Page 20 of Sacrifice
The recovery wasn’t as bad as they said it was going to be. Besides a shooting pain here and there across the top portion of my back, I didn’t feel that injured. Physically, anyway. Mentally, I was devastated. Emotionally, I was destroyed.
Wrestling had been my life and fighting was my future. A contract with the North American Fighting League, or NAFL, was dangled in front of me and then ripped away after my injury. Wrestling had given me all the hope in the world. It was my Golden Ticket, my way out. It had taken absofuckinglutely everything that mattered to me away, too.
When I took the job on the docks, the doctors said that I shouldn’t. That loading and lifting would strain my neck and back, but I really didn’t give a fuck. All I knew then was I couldn’t do what I loved. I just needed a paycheck until I checked out. Fuck it.
Week after week, month after month, I didn’t feel like I was deteriorating. Not once. While that’s a good thing, it’s also a bad one. It makes me wonder, seriously fucking consider, that I could’ve still fought. That the doctors were wrong. That I gave up my dreams for nothing.
My hand is on the knob to the shower when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and look at the screen.
“Hey, Jordyn.”
“Hi.”
“What’s up?”
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
I hear her tap her tongue off the roof of her mouth and I grin. I know that sound.
“Well, I figured you were getting off work and I happen to be in your neighborhood. I was gonna stop by.”
“People don’t juststop by.Is that a nice way of saying you need fucked?”
Jordyn and I have a veryfriendlyrelationship. Neither of us are looking for anything serious and we both like to fuck. It works. It’s refreshingly uncomplicated.
“Well, when you put it so eloquently . . .” she says, a door closing in the background. “I’m coming up the walkway now.”
I end the call and head towards the door. When I open it, she’s standing there, looking at her phone. She glances up at me, smiles and walks in, her fingers still flying across the screen.
I grab the phone out of her hand before she knows what happens. “Hey,” she says, reaching for it. I hold it up where she can’t reach it.
The screen says “Elijah.” I laugh, recognizing the guy’s name from the bar. I type out a quick text while she watches, one hand on her hip.
Elijah—I’m about to get fucked. I’ll message you later.
“Give me my phone, asshole.” Her voice has a hint of a laugh and I know she’s not really pissed. Not that I give a damn if she is.
I drop her phone into her purse and toss it unceremoniously to the floor. She looks hot as fuck in a white top that shows off her chest and a pair of black yoga pants.
I back her against the wall and grab her face in my hands. My body is charged, lit up. This wasn’t the release I thought I was going to get tonight, but it’s sure as fuck better than push-ups. Not to mention, I’m fucking horny as hell. She’s not mine and I don’t want her to be but knowing that she was messaging another guy when she walked in here gives me something to prove. A reason to up my game, show her what’s up.
I kiss her roughly, my lips pressing firmly against hers. She grabs the back of my head and works her fingers through my hair. I bite down on her bottom lip, making her half yelp and half moan. The sound goes straight to my cock.
I put one hand under her ass and lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist and I carry her into the dining area. She moans against my lips, my tongue invading her mouth, taking ownership of it.
The table still has my breakfast dishes on it. I swipe them off to the other side and sit her on the tabletop. I take a step back and catch my breath.
“Take your shirt off,” I order.
She grabs the hem and wastes little time removing the fabric, leaving her full breasts on display in a black lacy bra. The round tops of her tits make my dick rock fucking solid.
I slip a condom out of my wallet and unbutton my pants. She lays back, her eyes wild, the scent of her vanilla perfume everywhere. I roll the condom over myself and then grab the waistband of her pants and yank them off her body, her shoes hitting the floor first.
My fingertips dig into her hips as I scoot her to the end of the table, guiding myself towards her opening. The initial contact has her panting, her back arched, waiting for the next move.
I slide into her with one thrust, her pussy so wet for me that it makes my cock throb. I groan as she constricts around my length. I pause when I hit the back, slide out, and then push inside her as far as it’ll go.
