Chapter 7

Ryder

Saturday 9.13am

I’m hoping she won’t talk as she eats, but halfway through her eggs, she squints at me.

“What did you do last Christmas Eve?” she asks.

I take a sip of my coffee to stall before I think about how to answer her. Considering it was my last professional fight, and happened before I jumped on a plane, I’m not sure if I should give her any information.

Everything leading up to that fight was supposed to be the culmination of seven year’s work, instead, it went sideways, just like everything always does around the holidays.

“I did what I always do. Went to Vegas, lost a shit load of money, got high, and had a threesome with a couple hookers.”

Her eyes pop as color washes over her cheeks. “Is that true?”

I cover a smile at how horrified she looks. “Nope. Aside from the Vegas bit. I was there for a match. Took too much of a beating to do anything but eat and sleep after.”

She frowns at me. “You lost?”

Even though it shouldn’t do, it still stings to have to say the words and we’re now in territory I shouldn’t be in, I shrug. “Yeah.”

Rather than push, she just finishes her food and picks up her coffee. “I can’t say I understand the appeal of watching two men beating the crap out of each other in a cage. It’s barbaric and uncivilized.”

I hold in a chuckle at that one as I think about the dozens of women, I’ve turned down play on a loop. “Millions of women across the globe do see the appeal.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Not me.”

I lean back in my chair and think about the DVDs and TV I have stashed in the loft. “Does that mean you wouldn’t want to see me fight?”

At the way her shoulders stiffen, I’m pretty sure I have my answer. I drain my coffee and push back from the table.

“Come with me and let me change your mind,” I say.

***

Millie

Since I am curious and the atmosphere is now decidedly pleasant, I follow him and climb the ladder after him.

The open loft space is larger than I thought, I can stand easily, and along with a lot of sealed containers that look military in origin, a lot of canned food and supplies, there’s also a two-seater couch, a DVD player, stacks of DVDs, and a TV set up.

While I take a seat, wondering what I’m in for, he chooses a DVD and plays it.

When a notice saying this is not for public consumption, he hands me the remote and steps towards the ladder.

“It’s a compilation of all my fights from my first to my last. I need to go take care of something, watch as long as it takes to convince you.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to be convinced.”

He just gives me a smug look, and disappears, leaving me looking at a smaller and younger version of him on screen.

While I know it’s all an act, it’s hard not to be impressed by his fighting physique, as he enters the cage.

If I had my phone handy, and if I had internet access, I’d be Googling him right now, but since I don’t, I content myself with watching Ryder dance around the cage with so much disdain for his opponent, it borders on arrogance.

I sit mesmerized as Ryder dominates fight after fight, and grapples with man after man leaving me in absolute awe of his stamina.

As the fights progress, Ryder goes from the youngest fighter in the UFC roster and underdog to crowd favorite. And if I understand the Las Vegas rank correctly, his odds seem to get better with each fight.

By the time I’ve watched several, I’m shifting in my seat, wincing, and holding my breath as I silently cheer for him to win.

And he does.

Time and time again.

The rules are so foreign, and it happens so quickly, most of the time I don’t understand why, or how he’s won.

But by piecing together the information given by the enthusiastic commentators, I learn that the fight I’m watching is a much bigger deal than the others and he is now competing in something called the Ultimate Fighting Championship.

If he wins, he’ll gain the World Welterweight Championship belt and a whopping two hundred thousand dollars.

As I look around the shabby cabin he’s living in, it’s baffling that he’s wound up here, alone, and about as far away from the hype I’m watching play out on screen.

According to the commentary, Ryder specializes in ‘submission’ which I can only guess has something to do with getting his opponent in a headlock, or a chokehold, or something else, that will incapacitate them.

As I sit through another round of introductions and the fight begins in earnest, I grip the edge of the couch until I lose feeling in my fingertips and I have to remind myself to breathe.

As he pins his opponent to the ground, my thoughts aren’t on the fight, but on Ryder’s personal life, and how he managed all that success.

Aside from the scantily clad women holding up the round notifications, there are hundreds more in the audience all looking at him like he’s a prize they want to fight over.

Given I know how skilled he is with his hands outside the cage, watching him half-naked and rolling around on another half-naked man, is both an aphrodisiac and pornographic.

And given the way my own body is reacting, I am not immune to the power of watching incredibly ripped men wrestle with each other until one of them submits.

I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here for, but I do know that at some point my brain switched off, and my hormones took full control.

I’ve never seen anything so erotic, and so violent. I don’t know whether to look away, laugh, or accept that I’m enjoying watching something I’d dismissed.

My breathing is rapid, and my nipples are rock hard. Every brutal punch, every splattering of blood, and every powerful kick from Ryder sends a jolt of electricity straight to my clitoris.

And despite my protest that I abhor this sort of thing, I know if I were on my own with no chance of discovery, I know I’d be unzipping my borrowed jeans and sliding my hand between my legs.

After last night, I have first-hand knowledge Ryder is just as powerful in the bedroom as he is in the ring.

I groan as flashes of last night come back to haunt me in the most teasing way.

Almost without my awareness, with the backdrop of Ryder pinning a man to the mat, the way he did me in bed, my hand has shifted to my crotch.

As the image of him writhing around the cage with another man, meshes with the memory of him on top of me, I release a moan and know there’s no way I’m not going to sleep with him again.

I’m caught between scolding myself and thinking about going in search of him, I miss the slight shake of the floor as he climbs the ladder.

As his opponent slams into the mat and Ryder wrestles with him, blood dripping from his nose and landing on his muscled torso, I turn around and find him holding my clothes with a half-smile on his face. “Still think it’s barbaric?”

“Yes. It’s absolutely disgusting,” I lie.

***

Ryder

Despite what she’s saying, she’s giving me the look.

It’s the ‘I’m willing to cheat, beg, steal, or pay you if you put your cock in me’ look. It’s the same look that’s gotten me into trouble too many times to mention.

I knew when I got into MMA, that violence and sex went hand in hand.

And for the most part, I was happy to keep the cockfighting stereotype going when it suited me.

But for this woman who swore she wasn’t into MMA, it’s going to be a whole lot of fun educating her on a number of things that have nothing to do with my previous life.

I drop her dry clothes on the floor and sit beside her. When her gaze drifts to my cock, I shove my hand up the shirt she borrowed from me.

When my fingers touch her flesh, she shivers even though I know my hands aren’t cold. “You liked it, didn’t you?” I say.

Her voice comes out husky as I rub her nipple. “Not at all,” she says.

I lean in and press a kiss to her neck, as my other hand slides down the top of the jeans she borrowed from me.

They’re so big on her, I can fit my hand inside easily. And when my fingers meet moisture, and she closes her eyes and moans, I know she does like watching me fight.

Just like all good girls like a bad boy. She wants to hate it. But she can’t.

I push my finger inside her and watch her face contort in pleasure. “Admit it, you liked watching me beat the shit out of other guys,” I say.

She relaxes her head on the couch and she arches her back as I pull my finger out and rub her clit. “I did not like it,” she whispers.

A smile twitches at my lips at her refusal to agree. But at the way her breathing is speeding as I carry on fingering her, I’m pretty sure I know how to get her to. “Your mouth is saying one thing but your pussy is saying another,” I say.

She just spreads her legs a little wider. “My pussy doesn’t get a vote,” she whimpers.

Considering how wet she is, that’s debatable, but I know when to yield in a match, so I give up trying to make her come with my fingers and yank her jeans down so she’s sitting naked from the waist down on my shitty little couch.

I get on my knees and spread her legs, liking the way she grabs my head and helps me bury my face in her pussy.

Gripping her thighs, I use my tongue to lick her until she’s quivering in my mouth and her entire body is shaking.

She explodes in a scream and I know I’ve got her cornered as she creams in my mouth.

The second she stills she leans forward and kisses me so hungrily, I know she’ll agree to anything I ask her to right now.

But her mind is elsewhere. She unbuckles my belt and unzips my jeans and takes a hold of my cock.

I switch positions so I’m on the couch, kick off my boots and jeans while she gets on her knees so she can suck my cock.

I grab the back of her head and watch as she slowly slides her mouth over my shaft.

Her tongue slips and slides as she looks up at me, humming in enjoyment as she rubs her fingertips over my ball sack.

I sink back into the couch, thinking about all the times I’ve sat up here, jerking off to the porn I brought with me, wondering if I’ll ever fuck a hot woman ever again.

She’s so good, and it’s been so long, I know if I let her carry on much longer, I’ll blow my load.

Given there are multiple other things I want to do to her, I push her back and grab her shoulders. “Come here,” I command.

I kiss her again, long, and deep, mouth pressed against hers as she straddles me.

Since it’s even hotter up here than on the ground floor, I tug off the rest of our clothes and carry on kissing her until I’m about to explode.

Just when I’m about to flip her over on her back, she grips the back of my head as I keep my mouth pressed against hers, fingers clutching at my neck as she slides over my cock.

She rocks back and forth, moving her incredible body in a way that leaves me gasping for breath.

When we’re both moaning, I grip her hips and manage to stand with my cock still inside her.

Mouths still pressed against each other, I push her against the wall and pump her hard.

With her moans of pleasure driving me on, and the way her nails are digging into my shoulders I keep pounding her until she’s coming and my legs are about to give out.

I walk her back to the couch, and like the way she’s disappointed I have to take my cock out of her to position myself.

When I get back inside her, she wraps her legs around me and digs her nails into my ass cheeks as I pound her into the worn sofa.

As I feel a climax start to build, she pushes my shoulders back and looks me dead in the eye. “Stay there. I want to watch you come,” she pants.

I manage a nod before molten fire erupts through my cock resounding through my body.

With my eyes closed, I can’t see if she’s watching me, but knowing she is, makes it even sexier than it already is.

At the tail end of my come, I thrush even harder, squeezing every part of pleasure from my body as I finish inside her.

I flop on my forearms and take a few seconds to steady my breathing and to give her a final kiss before I pull out.

When I slide out, still with a semi, she sighs happily. “Okay. You’ve converted me,” she says with a smile.

I don’t even gloat as I get off the couch and gesture to her clothes. “Get dressed. I have a surprise for you,” I say.

***

Millie

Saturday 2.34pm

The snow has stopped falling as we step back outside, but that doesn’t lessen the sense of isolation as Ryder and I stomp through the snow.

While it’s nice to be wearing my own clothes again, I’m so relaxed, and it was so cozy in the loft, I would have been happy to stay there, and try to get to the bottom of how and why Ryder came here.

But when I see what he was doing when I was watching his career highlights, I suck in a breath of frosty air.

In the middle of the snow is a huge claw foot bath with a fire burning underneath.

Steam is penetrating the frigid air, and the snow has melted around the bath to reveal decking, two chairs, and a rack with towels.

I turn to find Ryder staring at me with the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen since arriving. “My grandad made it the first summer we came to stay here. Hate to think how he was washing before that.”

I laugh and am so delighted I can finally get clean, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss his cold lips. “Thank you,” I whisper.

He shrugs. “I was due a bath anyway. I’ll use it after you.”

I tilt my head at him and narrow my eyes. “Then why tell me you had a surprise for me?”

His lips twitch but he remains stony-faced. “You getting in or are we going to stand here jabbering?”

I’m so eager my fingers are on my zipper and I’m tugging it down before he finishes the sentence.

Since there is a towel on the decking, I step beside it and take a seat so I can remove my boots.

Thankfully he leaves me alone, so I get to enjoy the bliss of sinking into a water bath without him watching.

The bath is a little scratchy, but it’s clean, and Ryder has even left a bar of soap on the towel.

Around me stand magnificent snow-covered trees, and through the steam, Ryder’s cabin looks incredibly charming.

As I appreciate the rugged beauty of the wildness around me, again it’s impossible not to wonder why Ryder came back here.

He seems to have fond memories of it, and his sister being close by must have been a factor, but why limit yourself to a basic cabin in the wilderness when you’ve earned a substantial amount of money in your short career?

If I thought he’d tell me, I would ask him, but I’m not about to break the uneasy truce between us by probing into his private life.

With a sigh, I lie back in the huge bath and close my eyes as I try to enjoy the warmth and the effort he went to.

Rather than think about Ryder’s motivation for living like a hermit, I reach for the soap and am pleased to find it’s a shampoo bar similar to ones I’ve used on camping trips.

I wash my hair and body as best as I can and watch the bubbles float on the water until my eyelids are drooping.

I have no idea how long I soak for, but when I raise a hand, my fingers have pruned and it’s getting dark.

I yawn and sit up slightly as I hear footsteps crunching through the snow. Ryder appears through the steam, wearing only his coat, and unlaced boots before he bends down to place more wood under the bottom of the bath.

I shift back, and raise my knees, wondering if he wants me to leave, but he doesn’t seem bothered as he kicks off his boots and unzips his coat to reveal his chiseled body.

A low grumbling sound comes from my throat as he climbs into the bath with me and sinks into the water with me.

He raises his arms and places them on the sides of the bath as he leans his head back.

Since he’s not asking me to leave, and there does seem to be room for us both, I stretch out of my legs so my feet are on his thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just slides his hand on my foot and holds it there seemingly unbothered by me invading his space.

Given how many times he’s told me he wants me gone, it’s enough to make me relax and risk a question. “Your grandfather left this to you in his will?” I guess.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but he does grant me a reply. “Yeah. And the land the retreat sits on. I didn’t want the land, and Cindy wanted to build her wellness center. It made sense.”

I keep looking at him through the steam, wondering how much I can ask him before he closes off again. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”

He opens one eye and frowns at me. “Are you going to keep talking?”

I frown back at him and blow out a sigh. “I guess not.”

When he doesn’t answer, and leans his head back, I decide I may as well leave him to it, and go see if my phone has dried out, but when I shift his hand closes over my foot. “Stay,” he murmurs.

I pull a face at him. “So, we can sit in silence?”

He releases a sigh and opens his eyes. “I don’t get lonely. But sometimes to stop myself going insane, I call Cindy and she comes here for a coffee and to drop off supplies.”

I nod slowly. “Do you ever go to the retreat?”

A dark look flashes across his face. “Not now she has guests, I don’t,” he mutters.

I burst out laughing as I imagine him being forced to participate in a ‘self-actualizing’ workshop. “I’m sure you’d be a hit. If you can be less of an asshole,” I say.

His voice comes out dripping with sarcasm. “Cindy’s been asking me to take a job teaching self-defense.”

It’s not the silliest idea, and if Ryder wasn’t so abrasive, he probably would be an ideal person to teach.

I chew on my lip as I think of the last lesson I had. I’m sorely out of practise and given we don’t have a lot of other things to do, it might be a good way to pass some of the time.

“Could you though?”

He shrugs his shoulders out of the water. “I guess so. If I had to.”

I eye him for a moment, taking in his broad shoulders, and the definition of his chest muscles. “Could you teach me? While I’m here.”

His eyebrow cocks, but at the smirk growing on his face, I already know he’s going to agree. “After lunch,” he says.