Page 24 of Fighter Daddy's Girl

“Yes, Daddy,” I gasp. “Fill me up.”

He trembles and holds himself above me in his arms, sweat dotting his brow. His face is still red, and he’s panting, but he looks down at me with a look caught somewhere between awe and adoration. Griffin leans down and kisses me tenderly.

“You are amazing,” he says.

“We’re amazing,” I reply, still trying to catch my own breath.

Griffin flops onto his back and pulls me on top of him. I lay my head on his chest and trace circles on his flat, taut belly with the tip of my finger. The blip with Professor Bryson aside, tonight has been perfect. Utterly perfect. And as I listen to the hard, steady rhythm of Griffin’s heart in his chest, I already know I’m losing mine to him.

12

GRIFFIN

“How are you feeling, champ?”

“I’m good to go,” I tell him. “I’m ready.”

“You look ready. You look good.”

I nod. “I’m good.”

Ray Mackey was my agent back when I was working my way through the pro game. He’s a good guy and always looked out for me. He hated to see me drop out when my mom got sick, but he understood and always kept an ear open for opportunities for me.

“You nervous?” he asks.

“Me? Nah.”

Ray smirks. “You sure?”

“I’m good, man.”

“Good lad,” he says and pats me on the shoulder.

I’ve always loved fighting, and like I told Grace, it’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. I’ve always believed I can beat anybody. And I always did. I’m confident in my abilities and never get nervous before a fight.

Tonight is different. We’ve got a nice purse—five grand—but I’m not here for the money. No, I’m here for something more. Tonight is the culmination of everything I’ve been working so hard to build before walking away. Tonight is my second chance to get where I want to be in life. To achieve my dream. So yeah, I’m nervous as fuck.

I don’t know the fighter I’m going up against. He’s not somebody who trains in my gym or fights on the underground circuit I’ve been working through. I haven’t even been able to study film on the guy—his camp refused to give us access to his tape. That makes me nervous. I don’t like going into a fight blind like this. They used to call me a technician in the ring, but part of that is because I studied my opponents and broke down all their habits and tendencies. I knew how they were going to move and what they were going to do in any given situation and simply countered that, then beat them to the punch.

“What can you tell me about this guy I’m fighting?” I ask.

Ray perches on the bench across from me and purses his lips. “Dominic Caprisi. He’s twenty-five, and he’s fast. You’ve got a couple of inches and twenty pounds on him. He’s solid as a boxer, but watch out for his legs. He’s got a hell of a kick, and once he gets you on the ground, it’s lights out. He’s forced his last six opponents to submit. He’s dangerous, and his star is on the rise.”

“So, the promoters are really here to see him,” I say dryly.

“And just think about how good it’s going to look if you beat their new golden boy,” he tells me with a shrug. “Yeah, they want to see Dom, but they’re also here because they want to see how much you have left in the tank, kid. They’re here to see you just as much as they’re here to see him. So, give them a good show out there.”

“I plan on it.”

“You know what’s at stake here.”

“Only everything,” I reply.

He nods. “Only everything.”

For so long, I’ve been content doing what I’m doing—training fighters and picking up small fights here and there. I haven’t given much thought to the pro circuit or a shot at the title in a long time. I just figured it wasn’t in my cards, so I put it out of my head and haven’t given it any consideration since then. I didn’t realize how many unresolved feelings I still had until Ray lobbed me that phone call. I didn’t realize just how much I still fucking want this after all this time. I guess some dreams really do die hard.

“How much longer? I want to get this shit started already,” I say. “The sooner that bell rings, the sooner I can put him down.”

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