Page 18 of A Fighter’s Love

Two men. Imagine that. Jenny would be happy with one. One who wasn’t Billy, of course.

She poured a coffee and took a sip as she stared out of the leaflet and Post-It note-littered window at the quiet training area. A boxing ring stood in the middle, the ropes sagging slightly. Soon they’d be tightened, and the corner pads changed for purple, which was Jackson’s fighting color. She’d seen fights here before, but not one of Jackson’s. She didn’t like the thought of him taking too many hits. He was handsome with his rugged, ‘should’ve shaved’ look, and he already had a scar over his right eyebrow which segmented the dark hairs that grew there. Although a black eye and bloody nose was inevitable, she shuddered at the thought of anything worse—shattered bones, concussion, beaten up ribs and kidneys.

But it wasn’t her place to either worry, or have an opinion. It was up to Jackson, and if he was with Dale, then it wasDale’sjob to worry.

But she would worry, nevertheless.

She finished her coffee, then set to work on the marketing file. There were flyers to order, advertisements to place, and a feature forMetroto write. After half an hour the thumping music came on, telling her Billy had returned to the building.

Silently she once again went over the conversation she was planning on having with him, and steeled herself for his arrival in the office.

But he didn’t come in, and after filing the orders for flyers, she peered out of the window.

Billy was standing by the ropes, alongside Michael. And in the ring were Jackson and Dale.

She hadn’t noticed them all arriving. She must have been more involved in her tasks than she’d realized.

Leaning up against the table, she nibbled her bottom lip, and admired the way Dale and Jackson were moving around each other in the light-footed dance she’d become used to seeing. Each wore headgear, a mouth shield and padded red gloves.

Fuck, they’re hot.

A tremor of lust went through her. The two men who’d taken her for drinks the evening before were the stuff of fantasies. Throw in the fact they were both practically naked, their muscles flexing and shifting beneath their flesh, and they became a fantasy sprinkled in chocolate and wrapped up in a wish.

She pressed against the table harder and was surprised when the hard lip of the wood compressed her mound. Enjoying the sensation, she shifted a little and through her clothing it caught on her clit.

With a gasp she glanced at the door. It was partly closed.

She set her attention back on Jackson and Dale. Dale already had a sheen of sweat in the gutter of his spine and it glistened in the bright overhead lights as he circled Jackson.

Jackson threw a head punch.

Dale dodged it, just, and carried on skipping in a clockwise direction.

Michael pointed and said something. Jackson shot out another punch which caught Dale’s cheek.

Dale retaliated fast with an upper cut. Landed it.

Jackson stepped back, got in a point with a low jab.

They were both so good. Even without being an expert Jenny knew that. She twitched her hips from left to right, enjoying the dense sensation on her clitoris. What she really wanted to do was put her fingers down her knickers, and rub hard and fast. When had she last masturbated? She couldn’t remember. But to do it now, while watching Dale and Jackson sparring, that would be deliciously wicked.

Billy moved around the ring gesturing and shouting orders, clearing her view farther. Dale threw a face punch at Jackson who ducked and sent one back.

It caught Dale on the temple. He didn’t appear to notice, and sent another jab into the mix as he shielded his face from the second one Jackson was flying forward.

Her heart rate sped up. Her internal muscles clenched and her breaths quickened. Thoughts of the two men putting all of that energy into fucking each other besieged her. Beautiful glistening bodies. Peak fitness. Total control. Consumed by desire.

She bit harder on her lip and whimpered as she ground forward. The need for an orgasm was growing. She wanted more stimulation, more of everything.

A loud, sharp noise to her right startled her and she hurriedly stepped away from the table.

The small office window, behind the desk, had come off its latch and hit the frame.

“Just as well,” she muttered, though frustration burned hotly through her veins. Dipping into her bag, she retrieved a bottle of water and took a few gulps. What the hell had she been going to do, get herself off, here? In Billy’s shitty office? Surely if her libido was returning she should celebrate with something a bit classier—a bottle of wine, mellow music, candlelight and a vibrator.

Yep. Her vibe would have to do.

As she sat, and peered out of the window at the sparring practice, she knew exactly whose names would be on her lips when she came. She’d picture them both, together, with her, all three of them. The way Stella had described her friend and her two lovers. There was nothing wrong with a little erotic dreaming after all.

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