Ignite: (#11 The Beat and The Pulse) by Amity Cross

Author:Amity Cross [Cross, Amity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amity Cross
Published: 2017-09-26T18:30:00+00:00

11

Liam

I could’ve stayed all night in Ali’s bed. I’d wanted to.

I could have gone another three or four rounds with her if I’d wanted. Once more, right after we’d first come. Then again during the night when I woke with another erection, then in the morning. I could have woken her up from behind, slipping my cock through the pink lips between her legs, and she would have cried out for more.

Then we could have debated getting out of bed at all as I palmed her breasts, kissed her lips, and held her close.

Fuck, that was some dangerous shit I was thinking about.

From the look on her face, I doubted she’d ever been fucked like that in her life. I was also seriously wondering if any man had been able to get her off before I came along. If a man didn’t know what a woman orgasming on his cock felt like, then he was a pussy. It was the best feeling ever. Ali had milked me for everything I was worth.

Completely satisfying.

I went to the gym. I did my grocery shopping. I cooked my dinner. I went to The Underground and fought. I hung out with Faye. I did everything I normally did, but when I closed my eyes, I saw Ali.

A couple of days passed, and I didn’t hear from her. I’d told her one night was all I could do, but… I didn’t know why I was getting pissed about not getting a text from her. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it?

A fist slammed into the side of my face, and I stumbled.

The crowd let out a roar, stamping their feet on the bleachers and rattling the cage. Tasting blood, I spat, ducking just in time to miss a left hook from Renegade.

The guy had been fighting at The Underground for a few months and was still green. He shouldn’t have been able to land a hit on me—at least, not as easily as he just did. My mind was all over the place. I had to focus, or I would lose and be laughed right out of the cage.

Snarling, I punched from underneath and clipped him under his chin. He stumbled, and I launched myself at him, throwing him flat on his back with me on top.

Raising my fist, I hit him in the face, pounding his left eye. His skin turned red as I punched again, my knuckles splitting his eyebrow. Then he bucked underneath me, throwing my balance, and we rolled. A fist hit me in the mouth, tearing my lip open.

My head swam, my vision blurring. This fight had gone on for far too long.

We were pulled apart by the referee, and the fight resumed with us on our feet. Renegade danced before me, his fists held high, the wraps around his hands stained with my blood. He dripped with sweat, blood pouring from his eyebrow. I was sure I didn’t look any better. My mouth tasted like copper, and my teeth were probably red.

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