Blood & Fists: Bare-knuckle Series #1 Page 3

  Peter entered another set of numbers on a keypad that unlocked the outside stairwell door. Olivia followed him up a set of stairs to another interior metal door with a keypad. Entering a number he opened the door and held it for her. Olivia stepped out into a posh lobby where a man in a dark black suit sat at a mahogany crescent shaped desk.

  He looked up as they entered and nodded, “Good morning, Mr. Driscoll. Welcome back.”

  “Good morning, Max. Thank you. I'd love to stay and chat but we're exhausted from the flight.”

  “No worries, sir.”

  She rubbed her eyes and yawned as they made their way across the stone-tiled floor towards a set of elevators. Waiting on the elevator, Olivia glanced at the fresh flowers and black and silver decor that was around the lobby and down several hallways. A soft ding and the elevator doors opened.

  Without a word, they stepped in. Peter slid his hand down her back as he leaned over to hit the button with 32 printed next to it. Olivia leaned against him and groaned. He kissed her forehead, his hand resting on her hip. She dropped her bag in her hand and reached for him, pressing her lips against his.

  He pulled her closer to him, letting her body feel how much he wanted her. She undid one of the buttons on his shirt as she kissed him and teased him with her tongue.

  Olivia whispered against his lips, “This is the longest elevator ride ever.”

  He nibbled on her lip and ran a finger along her jawline. Breaking the kiss, Peter pulled his set of keys out of his pocket, sorting through until he found his penthouse key. The elevator doors opened and they stepped off, taking a left down a long carpeted hallway. A glossy black door with a deadbolt was at the far end of the hallway.

  “Home sweet home,” he muttered as he unlocked the door and followed her inside.

  Floor to ceiling windows made the Chicago skyline seem like an enormous canvas painting colored with shades of blacks, dark blues, and fluorescent whites. Shaking her head, she marvelled at the beautiful view. Olivia permitted herself a sad smile. She’d forgotten how beautiful Chicago was at night. He nuzzled her neck from behind as she studied the skyline.

  Peter grabbed her hips and turned her around to face him. Even in the darkness, they could still see each other. He brought her lips to his, his hands moving her up against the wall. Olivia wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer.

  “I need a shower and your cock inside me. Preferably in that order,” she whispered. He licked his lips and pointed towards two French doors that led to his bedroom, “Shower is that way.”

  7

  Peter slid out of his bed, pushing aside the crisp linen sheets so he wouldn’t wake Olivia. Last night, he'd put the electronic shades down on all the windows so the bright sun wouldn't wake them in their jet-lagged post-fuck sleep. He tiptoed across the sprawling master bedroom and closed the glass French doors behind him. A few ambient lights were on around the apartment, giving Peter enough light to step into his darkened kitchen and turn on the overhead lights.

  Glancing at the LED clock on the stainless steel refrigerator, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked. He spotted his pants under Olivia’s on the floor near the entryway and pulled on his boxers. Digging out his phone from his discarded pants, he stretched as he stood. Peter winced and touched his right rib as a throbbing pain shot through him.

  He blew out a jagged breath, probing his ribs to find the exact area. He found the small spot and grinned. Olivia had cracked his rib last night. A small crack judging by the pain. He was used to injuries due to fighting and could tolerate quite a lot of pain, but injuries from sex, never. Peter licked his lips, remembering how her body glowed with sweat as she rode him. His cock twitched and started to stiffen.

  He rolled his eyes when he felt his phone vibrate, interrupting his fantasies, with a message from his brother Ronan.

  Peter grabbed their scattered clothes and walked down the hallway to a single side door that lead to a small laundry room. Tossing the clothes into a corner of the laundry room, he grabbed a pair of clean jeans and a grey shirt he had sitting in a basket on top of the dryer. Throwing his clothes on, he turned on a few more lights in the kitchen and living room before peeking in on Olivia. Still sound asleep.

  Jiggling his foot, he chewed on a chocolate mint protein bar and scrolled through his phone. He ignored the notification about setting up an apartment for Olivia. Peter deleted the reminder from his calendar and told himself he’d work on it tomorrow. Tossing the wrapper in the trash, he moved to the entryway when he heard a knock at the front door.

  Peter opened his door to see a very awake and alert Ronan. With dark red hair and brown eyes, Ronan the opposite of Peter in both looks and personality, depending on who you asked. Ronan’s dark hair was buzzed all around his head except for a long section at the top which he had pulled into a short ponytail.

  Best friends since grade school and brothers by marriage, Peter and Ronan were the left and right hand within Clan Driscoll. The head of the crime family being the matron, their mother, Roisin Driscoll. Ronan stepped in dressed in jeans and a black shirt that highlighted the tattoo sleeves down both of his arms. He sat down at the glass kitchen table as Peter sat across from him.

  “What’s all this ‘bout a gift from Clan Chiko?” Ronan asked with an Irish accent.

  “Shhh, lower your voice,” Peter motioned towards his closed bedroom doors.

  With a grin spreading across his face, Ronan looked at the glass doors and back at his brother, “Please tell me there’s a girl in there?”

  Peter rubbed his neck, “She’s, uh, the gift. I was about to leave after making the deal with the old woman and she … well, gave her to me as a gift, to seal our new business partnership.”

  Ronan’s dark eyebrows raised, “Huh, that’s very generous of her. I mean as far as I know, it’s not custom with business deals to give a gift.”

  Ronan frowned and glanced down at the Celtic knot tattood on his right hand. His brown eyes flicked back up to his brother.

  “Be careful, Pete.”

  Peter gave a nod, “I will. I mean, I am.”

  “It's about time you moved on, though. … You know, she wanted you to, when you were ready.”

  Peter closed his eyes, the sound of the beeping from various medical monitoring equipment in Cara’s hospital room flooded his ears. Please, don’t go. Their eyes met and Ronan gave him a reassuring smile. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and folded his hands on the table.

  “She’s also a bare-knuckle fighter, one of the best in Tokyo. I watched her fight all week, she’s amazing. I haven’t seen any one … well, not to give myself an ego stroke, but I haven’t seen any one we’ve had in the past six years that matched my skill level ...”

  Peter pointed his thumb towards his bedroom “... until I saw her.”

  This situation with the girl could get complicated very fast. His instincts told him it already was. For Ronan, loyalty and family came first. Love and everything else took a backseat.

  Ronan teased, “You falling for her already. That's so cute.”

  “I am not, it’s just business. ”

  “Pete, in case you’ve forgotten, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “Says the man who--”

  Ronan cut his brother off, “Don’t make me fight you again, boyo.”

  Peter smirked and folded his arms, “Anytime you want to drag your lazy ass down to Paddy’s for a little match, I’m game. We should probably get going, traffic is going to be a bitch on our way to the pub. Mom will want an update on anything and everything that happened to me while I was in London and Tokyo. You’re driving.”

  Ronan rolled his eyes, “Fine. Asshole.”

  Peter stifled a laugh as he stood and moved towards his bedroom. Ronan turned the back of his hand towards Peter and shot up his index and middle finger, making a V, and moved his arm upwards. Peter returned the loving gesture with flipping his middle finger towards his brother. Stepping into his darkened bedroom,
the dim light from the hallway highlighted Olivia’s shoulders and blonde hair. Ronan leaned in his chair trying to peek into Pete’s bedroom to get a glimpse of the lassy his brother had.

  As Peter walked around his bed to her, he trailed his hand up her foot and calf that was peeking out of his white sheets. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he traced his lips up her bare arm. She smelled of pussy and his soap. He ached to stay here and stay in bed with her. Her arm broke out in goosebumps and she gave a small moan. Olivia stirred sleepily and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Peter’s lips reached her shoulder and planted a light kiss there before putting his lips to her ear.

  “I have to go do some things for work. It shouldn’t take long, only an hour or two. TV remote is on my side of the bed. Be back soon.”

  He kissed the side of her forehead and she smiled up at him as he stood. Grabbing his running shoes from his closet, he closed his bedroom doors behind him. Olivia rolled over onto his side of the bed and inhaled his scent on his pillow. She could get used to waking up like this every morning.

  8

  Peter smelled coffee before he unlocked his apartment door. Caffeine. Nectar of the gods. He felt a headache coming on. Half because of Roisin and half due to the lack of caffeine over the past few days. Olivia stood in his white-tiled kitchen blowing on a steaming cup of coffee. Her tired eyes took him in, every chiseled inch. He was all hers. Her fighter.

  Peter leaned in close, kissing her neck, “That’s my shirt.”

  Olivia flicked her lashes at him as she took a sip of coffee. Never taking her eyes off of him, “It’s mine now.”

  She slid past him, brushing her free hand along his arm as she sat down at the glass kitchen table. Peter’s eyes drank in her body, he dug his fingernails into his palm when he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything under his shirt. Pouring himself a cup of good morning America, he moved and sat across from her.

  “Sleep ok?”

  She licked her lips and smiled over at him, “You wore me out.”

  “And you cracked my rib.”

  Olivia crossed her legs, “Good.”

  His green eyes danced as he blew on his coffee before taking a sip. Clearing his throat and setting his cup down, “We, um, need to talk business.” She raised her eyebrows and took another sip of coffee. “Do you know how much are you worth as a fighter? If you don't, that's fine, I can track down that information but figured I'd ask you first. ”

  Olivia cocked her head and tapped her fingers against her lips, “A little over 85 million yen. That's about four or five fights per month, it’s what I was averaging in Tokyo.”

  Peter nodded thoughtfully before pulling his phone from his pocket and making a few notes and currency conversions. “I'm guessing your cut was about half of that then? Including bets and outsider odds?”

  “Yes, that right. My payment also depended on injuries or if I killed the opponent or not. Injuries or death equaled more payout.”

  Peter paused and looked up from his phone. Fight to the death was a big no-no in Chicago. Too much cleanup and paperwork. It also drew the attention of Chicago police department and the Feds. Clan Driscoll was already being monitored by the Feds and they didn't need any more undesired attention.

  “We don't do death fights here. Injuries, of course. But if death can be avoided, it is. There hasn’t been a death fight in Chicago in twenty years and I intend to keep it that way.”

  Picking up her cup and taking a sip she said, “That's a shame.”

  Folding his arms, Peter grinned, “Just out of curiosity, how many have you killed fighting?”

  She knew the number. She'd kept a running tally back in Tokyo. Eight years in Tokyo. Twelve months per year. Peter held his breath in anticipation. If she said more than fifty, he knew he'd have to marry her.

  “125.”

  Olivia watched Peter’s eyes grow heavy with desire. Scratching his closely cropped beard, he shook his head, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

  “New York, by way of Ireland.”

  A buzz from Peter's phone made him look down as he drained his coffee cup. He shifted in his seat and nodded at the information he read on his phone.

  “I can offer you $5,000 more than what your rate was in Japan. By my calculations that's about $192,000 for four to five fights per month.”

  “Make it $8,000 and you have got yourself a fighter.”

  Peter drummed on his empty coffee cup with his fingers.

  “Done.”

  Her mouth curved into a smile. Olivia moved her hand down to her thigh and inched up his shirt.

  “In your job, do you mix business with pleasure?”

  His eyes drew down to her hand as it moved up her perfect thigh. Not taking his eyes from her hand, Peter smiled.

  “Never.”

  She chuckled, her hand stopping before revealing her pussy, “Willing to make an exception?”

  He touched his cock that was already straining against his jeans. Peter’s eyes moved up her body and watched her nipples grow hard and strain against his shirt.

  “Just for you. And only you.”

  Olivia’s breath became hurried. She spread her legs wide in her chair, baring her throbbing wet pussy. Undoing his jeans and pulling out his erection, he started stroking his pulsating cock.

  “Take off my shirt.”

  She tugged his shirt off and pushed out her breasts. He gripped his cock harder and increased his strokes as he watched her tease her hard nipples.

  “Get on all fours and crawl to me.”

  Her whole body vibrated as she obeyed, her blue eyes alight with excitement.

  Peter watched her slink towards him on all fours. He wanted to take in every second and all her glorious curves. In the light, Peter noticed a couple of Japanese symbols, about two inches tall, tattooed on her inner thigh. He let his left hand fall to his side as she reached his chair. She stopped at his hand and traced the Celtic knot tattoo before kissing his scarred knuckles and the inside of his palm.

  She drew her lips up his arm after kissing the inside of his wrist. His fingers traced her face before tilting her chin up to look at him. His thumb traced the curve of her lips before sliding into her mouth. His breath quickened watching his thumb move back and forth between her lips.

  Peter licked his lips, “You're so fucking beautiful.”

  Olivia blushed. She squeezed her thighs, feeling the wetness and a pleasurable throbbing. He pulled his thumb out of her mouth and pulled up his pants. Peter touched her cheek so she would look up at him again. Those eyes. So much strength.

  “Go get in bed. On all fours and ass up.”

  Olivia obeyed, slowly walking in front of Peter as he admired the view. He took off his shirt and pants as she got on all fours. She arched her back and pushed her ass up as he instructed her. He moved to his bedside table and grabbed a couple of condoms. Moving back around to her ass, he slid his boxers off. He put a knee between her legs as he ran his hand over her ass. He started stroking his cock with his other hand, pushing his head against her ass so she could feel his hand pumping. Olivia groaned and pushed back against him.

  “The first night we met, I jerked off so many times thinking of you.”

  She moaned and ground her pussy against his balls. He raised his hand and smacked her ass hard, leaving a red handprint. He dipped three of his fingers into her wet pussy, teasing her lips and entrance as he thrusted them in and out.

  “Fuck,” she moaned.

  “Mmmmmm, I bet you like that don't you? My cock is so hard and your pussy is so swollen, it's like we didn't even fuck at all last night.”

  He stopped stroking himself and leaned down to grab his belt. He folded the belt and Olivia tensed as she heard him tug the leather tight. Peter ran the belt up and down each leg while he let her grind on his fingers. He raised the belt and whacked it on her ass. Her whole body bucked forward at the surprise.

  He chuckled as he pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. Sh
e gasped and pulled away from his tongue. He pulled her hips back to his face. As he fucked her with his tongue, her moans increased and her body became a knot of tension. His mouth was wet with his spit and her juices as he pulled back and ran his belt along her clit and lips. He raised the belt and whacked it on her ass. Olivia curled her toes, moaning.

  “Christ, Peter, I need you inside me, I can't …”

  “Not yet, sweetheart. I'm not done playing with you.”

  Dropping the belt on the bed, he moved back to her and kissed his marks on her ass. He traced his lips up her back, kissing random spots along the way.

  “Roll over onto your back.”

  Peter took off his watch and set it on his bedside table as Olivia changed her position. Laying on her back, she looked over at Peter. With a curious expression on his face, he watched her. He reminded himself again that she wasn’t a dream. She was very real. Smiling, she sat up on her elbows and kissed him. He moved back down to her clit and began licking.

  She wriggled and moved against him. His hands reached for her breasts, teasing her tips as his tongue slipped back inside her. Olivia arched her back and whispered, “Oh god, I'm close, so fucking close.”

  Peter paused, lifting his head. Their eyes met, the scent of sex in the air, his eyes grew dark with lust. “Cum baby, cum on my face!”

  Placing two fingers from each of his hands on her labia and gently applied pressure. She gripped his hair as he pushed his face in deeper, his nose inhaling her scent and massaging her clit.

  “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, yes, fuck me!”

  He grabbed her hips to hold her against his face as she began twisting and trying to pull away. Peter felt increased wetness all over his mouth and thrusting tongue. She loosened her grip on his blond hair and he slowed his licking. Catching her breath, she looked down at him, her eyes burning with lust.