyes flared with what could only be described as an expression of possessive excitement, as though the idea of me lying with another man repulsed him, and the knowledge that I hadn't excited him even further. "You're the boss."
His eyes raked across my body hungrily, causing the self-conscious part of me to imagine that he was searching for the reason I'd stopped him in his tracks. The truth, I knew deep down, was probably far less exciting. Or more, depending on your point of view – he was horny as hell. I could see the outline of his thick cock through his pants, and there was nothing flaccid about it, not now.
The room went dark as Conor flicked the light switch off, returning to the bed with all the speed of a hunting cheetah – except instead of roaming gazelle, I was his prey. And he didn't want to eat me. Not like that, anyway. Now that he had me in his sights, and with the last obstacle in his way dealt with, I knew there'd be no stopping him.
"How's that?" He cooed quietly, the easy Irish calmness in his familiar accent immediately reassuring me that as far as he was concerned, whatever the reason I didn't want him to see me naked was, it couldn't have troubled him less.
"Perfect." I sighed, his hot breath once again tickling my face, and the stiff hairs of his fiery red stubble sensuously scratching against my face.
Permission granted, Conor didn't pause for a second longer, pulling my arms apart and tearing my top off with a fevered, desperate speed. I had a momentary second of panic as I remembered that – since I hadn't expected to end up half-naked on my back tonight in Conor's bed, my bra and panties were about as matching as they were flattering. That is, not very. And that was putting it lightly!
Either the room's darkness hid the offending articles of underwear, or he simply didn't care. Conor had never been a man to get hung up on the little things. Way back when he'd liked it when I dressed up for him.
But like he used to say, " I'd want to fuck you even if I was blind ." I
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