Page 28 of Body Lock

I knew what that meant; he would send one of his goons to break my jaw. Make me pay for sticking my nose in where it didn't belong.

I wanted to see Quinn again. I couldn't get him out of my mind. His muscular chest, jaw cut hard as marble, the massive cock I had felt pressed into my hip.

Fucking tease, that's what that was.

Even the idea of him made my panties wet, made my heart slam around my chest like a caged bird. Prickles broke over my neck in a cold sweat. Running my hands down my cheeks, I pressed a palm to my forehead.

I should have just let him have his way with me. Why didn't I?

Fear.

The grip my father had around me, my life...

I'm not weak, I'm not frail.

But, he was my father. I was raised to listen to him, to show him the utmost respect at all times. No matter what.

It was burned into my brain, into my soul, into every move and choice I made.

I fucking hated it.

'Ding, Ding!'

The loud bell rang, shaking me out of my daze. The fights had begun, first up tonight was a tall, lanky guy named Gavel against a man named Titus. Both had been good fighters here, and had faced each other once before.

Gavel had his ass handed to him last time. You could see it in his eyes he wanted revenge. A blood thirsty snarl lifted on one side, sweat pouring down his temples as his hands came up ready to strike.

The two men danced around each other in the circle, the crowed thundering together in one jostling, loud growl.

Every bone in my body shook, rattled from the intensity of screams and clapping. Shifting my eyes around the space, my father approached from the side.

“Cadence, pour me a drink, my dear.” He rested his elbow against the edge, twisting to watch the carnage inside the ring. “We have a good turnout tonight.”

“Yeah, seems that way.” My voice lacked interest in his hobby.

He shot his stare in my direction. “Not enjoying yourself?” A sneer peeked from the corner of his mouth.

I slammed the glass down hard, pouring his drink, and not saying one word.

He knows how I feel about this shit. Why would he even ask me that?

Lifting the glass, the liquid flowed effortlessly down his throat. “Well, don't worry.” His finger bounced in the air, tapping towards my face. “I have a surprise for you tonight.” Resting the empty cup on the bar, his hand raised to touch my shoulder.

Stepping back from his fingers, I said, “I'm sure you do.” Not meeting his eyes, I stared down at the bar, wiping away tiny droplets of liquor.

“Sarcasm, my favorite. But... I think you'll enjoy this one.” Winking, he strolled off towards his throne to watch the game.

The crashing of flesh against bone ricocheted behind the standing mass in front of me. I couldn't see what was going on, the fight had moved to the floor.

The sudden bellow from the crowd, and ding of the bell, signaled the fight was over. Titus stood, Gavel did not. His limp body dragged to the back by the aid of other fighters.

According to the guys at the bar waiting for the next fight to begin, he had been choked out; suffocated until his eyes rolled back in his skull, and he finally passed out,hopefully.

You never really knew the true end result when someone was dragged off, especially if they never came back to fight again.

There was always the chance they got frightened, or they couldn't take it anymore. Then there was the obvious... In that dirty ring they took their final breath as their heart seized to beat.

I hated thinking about that. I was certain we had lost our fair share of fighters over the years. Honestly, it baffled me that my dad was still a free man.

---