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While I tore at the Velcro around my wrist, her mouth went to my neck, tasting the sweat that still lingered on my body. With a free hand, I was able to remove the second glove quickly and once my fingers were able to wrap around her hair, I took control.
Tugging her ponytail, I positioned her mouth in front of me and stared into her eyes. “Doesn't matter? Does it?” I asked vaguely.
“Guess not,” she seethed back. She was still angry, but she had no intention of stopping the path we were about to take.
Using the control I had, I pushed her to her knees and held onto her head tightly. I made her look up at me, telling her with my eyes what I wanted her to do. She raised her gloves up, asking for help taking them off but I wanted to see her struggle.
“Figure it out, baby.” If she wanted to, she would make it work, which somehow eased my conscience when it came to how big of an asshole, I was with her. I just couldn't help it, she made me crazy.
She narrowed her eyes at me, not happy I was toying with her but not pulling away either. With her gloves, she tugged at the front of my shorts the best she could, getting frustrated with how much harder it was not having her hands free. I was equally as frustrated, but not enough to not enjoy watching her try harder and harder to get to my dick.
When she finally got my shorts down low enough, I pulled her head toward me. She opened her mouth, taking me in as far as she could. Her moan vibrated with me inside her mouth and although I was ashamed to admit, I almost came down her throat then and there.
Her gloved hands were holding steady on my thighs, so I pumped myself at my own pace, being sure she knew I was still in control. Her eyes made contact with mine, looking desperate. It made me smile, devilishly. If only she understood she had the same effect on me. That I was so desperate for her that all she had to do was say the words and I would drop to my knees for her as well.
Just thinking about tasting her again made me stop my movements and zone out. She took control, moving up and down, sucking like she was getting water through a coffee stick and hadn't had a drink in days.
I needed her to stop, I needed to get my control back. Without meaning to, I pushed her too hard, making her fall back on the mat of the ring. She landed hard on her back, but I knew if I didn't get her off of me, our boxing match wouldn't end the way I wanted it to.
Squatting down, I balanced myself and rested my forearms on my knees. My dick was still out, bouncing between my open legs. “Almost forgot how good you are at that.”
Her face morphed from confusion to satisfaction, feeling proud of herself with my compliment. As she sat up, I took my hand and pulled her by the neck. With me crouched down and Charleigh on her knees, we were face to face, allowing me access to her lips again.
We kissed a lot in New York, but everything was so sexually charged that I didn’t get to soak in how good it felt to really kiss her. Her mouth was heaven, and as much as I knew I needed to keep that night about sex and fighting, I couldn’t help but take a minute to memorize every swipe of her tongue and movement of her lips.
She pulled back before I was ready and used her mouth to start undoing her gloves, so I stopped her and held her wrists tight. “You have to keep these on.”
Once again, she looked confused. “Is that a kink of yours?”
I smiled at her suggestion and decided that it was probably a new kink for sure. “One of us has to keep the gloves on so this is an official fight.”
“I don’t want to fight.” She sounded needy and like she didn’t care how it made her sound as long as she got what she wanted.
“We have to, because we aren’t Brett and Apple, we are Charleigh and Levi, Coach and Ref, Al’s and Bobby’s. Sworn enemies that should be fighting instead of fucking.”
“Stop being dramatic, we can do both.”
I laughed and started to crawl over her, making her lean back until she was lying flat on the mat. I hovered and settled between her open legs, grinding myself onto her covered pussy. It was a tease to both of us, but I rubbed until her eyes started to roll back in her head.
When I stopped and pulled away, she looked at me like laser beams were cutting holes into my skin. I pulled her shorts and panties down quickly so that I didn’t lose her for too long. I wanted to keep her right on the edge.
Then I shed my t-shirt which was still wet from the sweat. She gave me an appreciative gleam that almost made me blush. She had seen me shirtless enough to be unaffected, but if she lusted after me the way I did her, then she would probably never be fully immune.
I let her have her fill as I took my fingers to her core. I needed to feel her, taste her, and test my memory. I pushed one finger inside of her and curled it instantly, just to see if that spot I found in New York was still hot. Based on how hard she moaned, I knew I had hit the jackpot.
“It’s been three months, four now actually. Who else has had this pussy since then?” That was a dangerous question, because if she chose violence and told me someone else had touched her, I would not be able to hide my rage. Not that I had any claim to her, but she certainly felt like mine. I also needed to know if she had been as miserable as I had been since that night.
She was staring back at me, not answering my question but smirking at the fact that I asked. She was looking right through me, and I knew no matter what she said, I wouldn't like the answer. I just wouldn't know if it was the truth or a lie.
“Three,” she whispered. “I go out once a month to hotels and find one-night stands. Someone that looks like they can show a girl a good time. They buy me a tequila, we laugh about his room or mine, and then fuck each other until one of us falls asleep.”
I had stopped moving my finger while she told me her little tale, a short recount of New York. She bucked against my hand trying to get me to start again, but too much ire had coursed through my blood to move. Just like I suspected, I couldn't tell if she was telling me the truth or a lie, but it had the desired effect.
I took a second finger and pushed back into her, hard enough to make her cry out in pain instead of pleasure. “Oh, my little Apple gets around, huh? A sure fire plan?” I was pumping my fingers in and out of her, making it hard for her to answer me. “So, I was Mr. May? Do you keep a calendar? Are there pictures for each month?”
Fuck I was losing my goddamn mind, but I didn’t know how to stop. Even knowing there was a chance she was just trying to rile me up, I was letting her. I had to turn it back around, so I brought her as close to an orgasm as I could and pulled my hands from her body abruptly.
“Ahhhh,” she used her gloves to pound the floor beneath her as she cried out her frustration. I stood above her and looked down, letting her think I was finished and leaving, but I wasn't that big of a masochist. I wasn't leaving until my cum was dripping from her pussy and she was officially calling me Mr. September, October, and November.
