“Gonna mark this ass,” I growl, fingers digging into his flesh. “Gonna come so fucking deep you’ll taste it.”
His cock is trapped between our bodies, leaving wet streaks against my abs. I adjust my grip, supporting his entire weight with one arm while my other hand wraps around his length.
“Look at you,” I groan. “Taking my cock like you were made for it.”
Theo’s eyes lock with mine, dark and wild as I thrust up into him against the mirror. His expression shifts, something unhinged breaking loose behind those eyes.
“You think you’re fucking me?” he growls, voice suddenly harsh and demanding. “No, Daddy, I’m fuckingyou. I’m taking that cock exactly how I want it.”
The shift in his tone makes my rhythm falter. Jesus Christ.
“Feel how my ass is milking you?” He pants, grinding down against me. “I’ve been dreaming of this cock since Julian’s after-party. Imagining you losing control inside me again.”
His words are vicious, filthy, his voice commanding and yet desperate.
“You’re gonna fill me up, aren’t you?” He yanks my hair, forcing my head back. “Gonna pump that hot cum deep in my guts where it belongs?”
“Fuck, Theo?—”
“I fucking need it,” he hisses, his body clenching rhythmically around me. “Need your load breeding my tight little hole. Want to feel it leaking out of me for days.”
His words are sending me spiraling. I’ve never heard anything so filthy, so demanding, so fucking hot in my life.
“Give it to me,” he commands, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so fucking close. Want you to pump me full while I paint your chest.”
I fuck him against the mirrored wall harder, faster, my entire body tensing as I feel my orgasm building. Theo’s hand moves between us, stroking himself rapidly.
“That’s it,” he moans, his breathing ragged. “I can feel you getting bigger. You’re gonna blow, aren’t you, Daddy?”
I can’t form words, just grunts and groans as my hips snap upward.
“Now,” Theo demands, his body arching. “Fucking breed me NOW.”
I explode inside him with a roar, my entire body shuddering as I pump pulse after pulse of hot cum deep into his ass. Through my haze, I feel the warm splash of Theo’s release hitting my chest, his cock jerking between us as he paints my skin with thick ropes of cum.
15
VICTOR
Istride into the gym Monday morning with my mind razor sharp, every sense heightened. The fighters notice immediately—backs straightening, conversations dying mid-sentence as I scan the room. I hate knowing why I feel this way. Hate that getting fucked stupid by Theo has somehow cleared my head, made everything crystalline.
My phone buzzes. Marco’s text confirms what I already suspected: Dawson made his move. Two of my up-and-comers—Jenkins and Alvarez—approached with offers. Better purses. Guaranteed matches. The works.
“Get Jonah, Remy, and Cruz in my office. Now,” I bark at the nearest trainer.
Ten minutes later, my core team sits across from me. Jonah’s leg bounces with nervous energy. Remy leans back, face unreadable as always. Cruz has his tattoo art sketchbook open on his thigh, pencil moving in slow, steady lines even as the rest of them tense up. He draws when things get heavy. He told me once that it keeps him level.
“Dawson’s poaching fighters,” I say flatly. “Jenkins and Alvarez are considering jumping ship.”
“Fuck,” Cruz mutters.
I lean forward. “We’re restructuring contracts. Loyalty bonuses for fighters who’ve been with us over two years. Performance escalators. Ten percent across the board for championship contenders.”
My phone buzzes against my thigh. I ignore it.
“Can we afford that?” Jonah asks.
“We’re expanding our event calendar. Two major cards quarterly instead of one. Higher ticket prices for premium seats. Exclusive packages.” The plan unfolds from my mind fully formed, like I’ve been working on it for months instead of minutes. “And we leverage our reputation. Dawson can offer money, but we offer legitimacy.”
