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Boxing

By: Ashson



The gym was closed on the day she came waltzing into the place. The only reason the doors were unlocked was that I was in to do the books. I figured the woman must have been illiterate as our opening hours were clearly posted on the door and on the counter, but she ignored them and just barged up to the counter and started banging on the bell.

Eventually tiring of hearing her banging on the bell and yelling out I wandered out to see what she wanted. Well, no, I didn't. I have to admit I wandered out to chase her away.

"We're closed," I said, fronting up to the counter. "Go away and come back when we're open."

"Excuse me," she replied, "but you are open. The door is unlocked and the lights are on and you're here at the counter. That looks open to me."

"OK. We're open, technically, but we're not in operational mode. See the sign? It tells you when you can come in and do things here. There's another one on the door. You can see it on your way out."

"I'm not interested in them," she said. "I want you to teach me to box. I want to take it up professionally."

It's not nice to laugh at potential customers but that doesn't make it easy not to laugh. She was about twenty, would be struggling to make the weight for a straw-weight, presumably had had no training and she wanted to be a boxer. She looked as though a strong wind would knock her down. A punch would probably land her in hospital.

"Um, we're not exactly geared towards training female fighters," I told her. "I can give you a list of a couple of gyms that might be willing to take you on."

(Some customers you just don't want. You just know that they're going to be a real pain. She was one of those, I just knew it.)

"You're not allowed to turn me down on the basis of sex," she said. "That's discrimination and against the law."

I idly wondered what the discrimination act said about turning someone down on the grounds of congenital idiocy. They probably had that covered as well.

"Well, I can't help you right now anyway," I told her happily. "Like I said, we're not in operational mode and none of our instructors are available. Why don't you come back later?"

Much later, like next year.

"You're here and you used to be a boxer. Why can't you train me for my initial lesson? Though I suppose you're a bit old to get in the ring now," she finished up, regarding me dubiously. 

A bit old? I gave her a nasty look and asked her how she knew that I used to be a boxer.

She promptly pointed to some pictures on the wall behind me. Typical advertising for a gym, but it showed me in the ring sparring.

"Yeah, well we don't have a female change room or other facilities just yet. It's on the list of upgrades but we haven't got around to doing them yet. Sorry."

Pushy broad. She had no intention of taking no for an answer.

"There's just us here so that won't matter," she said. "And I don't need to get changed. What I'm wearing will be fine for a boxing lesson."

I looked her over and she had a point. She was wearing loose shorts and a tank top, pretty much what she'd be wearing if she was in the ring. I figured what the hell. It would probably be faster to get rid of her by giving her a lesson and showing her how unsuited she was.

So I jerked my thumb towards the bags and told her to move on in. She went dancing over to them, all smiles, while I locked the gym door in case some other nut wanted to come in.

I followed and put a pair of light gloves on her and squeezed on a pair myself. Her's, I laced up. Mine, I didn't bother. I didn't think we'd be there very long.

I showed her how to stand and how to hold her arms and how to throw a punch. Then I invited her to hit the heavy bag. She missed it. Twice.

I again showed her how to stand and how to hold her arms and how to step close enough to your opponent to hit him. Then I invited her to hit the heavy bag. She missed it. Again. I hadn't thought it possible for anyone to be so inept. 

She protested that it was my fault. I should put her in the ring and really show her how to box. 

It's not done that way, I explained. Let's try the basics first. Once the basics are right, everything else will follow naturally.

She wasn't having a bar of it. I was being deliberately difficult because she was a woman, she claimed. It was rank discrimination and totally unfair. She'd file a suit against me.

Never argue with a woman. When they're right they know it and when they're wrong they know they're right.

I invited her into the ring. She scrambled into the ring and I climbed in behind her. I started to explain what we would be doing and she punched me on the nose.

"What the hell are you playing at?" I roared at her. That surprise punch had stung.

"Isn't that what we're here for?" she taunted me.

I was beginning to suspect a put-up job. If it was, I was going to kill someone.

"There are rules in the ring," I patiently explained. "We don't start until the bell rings and normally we would start towards each other from opposite corners. Because I'm instructing you, or trying to, we'll waive the opposite corners bit. Do you remember anything of the way I showed you to stand and hold your arms?"

Of course not. That would be too easy. I showed her again and she assumed a reasonable position.

"OK," I said. "I'm going to throw a couple of light punches at you. They won't hit for two reasons. One, I'll be aiming them to miss you. Two, you will block them with your arms and direct them even further away from your body. Now, are you ready?"

She nodded enthusiastically and I swung a gentle punch towards her chin. It was going to fall short, as I didn't really expect her to be able to block it, and I wanted her to realise just how close she came to getting a face full of fist.

You wouldn't believe that idiot. Instead of trying to block she tried to duck and also took a step forward to try to connect with me. It seemed to me that what she really wanted to do was just punch someone. 

The result of her ducking and stepping forward threw my punch off slightly. It bounced off her chin, quite gently, I assure you, and she went to sleep.

I kid you now. She was out like a light, stretched flat on her back, absolutely spreadeagled on the mat. For crying out loud, I've swatted mosquitoes with a harder punch than that. I've heard of glass jaws but this was ridiculous.

I tossed my gloves and crouched over her, giving her a little shake to see if she was faking. Nope. Out cold. 

I went to the office to get some sal volatile. Good old smelling salts. Just the thing for these sorts of situations.

I will freely admit that I was feeling pretty pissed off. The fool woman had ignored everything I said and just gone her own sweet way, and she'd now probably sue me for knocking her cold. So yes, I was pissed off. 

Coming back to the ring I looked at her flat on her back. She'd insinuated that I was now an old man incapable of climbing into the ring. And she couldn't even take a single punch. The whole 'is this a set-up' thing came bubbling up in my mind again. 

That's when my evil plan appeared full blown in my mind.

I didn't wave the smelling salts under her nose. If this was a set-up I figured there was a faster way to wake her up.

Kneeling down beside her I took hold of her shorts and yanked them down and off. Sleeping beauty hadn't budged. Her pretty little panties followed and she still slept on. It seemed that she really was out cold. It also seemed that she liked to shave her mons. A probing thumb told me that she had shaved recently. No prickles from regrowing stubble.

Decision, decisions. Did I put her panties and short back on, wake her the way she was now, or continue on course and take off her top? What do you think?

The tank top was easy, but that bra had a tricky little catch. I managed to figure it out and sleeping beauty was now stretched out naked on the mat.

It's always intrigued me the way a woman's breasts seem to vanish when they lie down. Real breasts, that is. Yet if you cup them and lift them it is still there, just waiting for you to take a bite. I'll admit I cupped them, but I refrained from biting. After all, the woman was out cold.

I did strip off myself and pay a little attention to her pussy. A little rubbing, a little squeezing and internal touching and it seemed to me that her body was reacting spontaneously. She became hot and wet quite readily.

Now I don't want you to think I was going to take unfair advantage of her while she was out cold. That's just not my style. But I didn't see any harm in making some preparations for what might happen after she woke up.

I eased her lips apart and let them close over the head of my erection. That's all. If she decided to pull back, no harm done. Then I uncapped the sal volatile and waved it under her nose.

She snorted and tossed her head to the side. I patted her on the cheek.

"Wakey, wakey," I crooned. "Time to wake up. What's your name, sweetheart?"

It was odd, but with all our arguing we hadn't actually gotten around to exchanging names.

She shook her head again, muttering. Her eyes snapped into focus and she said "Carol. My name is Carol."

"Nice to have you back with us, Carol," I said.

"Where am I?" she muttered, and then realisation dawned. "The gym. You hit me."

At about that time other sensations from her body apparently clarified, drawing her attention to them. She gave me a look of horror and then switched her gaze down to where my erection was just resting comfortably, her lips wrapped around its head.

She squealed a very loud, "You bastard!" and bucked savagely beneath me.

If she was trying to throw me off then her wrestling was on a par with her boxing skills. What she achieved was to hoist her hips hard up against me, skewering herself upon my cock as neat as you please.

She didn't stop there. She squealed and twisted and squirmed and bucked beneath me, sliding herself up and down my cock like a wild thing. It was all I could do to hang on as she worked me over. If it hadn't been for the fact that I was holding her breasts I might even have lost my position.

Carol must have been busy pumping my cock for a good five minutes before it seemed to dawn on her that that was all she was doing. By then it was far too late for her to do anything about it. Her actions had taken on a life of their own (with my enthusiastic help) and we were banging against each other in fine style.

I did notice when she stopped taking the lead in our friendly little wrestling match, but that was OK as I was quite happy to take over the leading role. I banged into her hard and often and she responded, humping herself up against me, meeting my every drive.

She was still looking daggers at me but she couldn't deny that her body had entered fully into the spirit of things, her bottom lifting clear off the mat in her eagerness to bounce against me.

My hands had cupped her breasts and I was stimulating her nipples. I gave Carol a wink and she gave a frustrated scream of fury as I bent down and bit her breast, letting my teeth graze against her nipple. Her anger and frustration didn't stop her from humping her hips though. She was right into it, keeping up with me every step of the way.

This was undoubtedly the happiest fight this old ring had ever had. On my part that is. I thought it was fantastic. Carol seemed to be in two minds. Her body was saying yes, yes, yes while her mind was saying no, no, no. Fortunately for me her body was in full control. I don't think Carol had even stopped to consider the fact that she hadn't said no or stop. 

I was going full bore when I saw Carol's eyes starting to glaze over. That was clue enough for me and I started driving into her even faster, quite happy to explode now that I knew Carol was about there.

Undoubtedly it was my old age that slowed me down a trifle. Carol suddenly screamed and I could feel her clamping down around me where I was busy entertaining her. The extra drag was enough to push me over the edge and I let her have everything I possessed.

Afterwards I gave Carol some advice. If she wanted a hobby, forget boxing. Take up something like macramé because she would never make a fighter. If she wanted a shower, she could use the changing rooms but she'd have to hurry as the gym would be opening soon. I didn't want her in there when the men came in to start changing as she might embarrass them.

I got another 'less than the dirt beneath her feet' look and she stormed off to the change room. Lovely sway on her bottom when she walked.

She was back in what must be a record time for a woman to shower and dress. She came stalking up to me and told me she was lodging a formal complaint against me.

"Why?" I asked. "It's not my fault that you're totally unsuited to boxing. Blame your parents."

"Not that," she almost screamed at me. "For raping me."

"I beg your pardon?" I said, all injured dignity. "Might I mention that you're the one who thrust herself up onto my cock and kept on doing it? And might I also mention that at no time did you say that you didn't like my attentions or that you wanted them to stop."

Carol just looked at me, and I thought she was going to explode. Instead she turned and walked towards the doors. I called after her.

"Excuse me, Carole," I said. "There's the matter of twenty five dollars for the boxing lesson and use of the facility. It's cheaper if you want to sign on for an extended term."

Would you believe she stiffed me? She just walked out without paying. I'll have to remind her next time she comes.

Boxing Day



This was a rather exciting real life occurrence from a few weeks ago. Only the people involved know of it, and I've been dying to share it with others. Using the anonymity of the Internet, I've changed the principals names and the location, and it is with both of their consent, that I'll run you through what happened at the end of December 2015.

One of the (many) downsides of having your birthday on Boxing Day, is that it's hard to get people out for a drink or a night out.

Everyone's either away visiting their families, too tired and hungover from Christmas or simply can't get there as trains, busses and other public transport are running on the limited festive timetables.

On the evening of December 26th, my 28th birthday, I had decided I'd like to go out for a few drinks with my husband "Jack". Accompanying us was my sister and mine and Jack's best friend "Rach".

Rach and Jack had known each other since college and I met her through him. We've all been incredibly close ever since. Rach served as my bridesmaid three years earlier and despite her now living down South, she was back up North visiting her family for Christmas and she was more than happy to get out of the house for a few drinks on Boxing Day.

The four of us got to town around 8:30 p.m, and it was pretty quiet. There were a handful of places open, and we found one that we knew made pretty good cocktails and started in there.

After an hour or so, my sister decided to leave. Which was fine, we had been hanging out all day, and she was heading home the next morning and wanted an early night. 

That's when the drinking and casual smoking really stepped up a gear. We'd been on pitchers of, some cocktail or other, that the barman had assured us was the strongest on the menu. We were so engrossed in our own world, that we'd failed to notice that 3 hours had passed at the place had become jam packed.

A few quiet drinks had escalated into a pretty heavy night out. During the drinking, Jack had been getting text messages from his friend Nick, just talking about general stuff, films, sport etc. 

Rach found this hilarious as Nick had always had a crush on her, so she insisted Jack send him a group photo of the three of us hanging out in an effort to make him jealous. Which we did. Many drunk selifies of the three of us doing various stupid things were sent over. Rach had an even greater idea, and while Jack was taking our picture, she started kissing me on the lips.

There were plenty of pictures taken that evening of Rach and I in some form of lesbian embrace. Pictures I'm sure Jack still has on his phone =)

Needless to say, we were attracting quite a bit of attention from the adjoining tables. 

It was the end of the night and we were all mindless. It had been decided Rach would stay at ours, as we had a spare room, we'd save money on taxi fare and she didn't fancy her parents (where she was staying for Christmas) seeing her stumble in at 3:00 a.m. stinking of liquor and cigarettes.

Rach went up to the spare room and collapsed on the bed immediately. Jack and I had always been pretty kinky. Whenever we'd have guests over, we always like to try and discreetly have sex in the next room. Or depending on the guest, not so discreetly if they are liberal.

In our ten years together, we'd experimented in public places, on camera and during our University studies (where we met) we'd frequently "perform" for the city on the balcony of our top floor flat.

We liked the attention and tonight was no different. With Rach (possibly) asleep next door, the bed frame was rattling against the wall as Jack fucked me hard. With my legs resting on his shoulders he went deep inside me, causing the bed to bounce uncontrollably.

After the hard sex we both passed out exhausted and somewhere around the 4:30 a.m. mark shut our eyes and went to sleep.

It was around 6:00 a.m. when I woke up. Still pitch black outside, I was awoken by Jack with his head between my legs. I smiled, moaned sleepily and shut my eyes as he continued.

Running my hands down my body to his head, I opened my eyes as I felt the long hair of Rach between my legs. 

Apparently (her story later that day) was that she'd gotten up for a glass of water, and still completely drunk had returned to the wrong bedroom, gotten in bed and just gone with the flow.

I was still too drunk and tired myself to protest and just lay there as she ran her tongue up and down me.

I looked over to Jack. He was still sleeping peacefully next to me. I ran my hand down his naked body and started jerking him off slowly. 

He confusingly opened his eyes to look at me, and got an idea of the developing situation. I decided to let Rach lead this whole experiment and see where she was going with this.

After a short while she lifted her head, and shuffled herself up my body and was now lying on top of me face to face.

we started kissing and she continued to pleasure me with her hand. We were all completely naked at this point and I began stroking her as well.

She rolled off to one side of me, and still interlocked with our lips and hands, I now found myself in the middle of this threesome, with my back to Jack.

He shuffled himself in and stretched his arm over both of us. I could feel his hard cock pressed up against my ass and I just let him do his thing. He adjusted himself and went inside me and began slowly fucking me whilst I kissed Rach.

Mine and Rach's hands were all over each other as Jack fucked me side on. Occasionally Jack would slip out and, with Rach's leg wrapped round us, his cock would slide between both our clits.

He may have entered her a couple of times as well, it's all a bit hazy! 

After Jack came inside me, I rolled Rach over to be in the middle of us and as Jack and I had both cum, I wanted to return to favour for Rach. I went down on her until she came as Jack caressed her body and kissed her, eventually returning to my side of the bed. With Rach in the middle we all slept peacefully until the early afternoon.

It was all a bit surreal and dreamlike to be honest and we were quite happy to discuss it over a coffee the next morning. It was just one of those crazy things that happened and who knows? Hopefully the three of us will go out again next Boxing Day!



Boxing Day Sale



It was the first Christmas with my Master, and what a beautiful one it was. No material item or special celebration was needed as the gift of proper and effective ownership gave me so much peace, happiness and satisfaction in living-it was one of the greatest presents I have ever received. 

By Christmas night I was having extreme urges, feeling so sexually charged that I just wanted him to fuck me in all sorts of ways. As our relationship progressed he was right, there is much more pleasure to be gained apart from sticking a cock into a wet hole. But sometimes the primal need is overwhelming. 

I begged him for it, but he said he would allow me to masturbate instead. I was happy, he sat on the bed with his upper body against the bedhead. I sat on my ankles facing him, caressing my breasts and vigorously thrusting my fingers into my cunt dripping with wasted cocklube as he looked on. My eyes were burning and teary with lust. I stared at his divine cock, imagining its perfect head pressing into me, its hard thickness and throbbing veins filling me up again and again. I came hard and was content for now, but still had an unsatisfied ache. 

I absolutely love a sale. The next day I decide to check out some Boxing Day sales in the mall with my friend. My Master allowed me to, but he told me to be back by 6pm for some training with my new anal toys. It was no problem, I am always on time. But today was different, I got so carried away in frivolous purchases that I did not notice time passing and when I did my heart leapt in fright, I was like the little piggy crying and running all the way home. 

Tick-tock. 6.59pm. I was almost an hour late, and my neighbour stopped me at the gate to wish me a Merry Christmas, only to delay my inevitable punishment. By the time I stepped inside the house it was 7.03pm. He was sitting at the table, calm, blowing smoke rings into the chilly air. "Computer room." I obliged to hurry there, but I knew it was a place of painful restraint and little affection. It was his cold workspace save for two chains dangling from the ceiling. 

My clothes came off in a heartbeat. "Bend over. Spread." As I placed my elbows on the computer desk and spread my legs apart to expose my brown cunt and ass, I noticed the three anal plugs laid out, perhaps they were previously placed elsewhere in preparation for my training. I heard him spit and soon felt the warm mouthlube on my quivering asshole. Then I saw him grab the largest one, far too thick for my inexperienced hole. With no mercy he pushed it into me, but it resisted and slipped off, its head not even remotely entering its destination. With one hand he steadied me and with the other he rammed it in, as I shrieked with the painful stretching. It was in, filling me up so much that I felt a lump in my throat. I swore that my hole was torn but I felt no trickle of blood.

He locked my ankles close together with his metal cuffs, so as it ensure that the anal plug would not escape. He looked me in the eye and pointed to the spot below the suspended chains. My movement limited, the control of the anal plug in me, the metal cuffs too tight that they pressed into my ankle bone, I attempted to walk but shuffled painfully for the 6 feet journey. My face was distorted with the pain I felt and tears streamed down my face in fear.

He snapped my hands together to the chains, above my head. He stepped back, surveying my body with his eyes. I looked on as he walked to the shelf in the room and retrieved a digital printer cable. Black, thick with two heads, one to plug into the printer and one for power.

"You will get one for every minute you were late." My eyes widened as I quickly calculated 63. 63 lashes?! And with that cable?! I wanted to say my safe word, I wanted to be safe from my destiny but I couldn't. I cried louder, I wailed, as the first lash connected with my skin. Every time the tough material slammed against my back it felt like a stroke of fire. He was steady and by the 15th lash my skin began to tear as the strokes landed on the same spots. I was screaming, louder than I ever had, and in my mind numbing pain I wondered if it would alert the neighbours. I knew he thought this as well, he stopped and left the room, only to return with the ring gag. He put it on, fastening it tightly as the ring stretched my mouth wide open. It felt like the sides of my mouth were being ripped apart. 

"Now shut the fuck up." He continued the forceful whipping, my entire back was on fire by now, each lash adding to the flame. My body was giving up, I had been reduced to a vibrating constant whimper in my throat that barely escaped due to the mouth restraint. I was tired but wet. The pain along with the stimulation of the anal plug every time I writhed was making me come near to release.

By the 43rd lash I was delirious but contracting my cunt muscles, pulling my urine in and out. I could hold it no more, and soon it escaped my masochistic cunt. It did not gush out but trickled slowly as I orgasmed and uttered the name of my Master, the one who dealt me such a cruel fate. I looked down and saw stripes of hot pee streaming down my legs.

I lost count, but soon it was over. He released my hands and legs and I fall in slow motion to the floor, my joints and limbs exhausted. He sat on the computer chair and I knew I had to assume the position on the floor, sitting back on my heels with my hands on my knees. I mustered up the energy and did, only to see his cock at eye level. In my state, even with blood streaming down my back I still wished he would hoist me onto the computer desk and fuck me. His cock was throbbing and its veins even more bloody and angry. He smirked as he noticed me worshipping his member with my eyes. 

"Your throat must be parched." He stroked his cock forcefully and soon shot five long streams of thick white cum into the nearby wine glass that lives here. He makes a deep grunt of approval and wraps my hair around his wrist, tilting my head backwards. He empties the massive load into my ring gagged mouth. I gag as it pools at the back of my throat but gurgle it so that it doesn't drown me. When he sees all disappear he releases me, and I slump to the floor like a puppet as the anal plug shoots out of my ass.



Boxing Junkies Pt. 01



A little ditty about a boxer and female kickboxer. Full disclosure, they do not have sex in a gym, the summary was just a pun. 

________________________________

The first time I saw Mason Winger in the flesh was on an otherwise mundane Tuesday night. I went to O'Lydia's to hit the heavy bag in an attempt to blow off some steam after an obnoxious day at work. Finding my smooth rhythm of punches and kicks, knees and elbows, I felt an even veneer of sweat begin to form just as I was starting to work through my muddled haze of professional frustration. My dad had been a boxer and before I completed my law degree I had done local Muay Thai kickboxing competitions for years. For me, there is something about a smelly gym full of sweaty, hyper-macho men that will always feel like coming home. Not to mention sweating out negative vibes is always a good alternative to a psychological breakdown.

The night in question, after pushing myself to near exhaustion, I paused my assault long enough to take in some air and then a few massive gulps of water. Rubbing a rough white towel over my face and neck, I considered moving over to do some weights and that's when I spotted him, out of the corner of my eye, running drills with Tito in the ring that monopolized the already cramped gym. The fact that I failed to notice him sooner is a testament to my distracted state of mind. I was practically raised in O'Lydia's; in fact, Seamus O'Lydia himself had been my dad's closest friend and also my godfather. Considering how much time I spent at that gym, I knew all the regulars and O'Lydia's was not the sort of joint that attracted or welcomed outsiders. 

That being said, I recognized him as being more than some Joe blow off the street immediately; his massive black jaguar tattoo covering half his back was a dead giveaway as to identity. At the time, he was an up and comer in the boxing world and I had seen him fight on several occasions. I thought I remembered hearing that he might come to Boston to train for this next bout. However, I assumed it would be at the world class training facility downtown, and not the hole-in-the-wall gym where he was currently destroying the worn out pads held by Tito. 

Some say that meeting celebrities or athletes in person is always disappointing because they seem somehow smaller, less significant, more human than their media personas might indicate. For Mason, this was not the case at all, and seeing him live and in the flesh made me realize how much pictures and video did not do him justice. His body was massive: tall, tan, tattooed, and built like a bull with broad shoulders, bulky biceps, and a well-defined torso. He looked like the sort of guy little old ladies might cross the street to avoid, but his wide grin also indicated he was the kind of gentle giant who would carry your groceries or help you move. He was smiling then, as he backed Tito into the corner, pounding away at a relentless pace, but with such aplomb and grace that it was mesmerizing. His obvious ferocity combined with his playful babyface made for an intoxicating mix that had my heart jumping and breath panting even though I was well into a rest. Nothing could have prepared me for the way my body reacted to seeing him in my gym, looking sinfully sexy and delightfully lively to boot. 

Unable to help myself, I kept looking, nursing my water bottle as an excuse and practically drooling. Luckily, he had also attracted the attention of the other seven or so men who were also there to lift weights or whatnot. In our little boxing haven, Mason was an oddity, a solid professional with a better than decent record who was expected to make a serious run for the title very soon. The men watched as if they might learn a thing or two. I watched because seeing him in action was a true thing of beauty. Shirtless and sweaty, muscles popping and jerking with every move, heavy and hot breath stuttering out between his smiling lips; everything about his display was turning me on. He was, in a word, beautiful. Considering I had seen enough half naked men in that gym to fill the spank banks of every woman on earth, I knew there was something unique about Mason, even if I was unable to describe exactly what it was. 

I watched him, for far too long, until I felt like a certifiable pervert. And then I tried to resume my workout, to no avail. I was far too distracted to concentrate on anything besides the moist throbbing between my thighs. So, I went home.

The second time I was Mason Winger was later that night, as I laid in bed and conjured up images of him from behind closed eyes. The way he bobbed and weaved when Tito went on the offensive, sweat literally dripping off his sinewy body and making me want to run my tongue over every inch of his heated flesh. His laugh that resounded loudly in the tiny gym and reverberated through my entire body. Those pale green eyes that when combined when his dirty blond hair and the sharp angles of his face made him look like a Scandinavian God. I thought about how sweet he had been, offering tips and pointers to the men training alongside him, even though they had no chance of ever going pro. This, his genuine generosity and attentive nature, was what really pissed me off. Hot guys, especially at the gym, are a dime a dozen, but Mason was also just really...nice. Damn him.

I flipped onto my back in frustration and, with his entire being the only thing on my mind, shoved a hand under the waistband of my shorts and sunk two fingers into the wet heat of my pussy. I closed my eyes and saw him again; he had me pressed against the wall of the locker room at O'Lydia's, which was really nothing more than a hallway to nowhere packed with skinny metal storage towers. I could almost feel his full lips working my neck, his hard cock pressed against my center, one hand on the back of my head threaded in my hair, the other on my hip forcing our bodies closer together. I heard his deep, rumbling voice uttering filthy obscenities and just as I was about to reach down and palm his dick, I came with a short gasp, my legs jerking against the mattress as my eyes snapped open, shattering the picture of bliss I had spent so long crafting. With an unsatisfied sigh, I flipped back onto my stomach, pulling an extra pillow against my body and attempting to find sleep. 

Annoyed, not only because Mason had evoked such a visceral reaction, but also because my self-induced orgasm brought me no relief, I tossed and turned. At around 3 a.m. I barely stopped myself from checking when his fight was schedule for to figure out how long I would have to put up with him haunting my town and my thoughts. There were about a million reasons I should have forgotten all about Mason, but as soon as I had them organized and cataloged in my mind, they suddenly seemed irrelevant in the all-consuming, all-distracting shadow of his eyes, that smile, his body, God, his body, that laugh... 

The third time I saw Mason Winger, a few weeks later, my only thought was, "Goddamn it, I have been avoiding the gym because I can't fucking trust my body not to react around you, so how dare you show up my Starbucks, mine, looking hot as shit!?" Externally, I maintained my composure and did the rational thing: pretended I had no clue who he was and avoided eye contact at all costs. Even when I saw him staring at me in my peripheral vision as I waited for my drink. And even when I felt him come up to the condiment bar where I was shaking some cinnamon onto my Chai with already jittery hands. 

When he spoke, my resolve crumbled. "Hey." Lord, he smelled good up close. So much so that my deep breath didn't help to calm my pumping blood at all.

I turned to look up at him, a rare sensation for a tall woman like me. "Good morning." 

"August, right?"

"Do I know you?" Hey, I'm a lawyer, lying is what we do.

He bit his lip as he chuckled softly, "Not really, sorry if this is creepy, but I recognized you." I raised an eyebrow at him in response even though I knew what he was going to say next. "Your picture's up at O'Lydia's. I assume you train there...?"

"Uh, yeah, I do." I was going to kill my godfather, no question. At least I knew it was good picture of me, one from my competition days when I was the best shape of my life.

"I was wondering when I'd meet you."

"Oh, yeah? Whys that?"

"Well I met all the other guys and training at such a small gym..." He paused and shrugged one massive shoulder. "I just wanna get to know everyone."

Christ, how I wanted him to know me, intimately. His sincerity was not helping me concentrate, but I managed, "Well, I'm nothing special."

He actually scoffed at me. "Not from what I hear, sounds like you're a hell of a kickboxer. Maybe you could teach me a thing or two." He winked at me and for a moment I felt like I was in a bad porno. As if in his next breath he was going to whip out his dick and start pounding my ass into oblivion. Not that I would have objected very much, but still. 

Luckily, a slightly elevated level of annoyance made me appear collected in the face of his obvious innuendo, which was, admittedly, more than welcome. I knew he was trying to be nice, but my career, or lack thereof, was not something I often cared to discuss. "Once upon a time, maybe. I just train for fun now."

"Hmm, fun...I think I remember what that was like. It's all work for me nowadays." He flashed his grin at me and I couldn't help but return it in kind. He was fucking adorable and I could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin even though we were no where close to touching. I felt an irrational desire to reach out and stroke his arm or run my fingers through the shaggy mohawk he sported. 

I mentally shook myself. "Well, Mason, it was nice chatting with you, but I need to get to work." I turned to leave, but his stifled laugh stopped me. "Something funny?"

"Just you, pretending not to know who I was."

Even as my cheeks flushed pink, I thought about giving him a hard knee to the stomach to teach him not to laugh at kickboxers. However, something about his demeanor made me feel almost...delicate, which only made me want to do bodily harm to him even more. Instead, I stammered, "I-I don't know who you are."

He laughed again before leaning down to whisper in my ear, "I never told you my name."

Shit motherfucker fuck shit. Before I could break through my embarrassment at being caught in a lie and the shiver that had rushed through my body at his sudden closeness, he was already halfway out the door. "See you around, August."

The fourth time I came face to face with Mason Winger, I thought I was prepared, but I totally wasn't. Since we had already met in awkward fashion, I gave up my boycott of O'Lydia's and returned to my normal routine. Unfortunately, it seemed that Mason had decided to share my unusual training hours while also endearing himself to pretty much everyone. Even when not faced with his incredible physique, charming wit, and mischievous smirk, I was subjected to men, grown adult men, fanboying over him nonstop. Apparently, Mason was the greatest thing to happen to our gym since reusable water bottles. Granted, I shared their appreciation for his talents and...other qualities, but that didn't mean I was going to admit it to any of them.

When at the gym, I did my very best to ignore him. Since he was actually there to work, it left him very little opportunity to bother me. That certainly doesn't mean I didn't notice him noticing me. His eyes found mine whenever I glanced, accidentally on purpose, in his direction. His conversations were loud and designed to draw me into engaging with him and whoever else was chatting. I resisted; even when he tried to claim Christy Martin was the best female boxer of all time. (Everyone fucking knows Regina Halmich would destroy her, easily.) When I saw him about to take a break and head toward me, I uncouthly, but unabashedly ran away, sometimes literally, leaving Mason to shout his goodbyes at my back.

Then, on one occasion, I was not so lucky as to avoid him. I was working the speed bag, my back to the rest of gym, blissfully unaware of the world. When Mason came suddenly in my line of vision as he leaned against the wall, his face about five inches from the bouncing bag, I almost lost my flow. Almost.

"Hey, thanks for not running away."

"You caught me off guard. Besides, I'm not done with my set."

"Never stopped you before."

What an annoying son of a bitch. I let out a deep sigh, feigning exasperation. "Something I can do for you, Winger?" He lowered his head to hide a laugh that didn't escape my notice, even during my bout of fierce concentration. "This dude, always chuckling at something."

"I was gonna made a dirty joke until -"

"Until you realized I'd probably already heard it several times, in this very gym, from men just like you?" I looked away from the bag to flash my own smug smile and didn't miss a beat. If he thought he was going to best me at wits, he had another thing coming. 

He didn't look amused. "There are no men like me, August, just me."

I summoned an eyeroll even though the tenor of his voice made me want to lick his throat in appreciation. "Quoting Jaime Lannister will not impress me."

"Sure about that?" My set was done, so I slowed to a stop before daring to look over. Pale eyes were halfway hooded and only one side of his mouth came up in a cool smile. I hated that my lust for him was so obvious that he felt confident enough to tease me. I forced the saliva pooling in my mouth back down my throat and broke his gaze to unwrap the tape from hands. Before I could even begin, he grabbed one of my hands to take over the task and I was so shocked by the intimacy of the gesture that I just stood there dumbfounded and let him do it. 

He proceeded in silence; his deft hands marred by cuts and bruises were surprisingly gentle. I didn't even object when his fingers lingered on my palm after removing the tape from one hand. I knew he could feel my pulse and my breathing, which should have returned to normal, was still elevated. I once again silently cursed his affect on me and tried to get myself under control. 

As he went to work on the other hand he said quietly, "Let me take you dinner on Friday."

Even though it was exactly what I wanted him to say, I also hated him for saying it. I just couldn't. "I can't do that, Mason." 

"Why not? I know you like me. Can I be more clear that I'm into you, too?"

Granted, he couldn't have been more obvious about his own attraction. I could feel his eyes on my body hours after his gaze had burned across my skin whenever we were in the same building. Still... "You like me because I'm the only female who trains here and thus probably the only one you see regularly."

He pursed his lips as he kept working on the tape. "I like you, because you're absolutely gorgeous." He stared at me hard and I think my heart stopped. "And you don't take any shit, which I appreciate. Plus, the more you run away, the more I wanna chase you." 

Mason's pursuit was a mental image bound to get me off in the near future. Instead of telling him that, I said, "Well, I guess I should stop running then."

This seemed to please him. "Even better. So, Friday works for you?"

He forced a smile from my lips, but I shook my head. "It's not you, really."

"So, let me take you out."

"I don't date guys from the gym."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Never?"

"Never fucking ever, ok?"

He cocked one eyebrow at me, but his hands kept at their work. "Whys that?"

I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly shy in the face of his prying. "I just don't."

He finished unwrapping my hand and then held it between his, warm and far too much skin on skin contact to allow me a clear mind. He leaned in, even quieter, "Why?"

I opened my mouth, to tell him the truth, or maybe to lie, or maybe to just fucking kiss him and be done with it, I'm not sure which was more likely to be honest. Seamus' voice cut me off before I started, "Oy, Winger, you paying us to drink coffee while you flirt with my goddaughter or what?"

We were met with a round of scattered laughter as Mason slowly released me and took his time about breaking our eye contact. "Yeah, right, boys. Break's over." He walked away and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. A cold shower and yet another masturbation session with him on my mind occupied my night.

The fifth time I saw Mason Winger he was bleeding profusely from his nose, due to a right jab...that I had thrown. To be honest, though, he asked for it. Practically begged me. To begin, he insisted I spar with him; this was his first mistake. He thought it would be a good exercise since I'm so much faster than him and any other heavy weights he'd face, so it would give him a chance to improve his footwork. Seamus agreed and practically threw me in the ring. Then, in an obvious attempt to push my buttons, Mason called me "baby girl" and told me I looked sexy with my brown locks braided down one side. My feelings about him aside, I would not be patronized in the ring, by anyone. So, I ran circles around him for a while, until I caught him off guard and then let my knuckles connect with the middle of his face. As he went down on one knee I grinned with pride. Baby girl my ass. 

My moment of joy was short lived, however. As I held the towel to stem the bleeding, Seamus gave me the what for. "Jesus, Auggie, the nose? Really? What if it's broken?"

"It's not." I had already checked.

"Mmum-ummum-en." I removed the towel so Mason could speak. "It's not broken."

"I don't give a shit, it could've been. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking your boy asked to spar with me, so I was sparing."

"Spar being the key word, spar, not maim."

"If you as his trainer think he can't handle a punch from a woman, how do you expect him to beat Jack fucking Travis in a few weeks?"

Mason laughed, but Seamus looked about ready to kill me as he jabbed a finger in my arm. "August Matthews, that is not the point here. And don't fucking act like you're some helpless female when you could still destroy 90% of the men who walk in here. And for the record -"

"Jesus fucking Christ, he's fine. Tell him you're fine." I moved the towel again.

"I'm fine, Shea."

Seamus was still not satisfied. "I should fucking choke you, Auggie. What if someone hears about this and Jack goes for his nose during the fight. I-"

"Shut it, Seamus, or I swear to God there is no bond, filial or otherwise, that will stop me from drawing blood from you too." I gave him my very best "fuck off" stare and, after throwing up his hands in surrender, he scampered off to annoy someone else. I dropped the towel to survey the damage. I checked again; it wasn't broken. "It's not broken."

Mason smirked. "I know." He was taking the whole thing quite well, actually. Most men might feel emasculated after being clobbered by a women, but he mostly just seemed impressed and kept smiling at me. As if I needed another reason to adore him. 

"And I'm not sorry."

"I know, and don't be. I deserved it." 

"Glad we agree." We sat for a moment in a silence thick with possibility until I stood, throwing the towel in the general direction of a laundry basket. "I gotta go."

Mason stood as well, towering over me. "This is the part where you offer to buy me dinner to make amends."

"We just agreed, I'm not sorry."

"So, offer to buy me dinner to ease my pain and suffering."

"Your bad porno lines are really...bad, you know?"

A laugh was his first response. "Point taken." He reached up to flip my braid over my shoulder to let it swing down my back. "I'll see you, lefty." In a moment of insanity, I almost grabbed his arm, until I thought better of it. I really didn't date guys from the gym, for several reasons, but only one that really mattered anymore. Mason, though, with every smile, every wisecrack, every casual touch to my person was slowly eroding any rational reasoning I could conjure. 




Boxing Junkies Pt. 02



This is a continuation of the August/Mason lust story. It is perfectly fine to read this installment on its own, but if you would like to see how they came together as a couple you can feel free to read part one. If you have ever watched boxing, you may have noticed that there are sometimes fights in the crowds; that was the inspiration for this story. All fighters and events are fictional. Trigger warning: there is a brief, casual reference to domestic violence. Also, if fighting, blood, and sweat aren't your thing, this is probably not the right fic for you.

*****

After weeks of training, Mason's fight with Jack Travis had finally arrived. The ten round heavyweight contest was scheduled as the opening bout for the Jamison/Williams card on HBO. Considering it was Mason's first televised event, he was understandably nervous. So when Seamus O'Lydia, his trainer and my godfather, sought me out in the crowd, I was more than willing to check in on Mason as requested. And when I poked my head into his dressing room, I wasn't surprised to find him alone, sitting with his head down in quiet contemplation.

"Knock, knock. Seamus said you wanted to see me?" 

Mason looked up and immediately came over to pull me in, closing the door behind him. Without another word, he kissed me with a passion normally reserved for those hey-I-haven't-seen-you-in-weeks occasions, even though we had just seen each other naked that same morning. At the time, we were in that delightful phase of our relationship where we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. 

Pressing me against the wall his tongue quickly licked through my lips to explore my mouth and I went with it, assuming Mason needed this for whatever reason. And it's not like I was going to deny a half-naked, gorgeously buff heavyweight fighter anything he asked for. Surprisingly, he kept it PG13, only groping me slightly over my clothes with his awkwardly gloved hands before eventually breaking his mouth away from mine. 

"Thanks. I needed that."

I patted his arms in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture. "No prob. How you feeling?"

Releasing me, Mason paced the room. "Good, good." He shook out his shoulders and released a deep breath. "Ok."

I didn't bother trying to follow him, but just watched him from a stationary position. "It's all good, babe. You put in the work, now you just need to relax and let your body do the rest. Stick to the game plan, fight your fight, don't get drawn in by him, and you'll be fine."

"Fine?"

"Yeah, fine. I'm not gonna say it's a shoe in because anything could happen."

He stopped to stare at me and spit out, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, coach."

As he turned away I hustled over and grabbed a hold of his face, forcing him to look at me and not resume his pacing. "Hey. Listen to me. If you just want someone to blow smoke up your ass, you got the wrong girl. I believe in you. I know you can beat Travis, but that doesn't mean you're going to. My dad always used to say that the biggest obstacle on the winning path is ego. Trust your body, use your mind, but don't get cocky. Seamus is here to tell you you're gonna win. I'm here to remind you that losing is a real possibility. And you're here to prove Seamus right. Got it?"

His eyes had slowly softened during my pep talk and now he smiled down at me. "Yeah, baby girl, I got it."

I planted a firm kiss on his lips. "You got this. Now fuck this guy up, cause I got money riding on this fight and I don't feel like losing it and dealing with your sour mood, too."

He smacked my ass hard enough to get my attention. "Get outta here that shit, Matthews."

In retaliation I pinched an exposed nipple as he jerked away laughing. "Good luck, Winger." I walked toward the door, but turned to give him one last smile before I left. "Oh, and if you win, I'll totally let you fuck me in the locker room."

"Shit, are you trying to distract me?"

I held a hand to my chest in mock horror. "Never! But think about this, even if you lose, I'll still blow you in the car on the way home."

He threw a towel at me and shouted as I closed the door, "You're a fucking bitch, August." I took no offense; I heard the smile in his voice as he said it.

Making my way back through the arena, I found my seat again and tried to calm myself down now that I had talked Mason through his shit. It wasn't just that I was nervous for him; I used to kick box, so I understood the pressure of competitions. My real point of worry was Seamus. Mason had taken a chance when he chose to train at O'Lydia's and not the major facility in Boston. If Mason didn't do well, it would be easy for him and everyone else to blame Seamus and his team for the loss. Or blame them for an unimpressive victory, for that matter.

I sat with Seamus's wife, Karen, and we shared several silent, but meaningful glances as we waited for the fight to start. We both knew what was on the line, but we also both knew it was totally out of our hands, so there was nothing more to say really.

By the time the fight kicked off, my blood was pumping nearly pure adrenaline through my veins and I was anxious to have it done, one way or the other. The first three rounds were fairly even, hard to score one way or the other. Of course, the biased girlfriend in me gave them to Mason, but the competitor in me knew that the judges could go either way, easily.

At the end of six was when I really started to panic. Mason was landing some clean shots, but so was Travis. And while Travis had wobbled Mason briefly in the fifth, Mason came back with an impressive flurry of punches that should have won him the round. However, at that point, all bets were off.

Heading into the eighth I was sure Mason was going to pull out a decision victory if nobody got knocked out. Pretty sure. Like fifty percent sure. Fuck. I was frustrated, so I could only imagine how Mason and Seamus were feeling. To add into all this, some asshole in the row behind me had decided that Mason was the most boring boxer had ever seen and was shouting his opinion very loudly and very obnoxiously, as he had been for pretty much the entire fight.

Finally, fed up and feeling helpless, I whipped around and unleashed all my pent up emotion. "Hey, shut the fuck up, seriously. You don't know shit about shit, so sit down."

As his friends laughed, the man in question eyed me ferociously. Considering I had twenty years of fight training and three inches of height on the guy, I was not intimidated in the least. "Like you do, bitch? Your boy there is stiff as a board, not doing nothing."

"He's methodical, not lazy. If you knew anything about boxing you could see that from a mile away."

"He's boring, so fuck you."

"I rest my case. If you had a valid argument, you wouldn't be reduced to childish blow offs."

"Lady, I know he's good looking, but the guy can't box for shit. So why don't you stop talking and choke on his dick." 

He turned to high five his friend and when he looked back at me I met his right eye with my left fist before leaping over the back of my chair into his aisle. Even though I was in a short blue cocktail dress and heels I was not going to be deterred. I felt Karen try to grab me, but I was too quick. Face to face with the asshole I hit him again, but he also managed to throw a good punch that connected with my jaw and left me momentarily stunned. As he wound up to hit me again, I slapped his hand away and hit him square on the nose. 

His friend, who at first had tried to stop the jerk from hitting me, now saw that his friend was the one who needed protection. As such, while I was distracted with pummeling the loud mouth, he landed a solid blow to the left side of my face that sent me tumbling back in my own row. 

At this point, half the crowd were watching us instead of Mason and Travis, thus bringing security quickly over. A lumbering man in a yellow shirt grabbed me from behind and set me my feet before going after the two guys I had fought with. 

As they were being led away, another guy in their row vehemently objected. "Hey, hey, she was the one who started throwing punches!" Since I was bleeding from my face and knuckles I really wasn't in a position to argue. Another member of security grabbed me and started to take me out of the building.

Karen, bless her heart, tried to protest, but to no avail. "It's alright, just tell Seamus what happened after the fight. He'll bail me out."

Sad to say, this was the not the first time I had been arrested for fighting. Though, it was the first time I was arrested in New Jersey, so that's something. As I was being processed, I asked the cops if they knew who won the fight, but apparently none of them were boxing fans.

One smart ass decided to help me get my priorities in line. "Listen, darling, you better be more concerned about getting a lawyer than some boxing match."

Even in handcuffs and possibly facing assault charges I was still unapologetically sassy. "You listen, dick face, I am a lawyer so you better watch your damn mouth before I sue you for sexual harassment."

An open-mouthed stare was my only response as another officer lead me to a holding cell. Since I knew Seamus would come get me I didn't even bother with a phone call. Instead, I sat in that dank, grey cell immensely pissed off, mostly at myself. Admittedly, I have a bit of a temper. And I really didn't know how I was going to explain my arrest to the legal ethics committee I was sure to face when I got back to Boston. I only prayed that I was charged with a misdemeanor, because a felony conviction would mean automatic disbarment.

The longer I sat there, the more I regretted what I had done. Sure, I wanted to defend Mason and myself, but I also just hate bullies and sometimes I still liked to feel like a tough girl. It was stupid and immature and I should have known better. In the midst of silently berating myself, a man popped up in my peripheral vision. 

I was shocked to see Mason, and not Seamus, standing outside my cell. He looked beat up, the right side of his face red and puffy, but damn he also just looked good, casual in his workout clothes and deliciously rough. Suddenly, I didn't give a shit about my arrest or its consequences anymore. I jumped up and we faced each other through the bars of my cell. "Did you win?"

"You're in jail, you have a black eye forming, and the only thing you wanna know is if I won the fight?"

I waved my hands impatiently. "Just shut up and tell me."

Mason smiled wide, thankfully he still had all his teeth. "Knockout, tenth round, Travis was out cold."

I pumped my fist. "Fuck yes. I knew you had it in you. Right hook?"

"Yeah, right hook, baby girl. Now, you wanna tell me about your fight?" I shrugged. "Don't gimme that shit, August. What happened?"

"Some guy got smart, so I popped him one." Mason raised an eyebrow at me. "Ok, so I popped him a few times. Fucking asshole deserved it."

"I hope you didn't do this defending my honor." When I didn't reply I thought Mason was going to explode with laughter. "You did, didn't you? Let me guess, this guy was talking trash about me, so you got up and hit him."

"To be fair, he was talking shit for seven rounds before I hit him, so I personally think I showed a high level of restraint." 

Mason nodded and considered that for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose so. Only problem is, if you get hit with felony charges you no longer have a career."

I hated him for reminding me of that, but it was also wonderfully surprising that he knew the repercussions I was facing without asking. We considered each other for a moment, until finally he cracked and let out a laugh. "Good thing the guy you beat up doesn't wanna press charges and you're only being fined for disturbing the peace."

"You fucking knew and you just let me stew about the possibility of losing my law license?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "You deserved it. Seamus is paying your fine. You'll be out in a minute."

"And when I am, I gonna beat your ass, prick."

In truth, I couldn't bring myself to injure Mason anymore. He was the winner, but he certainly didn't look like it. In the car on the way to our hotel his right eye was practically swelling shut right in front of me and his hands were raw as well. 

When he felt my gaze he looked over and said, "What a pair we make, huh?" Snuggling into his arm, taking a strange comfort in our shared physical injuries, I agreed.

At the hotel he insisted on taking me into the bathroom for some first aid, forcing me to sit on the closed toilet as he knelt in front of me. First, he put his fingers on my jawline near my ears. "Open. Now bite down." He moved his fingers down along my jaw. "Open." I slapped his hands away.

"It's not broken." 

He slapped my hands in return and put his back on my jaw. "Just humor me, Rocky." I let him feel along my jaw for fractures and dutifully opened and closed my mouth whenever he ask. Then, he grabbed a wash cloth and cleaned the small cut over my eyebrow, as well as the cuts on my hands, none of which were terrible.

As he put a tiny stip of bandage over the wound on my face he looked upset. "Shit, August, people are gonna think I did this to you."

I had to smile, the idea of this giant teddy bear harming me in anyway was just that laughable. He was huge, yes, but he was so sweet it almost gave me a toothache sometimes. "Please. If someone's that dumb you'll just point to your face and tell them I got you back good."

Mason smirked and rubbed my thighs exposed by the dress. "You really did this for me? Cause he was talking shit?"

I nodded. "The only person who gets to bad mouth you is me. And Seamus." Mason looked suddenly serious again and he moved his hands higher on my legs. "Are you mad? Feel like less of a man since a woman defended you?"

"Nope, kinda turns me on, actually. I like that you're not afraid to hit a man if he gets out of line. Keeps me grounded. Also, and I know this is very, very wrong of me, but I find it sexy as hell that you can take a punch." I glowed with satisfaction as his hands now shoved the dress up around my thighs to expose my bare pussy. At the sight of it, Mason grinned. "No panties..."

"Just how you like me."

"Mmm, got that right." I dutifully spread my thighs to allow him to run a finger through my slit as he kept his eyes locked on mine. Before he could slide a finger inside, I grabbed his wrist. 

"Come on, let's go to bed."

He leaned down to kiss my knees and rumbled out, "Good idea."

"No, no, for sleep." He looked up at me, more annoyed than I had ever seen him. "Seriously? You can't wanna fuck right now. Have you seen your face? And mine? We're a mess."

"We'll just have to be gentle then."

Mason was now forcing my legs apart as I tried to close them and licking up my inner thigh. When he reached my pussy, I instinctually popped my hips up and forward to allow him better access, releasing a throaty moan when his tongue met my clit. His voice was deep and whispering, "Yeah, that's it, rub your pussy on my face. Love it."

Mindful of his very swollen eye, I did as he asked, grinding myself against his mouth as his tongue laved at my soft, wet center. I used my hands on his massive back to steady myself as he continued to work. His beat up hands, still sticky from the tape of his wrappings, were holding onto my thighs so tightly I was already imagining the finger shaped bruises I would see tomorrow. Yeah, me and Mason never did do gentle very well. 

When I came, he moaned as he held me down and kept at it until I was screaming out his name and forced to come again in quick succession, never removing my eyes from his as he always demanded of me. And even after all that, Mason still licked at me, groaning and muttering praise. 

When he managed to tear his face away from my pussy, a hand wrapped around the back of my neck and pulled my lips toward his, being met with a brutal, claiming kiss. The pungent sweetness from my pussy mingled in our mouths as I drank it up and that, combined with the blood I tasted from a cut on his lip, turned me on even more.

"Mmm, I really, really like you all bloody and sweaty." 

He chuckled against my mouth. "You're a freak, August. But that's one of the things I like about you."

I kissed him harder in agreement. "You shower yet?"

"Nope, went right from the arena to pick up my little jail bird."

"Hmm, I think you need a shower, champ."

"So do you."

"Absolutely." He stood up to disrobe and I sat there for a moment to appreciate the view. His body, even racked with punishment was glorious: broad shoulders, narrow waist, hard arms, abs you could bounce a penny off, strong thighs, and then there was the fat, long cock between his hips that never failed to impress. 

Tossing his shirt at my head he chastised me. "Stop gawking and get naked."

Snapping out of it and jumping up, I turned so he could unzip my dress and then quickly peeled it off. Mason's hands immediately came to my exposed breasts. "I think I'm gonna burn all your underwear and bras when we get home. I fucking love the thought of your bare skin rubbing against your clothes all day."

"Mmmm." I liked it too, honestly. That's why his no panties mandate was always obeyed. That dress against my breasts and pussy all night had made me ravenous and not even a fist fight or two orgasms were slowing me down now that he had insisted on getting it on. I pushed him against the wall and our bodies slammed together, both of us wincing momentarily in pain. 

Mason could have manhandled me easily, but he allowed me to overpower him just for fun. He moaned into my mouth as I reached down and stroked his cock. Normally, I could have kissed and teased him for hours, but all the blood and sweat, his fight and mine releasing copious amount of adrenaline, the whole night had made me impatient to feel him inside me. Breathlessly I told him, "Christ, I need you. Fuck me. And don't be gentle."

He let out a growling groan and nipped at my bottom lip before turning me around and putting my hands on the sink. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled my hips back and rammed inside me. "Ooooh, fuck yes."

I felt his hand fist in my hair and he pulled my head back, already slamming his cock into me from behind. "You like that, baby girl?"

"Yes, oh God, yes. Harder." He complied, thrusting aggressively and twisting my wavy brown hair around his fist even tighter. I really hoped the sink was strong enough to withstand my holding on for dear life.

After situating one foot on the toilet to better leverage himself, Mason switched angles making me breathless. "Tell me you love it." 

"I fucking love it. Love your cock inside me." I snapped my hips back to meet his to illustrate my point.

"I know you do. That wet pussy just eats up this fat cock, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes." The sound of skin on skin was obscene and built the tension in my body at a ridiculous pace.

"I'm gonna fuck this pussy raw and you're gonna love it, aren't you?"

"Yeah, Mason, fuck me raw. Fuck me sore. Make me fucking come."

"Oh, you gonna come already?"

I whimpered, so close to the edge. "Yes, please. May I?"

Still fucking me, he reached a hand around and used it to pull me up right. His arm snaked around my body and his long fingers came up to wrap around my throat with the just the right amount of pressure. My pussy was pulsing around him at the sensation and I tried to hold back until he gave me permission, but it was painfully hard to do so. 

Mercifully, he twisted my head to meet his green-eyed stare and then smiled. "Then come for me, baby girl." And I did, grasping out raspy breath and shuddering against him, my pussy sucking his dick deeper with every wave of pleasure. When I finished, Mason leaned down and bit into the flesh of my shoulder before releasing inside me with a shout. 




Boxing Junkies Pt. 02



Out of breath and energy, I collapsed against the sink and Mason backed up to lean against the wall. "Ten rounds with any heavyweight could never drain me like you, baby girl. Never."

I flashed him a grin and tried to get my legs to work. "Shower for real now?"

"Sure, if you can control yourself."

I chortled, "That's highly unlikely." 

He came forward to draw me against him and kiss me slowly. Still at this task, he reached over to turn the shower on. "Good. I like your hands on me. Just promise me something."

I ran my palms up and down his sides affectionately. "What's that?"

"Keep picking fights with other men. Cause I really fucking like that, too."

Bless him, I smiled like a fool. "Will do."

We managed to at least get soaped up before he was hard again and taking me against the shower wall. We managed to get dry and into bed before he had me again. When I woke up in his arms, nestled against his side, breathing him in, and wonderfully sore, I was in heaven. And it was in that moment, reveling in his masculine smell and enjoying the warmth of his body that I realized that I had become quite attached to that rough and tumble, gym rat, macho jock. Also, my willingness to risk my law license by picking a fight to defend him was probably a good indicator as well. 

When he stirred and immediately slipped a hand between my thighs and pressed his plump lips to my neck, that was when I realized that perhaps Mason Winger was growing quite attached to his little kickboxing, tomboyish lawyer as well.



Boxing Junkies Pt. 03



Part three in the tale of August and Mason during which the D/s aspect of their relationship intensifies and August really, really likes it. Since the first two installments were focused on Mason's boxing world, this one is more about August's as a legal professional, though there is a little bit of boxing fun at the end. As always, you don't need to read the other stories to enjoy this one, but it will be more enjoyable if you do. I didn't use the BDSM main classification because the BDSM content is, in my opinion, pretty mild in the grand scheme of things. Full disclosure: this one is also full of romantic feelings and I will not apologize for it. The more I fall in love with the two of them, the sappier my writing seems to get. It is also quite long, but most of it is sex, so you're welcome.

*****

Some days I have no idea why I became a lawyer. Maybe because I wanted to prove to everyone in the neighborhood that I could, or prove to my dad that I was actually as smart as he thought I was, or maybe at some point in undergrad I lost my mind and just decided to just go with any fucking insane idea that popped in my head, like attending law school. In any case, that was where I ended up, a certified jock in a desk job. I, of course, indulged my true love of boxing and kickboxing during my free time. But some days, really bad days, I would sit at my desk, stare out the window at the river, and wish I had done anything with my life besides go to law school.

I was having one such day, an absolutely awful Wednesday, when everything suddenly took a turn for the awesome. And what followed was an evening that broadened my definition of pleasure.

Just after one in the afternoon, my secretary Annalise caught up with me in the office kitchen as I was coming back from lunch and making myself a cup of life-giving tea. "August, there you are. Mike was looking for you."

I rolled my eyes openly. "Of course he was. This day just keeps getting better and better. Ever since he blew the Henderson appeal he won't so much as file a Notice of Appearance until I check it for him."

"That's what you get for being the best." We walked down the hall together toward my office and she passed me a manila file folder. "The James' Motion for Summary Judgment that you had Will do. But if I were you -"

"Jesus, what the?"

"Yeah, I was gonna say, I took a look at it, pretty terrible. You're gonna wanna go through it with a fine-tooth comb."

"This is like first-year intern level garbage. Freaking...ugh. There goes my afternoon." 

Annalise snatched the file back from me. "Tell you what, I'll go through it first and fix all the grammar, spelling, and formatting errors. Then you can just worry about content, deal?"

I sighed and gave her a one-armed hug when we reached her desk. "You are a goddess."

She waved me off. "Yeah, yeah. Just remember that in a two weeks when my review is up." I gave her a wink and started toward my door before she spoke again. "Oh, shoot, sorry. There's also some guy in your office."

I turned around. "Some guy? What guy?"

"He didn't want to give me his name, said he was a friend. Tall, muscular, tattoos on his arms, blond hair, lovely green eyes, looked like a boxer, so maybe someone from your gym?" Annalise shrugged and I hid a smile. I knew exactly who it was. "It's ok that I put him in there? He was pretty insistent that he not wait out here."

"That's perfectly fine, Annalise. Can you, uh, hold all my calls for about an hour. And if anyone stops by, tell them I'm in with a client, ok?"

She flashed me a knowing smile. "You got it, boss."

I opened my door and just as I expected, my darling heavyweight Mason was playing on his phone while sitting in one of my visitors' chairs. He looked over at the sound of the door and smiled wide before standing to survey me.

I shut the door behind me and said, "I asked you to keep our relationship private at the gym, not in front of my co-workers. It doesn't matter if they know."

"I know, but I've grown to enjoy subterfuge, makes me feel all clandestine, or something." I walked over and greeted him with a kiss. "Damn, baby girl, is this how you always dress for work?" As he kissed me deeper, his arms wrapped around to grab my ass and pull my body flush against his. I was wearing a black pencil skirt, shiny black heels, and a billowy yellow top, and Mason groped every inch of me he could reach.

"Sure is. You like?" He pulled his face away from mine to look me up and down again.

"Oh, yeah. I like all this. Makes me wanna sit in your big, fancy chair and have you on your knees in front of me." He reared back and smacked my ass hard for emphasis. 

Even though my pussy pulsated at the thought of groveling before him, I gave his chest a stiff jab and he quickly released me. "I know your schedule is pretty wide open until your next fight, but did you really have nothing better to do than come and harass me at work?" I circled around my desk and plopped down in my big, fancy chair.

Mason resumed his seat and also his verbal molestation. "Oh, mama, I haven't even begun to harass you. And when I start, you'll know it. Those creamy thighs'll be wide open and my cock'll be buried in that sweet pussy you got hidden under that tight ass skirt."

His grin was childish, but his eyes were focused and earnest. I fought the urge to smile but failed. "You're a fool. And you should've called, we could've gone to lunch." He just shrugged; I continued, "So, what's up?"

He shifted slightly and cleared his throat like he had something to say but wasn't sure how to begin. I just waited. Finally he said, "Wanted to ask you something. In person."

"Ok...?"

"How much notice do you need to take off work, for say a week?"

"Two weeks, normally. But this place has been in shambles since one of the senior partners died, so right now, probably a month. Why?" I took a sip of my tea, wondering what he was up to. 

He got up and came around my desk to lean against it in front of me. "I wanna take you away somewhere, baby girl. Lay on a beach, get drunk everyday, and fuck you for about a week straight."

I couldn't have stifled that laugh if you had paid me a million bucks. "Yeah? Where did you have in mind?"

"Anywhere in the world you want. My treat."

"Mason, I -"

"I know, I know you make good money and you've got an independent streak a mile wide. But after that fight on HBO I've got the cash and a lot of interest for more fights." He grabbed both my hands. "That win was huge for me, August, and I know it's gonna be the difference I needed to start a run for the title."

"Trust me, I understand better than most how important that was, babe. And I am so, so proud of you. That's why you should let me treat you."

His eyes were hooded as he looked down at me and bit his lip. "You already do, several times a day."

He pulled me up and kissed me like he wanted to take me right there at my desk. And, Lord help me, I was about to let him. That's when I heard muffled shouting outside my office and with Mason's arms still around me, Mike burst into my office.

"Oh, sorry, August. I didn't realize you had someone in here."

Annalise now poked her head in the door looking exasperated. "That's why I said the words 'she has someone in there' to you, Mike. Several times."

Mason released me and looked amused more than anything. "Who's this, now?"

I answered, "Mike Daniels, he's an attorney here. And you met Annalise, my secretary, earlier." Before turning to glare at Mike, Mason smiled politely at her and Annalise issued a familiar wave back. 

Mike eyed Mason with equal malice. "And you are?"

Mason's reply was harsh and final. "None of your business." 

Annalise and I locked eyes and shared a smile. I stepped around Mason, patting his back as I did so. Men are so cute when they get territorial. "Mike, what do you need?"

Still staring at Mason, he responded, "Just wanted you look at that brief I was working on." Finally looking at me, he lowered his voice, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, why - oh, this guy?" I pointed a thumb at Mason over my shoulder. "Old friend."

Mike nodded slowly and leered at Mason again. "So, the brief?"

"I'll meet you in your office in an hour so we can go over it."

"But -"

"Goodbye, Mike." He looked like he was going to argue, but instead snapped his mouth shut and left in a huff. Annalise followed, closing the door.

Before I could turn around, Mason's arms were around my waist and his voice was deep in my ear. "Friend, huh?"

I let out a sigh as he started kissing my neck. "You're right, subterfuge is fun." I let out a yelp as his teeth dug in. 

"You think either of them bought that load of shit?"

"Nope, and I couldn't care less."

"Mmm. So, what do you say, friend, can I book us a trip somewhere hot?"

I could feel his half hard dick against my back and leaned into it. "Hmm, hot like this office? Hot like my pussy right now?"

Mason groaned into my skin and licked up my neck. "Yeah, hot like that."

"Sounds perfect, friend, but tell me this." I spun in his arms and laced my fingers together behind his neck. "Why were you afraid to ask me to go away with you?"

His nervous returned again, right before my eyes. "I don't know. I just, uh, didn't wanna scare you."

"With the terrifying idea of a much needed and much deserved vacation?"

"Well...yeah. A trip out of the country, a week just the two of us...that feels...serious, you know?"

Now I was nervous. "And you aren't sure if you want serious or...?"

"No, baby girl, no, you don't get it. I want it so bad. I just wasn't sure if you -"

"I want it. I want that with you, Mason." I kissed him hard, trying to convince him with my lips that I was all in. From what I was getting from his mouth, he felt the same. After only four months together we had never really talked about our relationship in the formal sense. And the fact that no one besides my godfather, his wife, and few close friends knew about us did give the whole thing a flighty vibe.

I was very into him, though, deadly serious, and quite frankly relieved that he felt the same. When he mumbled my name, I was about two seconds away from ripping off his clothes to show him just how serious I was. Too bad for me, he broke our kiss to stroke my face. "I gotta go before we get into too much trouble. But I'm glad...you know..."

"Me too." Have I mentioned how cute I find it when I make the normally cool and collected Mason stammer? Because it's pretty freaking cute. I kissed him again, not ready to get back to the piles of shit on my desk just yet. 

"Mmm. You coming over tonight?"

"Of course. You wanna order a pizza, watch the Velasquez/Brady fight, and then fuck until the food coma wears off and then fuck some more?"

I had meant it, but Mason laughed. "You're a dream come true, you know that?" I blushed under his affection and nuzzled my face against his palms that still cradled my cheeks. He planted one final, lingering kiss on my lips. "Ok, I'm outta here. Text me when you're on subway."

I spent the rest of the afternoon clearing off my desk, helping Mike, and trying to deal with the garbage Will had passed off on me. By the time I made it to Mason's place it was late, I was exhausted, and very much looking forward to a lazy evening. Someone, however, had other plans.

Mason greeted me at the door in a black suit, black silk tie, and crisp white shirt that all fit him like a dream. Considering that I rarely saw him in anything other than sweat pants, athletic shorts, and sweat stained t-shirts, I was taken aback. And more than a little turned on.

"Ms. Matthews."

"Uh, Mr. Winger." He let me pass and I tossed my purse and briefcase on table by the door, about ready to jump on him. He looked so damn good. "I didn't know you even owned a suit."

He looked pleased as punch and brushed himself off. "Nice, eh? It was supposed to be ready for the Travis fight, but the tailor ran behind so I just got it last week. I clean up good, right?"

Goddamn right he did. "Uh, yeah, real good. But I thought we were staying in?"

Coming toward me he said, "Oh, we are. I just thought we could play a little game." He eyed me lustfully and I instantly liked where he was going with this.

Remembering how sexy he found my office attire, I thought I knew what he had in mind. "Like an office romance game?"

"Heh, yeah. I can be the boss and you can be my...secretary."

I reached up to run my fingers through his shaggy blond mohawk. "Mmm, sir, yes, sir."

He leaned down and brushed his lips lightly over mine, reaching out to tease me slightly with his tongue. One hand cupped my ass and the other traced across the tops of my breasts and collar bones. He whispered against my mouth, "You know I know what you like, but I wanna get a little intense, so do you want a safeword?" 

I swear I could have come just from that utterance: his voice, the absolute truth of his assertion, and his ceaseless concern for me was all a little too much when combined. I managed to gasp out, "Miranda."

He chuckled softly at my legal joke and said, "Good girl." Then he broke off all contact and I nearly fell over. 

He left me standing there as he took a seat on his beloved brown recliner in the living room space just a few feet from the door. "Now, bring me the Smith file."

I held back a giggle, determined to play this seriously. "Of course, sir." I looked around. "Um, and that would be...where?"

He pointed to the bottom of the coffee table in front of him. Heels clicking on the hardwood floor, I sashayed over and bending at the hips, grabbed a plain folder from the bottom shelf of the table. I felt his eyes burning into my back as I stood up slowly and turned to face him. "This one, sir?"

He licked his lips and nodded. I took one step toward him and then dropped the file on the left side of his chair instead of in his out stretched hands. "Oops. So sorry, sir. Let me get that." 

Stepping between his wide open thighs, I bent over from the hips once more to grab the file, putting my ass almost directly in his face. Before I could stand up, I felt his hand slip under my skirt, quickly making its way along my thigh and up to my pussy. I braced my hands on the side of the chair, the file forgotten, and let out a breathy moan.

"Why, Ms. Matthews, you seem to have forgotten your panties today." My first instinct was to reply with a sassy remark about how he always insisted I never wear panties so what did he expect to find. However, since apparently he was playing Mason my boss and not Mason my lover that night, I went with it. 

"Indeed, sir, I think I must have." I was already dripping for him so two fingers slipped easily into my channel. My skirt being tight, I was unable to really spread for him, which only made the whole thing even more arousing.

His free hand stroked the back of my neck and his breath was hot in my ear. "That was very naughty of you, Ms. Matthews. Tell me, did you feel like a little slut, your bare ass just a few inches away from being exposed to your colleagues?" He worked his fingers in and out slowly as I struggled to find my words. 

"Ugh, yes, sir, I did."

"And you liked it."

It wasn't a question, but I answered him. "Yes, very much so." He paused and his hand stilled. "Sir. Yes, sir, very much so, sir."

He resumed pumping his long, thick digits into my pussy. "I should have you over my knee for bringing this sort of behavior into my office, you know that?"

"Ugh. Please, sir, is that necessary?"

"Oh, I think it is." He removed his hands from pussy and neck and used both of them to shove my skirt up over my hips, exposing my bare bottom half. He tisked and ran a palm over one round cheek. "Such a pity, all this pale skin. I would love to see it turn pink, maybe even bright cherry red. What do you think, Ms. Matthews?"

Panting I replied, "Yes, yes, sir. I always liked the color."

"Which color, pink or red?"

"Red, sir. Dark red."

"Put your hands on the coffee table." I maneuvered myself as he asked, palms on the coffee table, legs straight, bare ass in the air and in his face. When I felt one of his colossal hands come down on my ass for the first time I clenched and leaned my hips closer to him.

"Look at you, naughty little secretary, leaning into your punishment." His hand connected again and again and again. Mason, being a heavyweight boxer, was quite capable of truly harming me if he chose to do so. The fact that I could feel him holding back his power and giving me just enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain was deliciously intoxicating. It was his control, over himself and me, that really had me moaning nonstop. I had played the dom/sub game somewhat in the past and never really enjoyed it that much. With Mason, though, it just felt...perfect. 

In the middle of a resounding smack, I felt overcome with fondness for him and said, "Thank you, sir."

He stilled. "I'm not even done and you're thanking me already?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Winger."

"Why?"

I turned to look at him over my shoulder, not wanting to break the mood, but also feeling sort of sappy, which was quite odd considering what the hell was happening in his living room at the time. "Because you've always been a good...boss to me."

He smiled and winked, understanding that I meant more than just today, more than just this game. "And you, Ms. Matthews, are by far my favorite employee. " His hand met my ass yet again and he continued to give me several good, hard, echoing whacks, each punctuated by a gasping moan escaping from my lips. 

He continued to work my ass, occasionally pausing to stroke my pussy and use the wetness from it to increase the potency of the whacks. I could feel my skin turn increasingly darker shades of pink, and then, after a little more time, red. His apartment was cool and the breeze created by his smacks added another layer of sensation that cooled my skin just before it was set burning again.

Just when I thought I was about ready to call uncle, Mason ran a soothing palm over both cheeks before licking at my pussy briefly. 

"You've taken this so well, Ms. Matthews. I think a little treat is in order."

"Please, please yes. Sir." I heard him scoot forward on the chair before he lightly grabbed my hips, mindful of my sore bottom, and then tongued at my clit. My knees started to give out, but I snapped them back into place, though not soon enough. He landed several more well positioned smacks on my ass.

"If you can't handle your treat, I will stop."

"No, sir, I can. I can handle it, please."

In reply he licked at my clit once more before running his tongue back along the length of my slit until he reached my asshole, which he circled with just as much care. I spread my legs further and forced my knees to behave as he came back through to repeat the motion.

He laved lovingly at my cunt, alternating between tending to my clit and sucking at my inner labias. I let out a harsh groan and was starting to thrust my hips back to meet his mouth. And just as I was about to come, Mason removed his mouth from the equation, leaving me to let out a frustrated moan.

"I'm quite hungry, Ms. Matthews and sad to say that your pussy isn't filling me up."

"I'm sorry, sir. I wish I had a more substantial offering." I bit my lip to stop a laugh from rising up and I heard him fighting back the urge as well. "How can I remedy the situation, Mr. Winger?"

Both of us back on track, he pointed to his cell phone on the coffee table. "Order me a pizza and we'll see if I can't tide myself over until it gets here." I started to stand up, but a hand coming down repeatedly on my ass stopped me. "I didn't say you could move."

"Of course, sorry, sir." I maintained my position and reached forward to grab his phone. As I was dialing our favorite place, Mason's soothing palms were doing their work again on my ass. When my call was answered and I was about to speak, his mouth returned to my pussy and I let out a wanton gasp right as the pizza guy greeted me.




Boxing Junkies Pt. 03



I tried to recover as best I could with Mason back to taking me apart with his tongue. "Uh, ugh, sorry. I'd like to place an order for, uh, oh...delivery, please."

Thankfully, the guy was entirely distracted or just too annoyed with life to care that it was clear to anyone I was being serviced. "Yeah, sure, what can I get you?"

"Give me one large pepperoni. Fuck...I'm sorry. And one medium ham and pineapple. Mmmm, ugh." Mason had brought me near to an orgasm already and if I hadn't been enjoying it so much I would have hated him for embarrassing me like that. 

"Address?" I was panting silently, about to come, and unable to respond. "Hello?" Mason removed his mouth and gave me a few spanks. 

I sobered quickly. "Yes, sorry." I rattled off his address and then gave my name.

"August Matthews?"

"Ugh, yeah?"

"Hey, it's Jim! Jim Bantam. We used to spar together, years back."

Of course it was, and just as Mason's tongue was on my clit again. "Oh, hey, Jim." I muffled a scream. "Mmm, how are things?"

I could feel Mason smiling against my cunt at my attempt to be polite in spite of my precarious position. "Shit, man, really great. You still training at O'Lydia's?"

I was going to come and my brain had turned to mush. "Yes, yes, yeah, I am."

I started coming and Mason licked me faster. When my knees wobbled, Mason kept his mouth on my pussy, but spanked both cheeks with his palms until I locked my legs straight. I vaguely heard Jim, "That's great. Well, tell Seamus I said hi, ok?"

"Uh, oh yeah, I will, totally...yes!"

"Um, ok. Give me 45 minutes for the pizza, alright?"

Coming down from my orgasm, I had allowed my arms to collapse so my elbows were on the table and I sounded like I had just run a marathon. "Sounds good. Pleasure talking to you, Jim."

I hung up just as laughter was ripped from Mason's throat. I had to let out a breathy giggle as well. I looked back to meet his eyes and he was smiling uncontrollably. "That was good, baby girl. Very good."

"Thank you, sir."

"Stand up." I did, my legs finding their strength again. "Lose the clothes." As he watched, kicking off my heels, I very carefully pulled the skirt over my ass and down my legs, then peeled off my shirt, and finally my bra. 

Mason ran his eyes over my body for several moments. "Beautiful. Let me see your ass." I turned and stuck it out for him. "Perfect. Just red enough I think." I turned back around to face his smile. "Come here, baby girl."

I crawled onto his lap and into his outstretched arms, delicately sitting down on my ass that was on fire in the best way. He just held me for a moment, mindlessly running his hands up and down my back as I snuggled against his pecs. "How are you feeling, Ms. Matthews."

I let out a breath. "Fan-fucking-tastic, sir."

"Not ready for me to read you your Miranda rights?"

"Mmm, not even close." 

"Good. Take off my tie." I pulled my head away from his chest to do the job. Once done, I handed it to Mason. "Stand up, hands behind your back, your back to me." A shudder ran through me and I grinned wildly as I scrambled into position. Soon, the silk tie was wrapped and wrapped and then tied tightly around my wrists, my arms pulled back and making my ample breasts stick straight forward. "Still ok?"

"Fuck, yes."

He snickered. "Then get your slutty little ass on your knees where you belong." I imagine that very few men could say such a thing with the level of affection that Mason mustered. The man is gift to this world, let me tell you.

So, stark naked with my hands bound behind my back by way of Mason's tie, I dropped to my knees, tenderly resting my ass on my lower calves, and waited. And Mason, well, he just stared at me for a minute, smiling.

"Something wrong, sir?"

His hand came to rest on my cheek and I leaned into it. "I just like seeing you like this."

"I'll bet. Sir."

"Ha, no, not just like that. I mean, you're so...fierce with everyone all the time. I like that you allow yourself to be meek with me." I turned my head and kissed his palm. He continued, "I will never, ever take advantage of you. And I know you don't need my protection, but I wouldn't let anyone hurt you. I hope you know that." 

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and responded quietly. "It's because I don't need it that it means so much to me."

He nodded slowly and removed his hand from my face. "Show me how much it means to you, Ms. Matthews."

Practically salivating, I watched him undo his belt and pant's button, pull down his zipper, and remove his cock without bothering to shove his pants down. I'm not sure what was a bigger turn on: my bindings, his delicious looking cock, or the fact that he was still fully clothed and I was in my birthday suit on the floor in front of him.

As he spread his legs while stroking his cock, I shifted up onto my knees and made my way between his thighs. His free hand hooked around my neck and guided my head down until he could rub the tip of his erection across my lips. My anxious tongue darted out to lick at his smooth skin and Mason hissed. Reminiscent of our first kiss, he used his thumb to open my mouth and then pressed just about an inch of himself through my hot, panting breath.

My lips cradling his cock, my tongue sucking lightly, Mason moved both hands to the back of my head and gently pressed down muttering, "More."

He was thick and my mouth stretched to accommodate him, thankfully not letting me down. Mason let out a groan and as he wrapped a few strands of hair around his fingers, he pressed down again. "More."

Relaxing my jaw and the back of my throat, I worked my mouth further down his cock and his cock further down my throat as his hands guided me along. I choked slightly and Mason removed his hands, but I shook my head once, got myself under control, and hummed around his hardness. His hands tentatively returned to the back of my head and I felt the pressure of his fingers. "More."

I kept taking him in, allowing his hands to move my head until his cock was fully in my mouth and down my throat. When my lips reached his pelvis, he let out a long groan before shifting his hands to either side of my face and lifting my mouth up, and then back down his cock, setting his own, slow pace.

Letting him do as he pleased, he used my mouth to suck him off, alternating pulling my head down so his cock was down my throat and lifting until my lips wrapped around just the head. When a thin line of saliva dripped from the corner of my mouth, his thumb was there to wipe it up as he then licked the moisture from the digit into his own mouth. 

Mason's breathing was ragged and he waited until the last possible second to remove my mouth from him completely. As I sat back, flexing my jaw, he squeezed his eyes shut in attempt to get himself under control. Then, he crooked a finger at me and I stood once more. Grabbing a hold of my arm, he spun me around and untied my wrists, but only for a moment, as he soon retied them with my arms in front of my body.

While staring me down, Mason lifted his hips to work his pants down just slightly and then started to take off his suit coat.

"Sir, if I may ask something of you?"

"Since you were so good."

"Leave the shirt on, please. Just...unbutton it? I never get to see you in a suit and you wear it well."

Mason smiled, but didn't reply. He did, however, do as I asked, removing his suit coat, untucking and unbuttoning the shirt, but leaving it on over his arms. "Now, take a seat."

Hooking my bound hands around his neck, I steadied myself and put a knee on either side of his body. His cock so dangerous close to throbbing pussy had me breathless yet again. When I tried to work myself down on him, he stopped me.

With one hand wrapped firmly, but gently around my throat, another fisted around his cock and he rubbed the head through the wetness of my slit before nestling it under my hood to rub my clit. 

"I'm going to let you ride me." A whimper squeaked out from my lips at his words and also the feel of his smooth hardness caressing my folds. "And if you don't do a sufficient job, I will make you do it again and again and again and again until I'm satisfied that you are have been trained well enough. Yes?"

I forced my voice to work. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Slicking his cock up with my dripping arousal, he then lined it up with my entrance, and pulled my hips down as he thrust up at the same time. Both of us moaned at the sensation and after I pressed my forehead to his, I used my hands at the back of his neck to help leverage me as I rode him hard.

Probably unable to help himself, Mason's hips rose to meet mine every time and together we set a rhythmic pace. His hands gripped my hips, then rubbed my thighs, then traced circles on my back, then threaded in my hair, then wispily stroked my red ass, then were back my hips with his nails digging in.

When he brought them both around my throat and squeezed lightly, the tension in my body tightened and my pussy walls pulsed around his cock. I was barely able to stutter out, "Harder, please, sir."

"What was that, baby girl?"

"Choke me. Harder. Please. Sir."

Mason could only growl at me as he flexed both hands around my throat, tensing and releasing in time with our grinding hips. His eyes were fixed on mine and he issued yet another command. "Come, right now."

Forcing my eyes to stay open and connected with his, the electric waves of the orgasm rocked my body and I rode him faster. I was still coming when he released inside me with a groan and the warm liquid shooting along my walls only made me shake and flex even more.

Exhausted, my hands still hung around his neck as my arms went limp and I rested my face against his neck, where I could watch his pulse point slow down. He nuzzled his own face into my neck now. "That was good, but you can do better. Pencil in another lesson on my calendar, Ms. Matthews. 

I snorted out a laugh. "Absolutely, sir."

"Give me your hands."

I obeyed and he untied me, kissing the indentations made by the tautly pulled fabric. Both our lips formed lazy smiles and he kissed my lips for the first time in hours. I was lulled into such a dreamy state at that point that the knock on the door almost gave me a heartattack and I jerked in his arms.

"Mmm, pizza. I got it. Go to bed."

Ten minutes later, after Mason joined me with pizza, beer, and a tube of aloe for my ass, we were both naked and nestled on top of the covers of his giant king-sized bed watching Velasquez and Brady go to work. Mason was on his back, head against the pillows, I was laying on my stomach, head at the foot of the bed, to give my ass a much needed respite. Soon reenergized by pizza, I started shouting enthusiastically at the TV; I have never been a casual fan. Mason laughed my animated commentary. In the second round he challenged me, "Ok, Matthews, call it."

"Brady, knock out."

"Round?"

With a mouth full of pizza I muffled out, "Come on, no fair."

"Call it or don't, thems are the rules."

"Fine, before the tenth." Mason's look said enough. "Ok, sixth. You?"

"Velasquez by decision."

"Oh, ye of little faith, you are so wrong, my friend. Brady has heavy hands."

"Yeah, but Velasquez has a hard head."

Dammit. "True..." I looked back at the TV, about to change my call.

"No take backs, baby girl."

I glared over my shoulder. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Your big ass blue eyes get all squinty when you're thinking about changing your mind."

I sneered at him. "Do not."

"Do so."

"When have you ever watched me change my mind before?"

"At the gym, the day you popped me in the nose and then refused my dinner invitation, yet again. Your eyes got all squinty and then two days later you showed up at my apartment looking for sex." He wiggled his eyebrows at me. 

I could only smile at the memory of bloodying Mason's face after he had called me baby girl in the ring in a highly patronizing tone. Now when he said it, I just glowed.

Mason shoved another piece of pizza in his mouth and grinned back at me. "Tell me I'm wrong, baby girl, but I know that was when you changed your mind about me."

"You are wrong, I always liked you. That was just the day I changed my mind about acting on the impulse to jump your bones."

"Same thing."

"Not the same."

"Totally the same."

"Hmm, no, not at all."

Before I even heard the sheets rustle, Mason had me on my back with his hips pressed against mine. "You are an infuriatingly difficult woman, August."

"And you're a very hard man, Mason."

"Always, in more ways than one." His mouth came down my neck.

And while I leaned my head back to let him work, I also did it so I could keep my eye on the fight. This did not escape Mason's notice.

His teeth scraped over the thin skin over my collarbone. "I swear to Christ, I found the one girl who would rather watch boxing than have sex with her boyfriend."

I giggled, but still kept my eyes on the TV. "You love it. Besides we just had sex, very intense sex like fifteen minutes ago." I let out a gasp when Mason's mouth closed over a nipple and he worked his tongue around it. 

"But as you said, I'm hard."

"You planning on doing something about that?"

Mason groaned out a laugh against my breast. "You planning on letting me?"

I shimmied my body down the bed between his arms that propped up his body until my face was lined up with his and I could kiss him deeply. Then I flipped over and softly rubbed my ass against his dick. "Yes, but take me like this so I can watch the fight, ok, babe?"

Grunting with both amusement and probably some disbelief at my ridiculousness, Mason nudged my thighs apart and sank into my pussy.

I let out a sigh of contentment and worked my hips in time with his strokes. His breathy voice was hot in my ear. "You are the most absurd person I have ever met." 

"Mmm, awesome, the word you want, is awesome."

"That too, but also absurd."

"I'm a multitasker."

"You're insane." At that, he pulled my hips higher and shifted his thrusts to better stroke my g-shot. 

"Ugh, whatever. Oh, shit...did you see that uppercut?"

"Uh, I see Velazquez still standing."

"Shut it, Brady's got this."

"Bet me." Mason's breath was so ragged I wasn't sure what he had said.

"Bet you or bite you?"

"Ha, fuck, bet me."

Mason's mouth was working my shoulder and I propped myself up on my elbows to help him out, arching my back. "Ok, Brady wins, you have to fuck me in my office."

"I would have done that today if you'd asked me nicely. I only left because I was trying to be gentleman."

"Christ."

"Mmm-hmm, Velasquez wins, you have to clean my apartment, naked."

"Fine, but it has to be a decision for Velasquez."

"For you it has to be a sixth round knockout for Brady." I groaned in annoyance. "I told you, no take backs."

"God, you are the only person I have ever wanted to punch while they had their dick inside me."

"Punch me after, I wanna make you come before someone gets knocked down."

"Mmm, yes." Mason picked up the pace and I worked a hand under my body to rub over my clit. "You better hurry up, Velazquez looks wobbled."

"Fuck you, August, he's fine."

"You fuck me, just like that. Don't stop. Uh, yes, shit. Fuck!"

I came just as Brady took a knee after a mean uppercut from Velazquez. Mason laughed in triumph as he came and for me, the urge to punch him returned. 

And when Velazquez won the decision, I did punch him. But the next day I lived up to my end of the deal and cleaned his apartment, naked. What followed was well worth swallowing my pride for.



Boxing Junkies Pt. 01



The fact is, Mason was everything I never thought possible rolled into one fine looking package. One reason I stayed away from gym rats is because they usually can't handle a strong woman. However, Mason had just proved that he took no offense to my besting him in the ring. Another reason, they tend to be immature, but Mason was intelligent, articulate, and generally well mannered. He was clearly used to being dominant, but he wasn't pushy and never made me feel smothered by his attentions. He seemed fiercely possessive and protective, while also respectful of my autonomy. I wanted him, quite desperately at this point. So much so that I was looking for any excuse to indulge myself. Luckily, an old friend offered some great advice. 

That night Seamus called to yell at me some more. I let him. When he was done and we were friends again, I asked what he thought of Mason. "He's a good kid, mean right hook, but lead feet. He won't be one of the greats, but I'll be proud to stand in his corner. And yeah, I think he can definitely beat Jack fucking Travis, anyday."

"Hmm."

"Not the answer you were looking for?"

"No, that's all true."

"But?"

"But nothing."

"But you like him. Like...like him like him." Poor thing, he sounded so uncomfortable to be having that conversation with me and yet was willing to do it anyway. 

I hate to give him some shit about it, though. "Seamus, darling, I didn't know you were a teenaged girl."

"Fuck you, Auggie. Come on, what's the deal, then? Just ask him out, I know you're not shy."

"I've been thinking about it...but also thinking about dad. What he told me when I started training."

Seamus huffed out a laugh, "Yeah, I remember. Your dad always was a little overprotective of you."

"A little?"

I got a fully, hearty laugh this time. "Ok, more than a little, but he meant well." We both paused in silent remembrance of the hellion that was my dad. Seamus continued, "August, I know what he said made sense back then. It was for the best and I agreed with him. But that was a long time ago, you understand?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That maybe you should stop listening to something your father told you twenty years ago that isn't even relevant anymore. And if you're worried about the other guys...I don't know, but I don't imagine Mason is the type to talk shit. He strikes me as a stand up guy, right?"

Fair points. "You think dad would've liked Mason?"

"Probably. But, maybe you should focus on what you think of him instead."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew he was right. "Goodnight, old man."

The sixth time I saw Mason Winger, after several days of solitary deliberation, he was greeting me at the door of his apartment, wearing a pair of old grey sweatpants, no shirt, no socks.

He looked astonished to see me and even more so when I shoved a plate of cookies at him and barged passed. Before he even had the door closed I was already off and running. "Look, I know this is weird, but I just wanted to bring some cookies to say...whatever. I didn't make them, Shea's wife did, but I helped...sort of. Anyway, I-" 

"You ok? You seem hyper."

I held up a hand. "Just let me get this out." He nodded. I continued, "When I started training my dad would only let me come to the gym under one condition. He made me promise to never date any of the guys from O'Lydia's, ever. And I agreed with him, never balked at his stipulation. Since most of the dudes are like brothers to me, it was never an issue, but you...I mean, you're just...I don't have brotherly feelings about you. At all. Not friendly feelings, even. So...there's that."

Mason didn't move to interrupt me, sensing I wasn't quite done. "My dad died three years ago, but...I still never...I mean...it never occurred to me to date one of the guys. It took me years to earn their respect and I just think...if I was involved with someone who trains there, it'd fuck with the dynamic. I don't wanna be that girl, you know? It's just easier for me...being one of the boys. And you can't be one of the boys if you're fucking one of the boys, you know?" I shrugged, not sure if I had said too much or not enough. Every thought I had about Mason and my perception of our situation was shooting around in my head and I just prayed I had made myself somewhat clear.  

Mason had moved passed me to set the baked goods on the coffee table before turning to survey me. "You done?" 

I let out a breath. "I think so."

"That all makes sense and I totally get it. But, then, tell me why you came here. I know it wasn't to bring me cookies."

"Because I started thinking that maybe all that was bullshit and I've just been living inside my own head for too long. And when I asked Seamus what my dad would've thought of you, he reminded me that maybe that isn't the right question I need to ask myself."

Mason invaded my space, backed me toward the wall. I held back a gasp at how familiar it was to the first of many fantasies I had had about him. His voice was deep, but soft. His rich, woody scent filling my nose in his sudden nearness. "So, what's the answer?"

Tilting my head back, I managed, with more breath than words, "I...want you, Mason." He gave me a knowing smile, but even his smugness couldn't deter me. "Do you...uh, maybe still...?" 

To answer, he kissed me. And, oh, did he kiss me; plush, wet lips meeting mine with a lushness I never imagined possible. My now jelly knees almost gave out, but my back pressed against the wall and the softness of my chest pushed along the firmness of his front managed to keep me on my feet. I felt his teeth nibbling my bottom lip before he planted tiny, lethargic kisses on the corners of my mouth. He brought his hand up to cup my face and using his thumb, gently opened my mouth before delving in. 

When I sucked his tongue deeper, he groaned his approval. And when I reached between us to run my nails up his abs, his hips jerked against mine. He moved his mouth down my jaw to my neck as he grabbed the bottom hem of my shirt to peel it off. Being there with him, after imaging it in every way possible, felt unreal and wonderfully fulfilling. 

Sucking kisses down my torso he mumbled, "Mmmm, I'm glad you came over. I was just about to jerk off thinking of you."

"Ugh, yes." The thought of Mason's hand wrapped around his own dick made my pussy pulse in appreciation. But, before we continued, I needed to be clear. Well, as clear as I could be with his mouth on my skin. "Listen, I...if you wouldn't...the other guys...please."

He came up to kiss me delicately. "August, this is between you and me, no one else. I promise." I could only nod, mesmerized by his eyes up close, seeing the streaks of grey that gave them their subtle hue. 

I felt my bra snapped free under his hands and then hit the floor. A nipple was in his mouth before it even pebbled in the cool air. A tiny whimper escaped my lips and I was reward with his teeth coming together hard around the taut peak. 

My hands were everywhere they could reach, but it wasn't enough. They were itching to feel him, unfettered. As much as it pained me, I tugged on his hair to pull his face away from my breasts. When he rose, I immediately reached for his pants, shoving them down to reveal his smooth, hard cock. I've never been so grateful to see a man going commando. 

The sight of that lovely thing made me want to praise the Lord, so I dropped to my knees and took him into my mouth before he could even question my actions. He must have just come from the gym as he was pungent with sweat. And it was the best thing I had ever tasted. His clammy skin became drenched as I worked him enthusiastically, far too excited at the fulfillment of my desires to worry about form. Mason, like most men, didn't really care what I was doing so long as his dick had a home in the warmth of my mouth. 

I thought about sucking him off until he came down my throat, if only as a power play, but he didn't give me a chance, practically yanking me away from his dick with a grunt while he stepped out of his pants. Effortlessly, he lifted me in his arms to take me down the hall and turned the corner to his bedroom, where he set my feet on the ground.

His eyes burrowing down at me, he undid the button of my jeans before sinking down to his knees to pull them off, along with my pink thong. He didn't seem to care about my underwear, which was disappointing since I had bought it special for the occasion. 

As he let me step out of my pants I said jokingly, "You could've at least complemented my lingerie."

Looking up at my stark naked body he replied in all seriousness, "I prefer you like this. When you come over again, don't wear any panties."

His mouth was then immediately on my thighs, then my midsection, then my hips, so any response I might have mustered was lost to a symphony of gasping breaths and wanton moans. The roughness of his hands skimmed across the smooth expanse of my skin and I found myself leaning toward his touch wherever it might be or be headed. 

I felt electic, my body humming with tension. His mouth was the most delicious torture device known to man, roaming everywhere except the center of my being that was almost weeping for his attention. I uttered a single word, "Please."

His lips were on the inside of my thigh, his tongue dragging over my tender flesh. He chuckled; I wanted to stab him. "Please, what?"

"Please fucking get me off."

Another chuckle. I was definitely going to stab him. He stood and before I could make another smart remark, he slipped his thumb back into my mouth. When he removed it, he cupped my pussy and pressed the digit moist with my saliva to my clit and held it there.

I closed my eyes, about to burst at such a tiny gesture, but his other hand came up and gripped the back of my neck, asserting his authority. "No, you'll look at me when you come." And so I did, look at him and come, with his thumb barely moving, his fingers tightly fisted in my hair, eyes dark with both lust and pride as I shook in his arms, my nails digging into his biceps. 

Even when I was done, I wasn't satisfied; I needed more of everything. I pulled his face toward mine and took his mouth for my own. He returned my aggression in equal measure and a contest of dominance played out. I ceded to him, not because I didn't think I could win, but because men taking control really fucking turns me on. I might be a tough bitch in the ring and in court, but I'm also a woman raised by alpha male types. I have no desire to engage with weak or subservient men, especially not the bedroom. 

Sensing my acquiescence, he pushed harder, in every sense. Forcing his will on me during the kiss and backing me toward his bed that my ass met with a plop. I sat there in a stupor while he retrieved a condom before returning to me. Gone was his easy smile and banter, he was all business now. 

I scooted up the bed and he followed, planking his body over mine, allowing his sheathed hardness to burn against my flesh as he nuzzled his face into my neck and went to work with his teeth and tongue. When I reached down to grasp his cock, he grabbed both my wrists and pressed them firmly into the mattress, grinding his hips down to tease me even more as he sucked dark bruises onto my skin. 

Left with few options, I surrendered, understanding that this was not a man to be rushed. When he was satisfied I was squirming and moaning enough for him, he released one of my wrists and guided himself inside me. The breadth of his cock ensured that I felt every inch of him sliding seamlessly through my slick channel that was more than ready to hold him. 

With my mouth open in a silent plea, he slipped his tongue inside to roam once more. I whimpered with need as he just kissed me and refused to move. His weight on top of me not only stole any lingering breath, but also made it impossible for me to create any friction between us. Finally, he pulled back and then pushed back in, continuing at a pace so maddeningly slow that I began to regret letting him have his way. Both hands wrapped around my wrists once more he stroked as if he had all day and night to get the job done. 

My hips jerked up; his hands then held me down as he continued his languorous pace. I let out a moan rife with frustration; this asshole smiled. "You wanna come again, August?"

"Ugh, God, yes." But I also wanted him to keep breathless uttering my name like that.

"Ask me nicely."

I hated that his command made my pussy clench. And yet, I also loved it. "Fuck, please, can I come? Make me come, please."

He release his hold with one hand and brought his thumb to my clit once more, making one tiny circle around the bundle of nerves before removing the digit just as quickly as it had arrived. "Ugh, please?"

His thumb made another pass around my clit and then left. "Fuck you, Winger." He chuckled and slowed his thrusts even more, which made me want to light myself on fire with exasperation. He didn't return his thumb; I asked again, "Please?"

The thumb returned and before he could remove it after his customary rotation I said again, "Please." Another circle. "Please." Another; his thrusting increased slightly. "Please. Please. Please. Please. Please." He rewarded every plea with a pass over my clit and the rhythmic chant and reaction on his part was hypnotizing. 

"Look at me, August." Our eyes met, he smirked, and I came harder than before, harder than I had in a long time. Still coming down, he fucked me faster, and I just kept coming, my body jumping off the bed in uncontrolled, ungraceful spasms. The midst of it, I raked my fingers down his massive back and he growled his appreciation. 

When I was finally done, he returned his body flush on top of mine and resumed his slow pace, which after such a intense orgasm actually felt lovely. His kisses were sweet and lingering, his smile returned as he looked down at me fondly. I felt like my skin was glowing, from the sex, from his stare, from the heat in the room. The way he went from intense control to sweet affection felt intrinsically right and aroused every part of me: body, mind, and spirit. 

He continued to thrust and thrust, dragging every inch of himself along the walls of my pussy, stroking my g-spot with every pass. The tension built in my center once more until the slow friction of his pace became irksome yet again. 

Mason sensed this, since I made no effort to mask it, and slowed down even more. His ragged breath was on my throat and then moist in my ear. "Ask me nicely, baby girl."

In the ring, I punched in the nose for calling me that, but naked in his bed, his cock buried in the wet heat of my pussy, it made me arch my back and cry out with pleasure. "Please, please make me come."

"I don't think so." He came up to his knees, my hips elevated, and my legs draped over his massive thighs. He ceased fucking me as he held me there and I whined like a child. "Do it yourself."

Finally free to move against him, I used every ounce of strength I had left to jerk my hips upwards and impale myself on his dick. He let out a low groan of pleasure and brought one hand under my ass to help me along. Keeping my eyes on his and lifting to fuck him from the bottom, I brought a hand forward to rub furiously over my clit. 

The sight of me touching myself moved something in Mason and he growled while I could see him resisting the urge to fuck into me or kiss me or pinch my nipples or lick my skin, anything. Instead, he remained still and I did the work, thrusting up, rubbing my clit, gasping for breath. My free hand came to one of my breasts and pinched a nipple between thumb and forefinger. He bit his lip and continued to just watch me.

Muttering his name, I was so close. Even though I was doing the heavy lifting, his breathing was strangled when he said, "Tell me you're gonna come."

"I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come so hard all over your dick."

"Yeah, yeah, baby girl. Fuck that dick. Just like that. Don't stop. I'm gonna come, but only after you."

"Ugh, yes, yes, yes, yes...Mason!" I came, my hips grinding against his, a finger under the hood of my clit, my head snapping back, my entire body undulating off the mattress. As I shuddered and my hips lost strength, Mason dropped down with one hand on the bed and thrust deeply just a few times before he came as well, his cock pulsating in my still trembling pussy.

I let him collapse his weight on me for just a moment, until I jabbed him the ribs to get him to move so I could, finally, take a decent breath. He laughed, but also removed his bulk from on top of me. 

For several minutes, labored breathing was the only sign of life in the room. When I looked over at him, he was grinning with sleepy eyes. 

A calloused finger brushed my bangs aside and he said, "You know, you didn't look at me when you came the last time."

I choked out a laugh. "Yeah, well, shit happens."

"When I set rules, I expect you to follow them." 

Incredulous, I raised an eyebrow at him. He was smiling, but this motherfucker was serious. I had slept with bossy men, domineering men, dominating men, but never one this pompous and so...fucking sexy. Playing along seemed like the most pleasureable option, so I posed, "What are you gonna do? Punish me?"

His green eyes reflected nothing but naughtiness and I was nearly panting at that the thought of his retaliation. He took my hand and ran his tongue delicately over the pads of my fingers in act so simple and yet so arousing. I began to wonder if Mason had a thing about hands since he was perpetually putting his fingers in my mouth, or mine in his. "Maybe tomorrow. I have other things in mind right now." He playfully smacked my bare ass. "Now, go get me some cookies, woman."

"Not a fucking chance in hell, asshole."

He rolled back on top of me and I reveled in how his immensity made me feel so small. As he kissed me he mumbled contentedly, "Mmm, now that's my baby girl."