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39
Bobby
Aftermath
Ilay in our large bed and sigh. I’m so fucking sore. It’s all fun and games until the next day, when your body’s no longer warm and the adrenaline has washed itself away.
I spent an hour with the medics last night. They stitched my face up and realigned my nose while Kit held my hand and my brothers admired my new belt. I don’t care how big I am, how badass I am, how many belts I’ve won; when a dude stands in front of a guy and snaps his nose back into place, that guy’s gonna cry a little bit.
The medic seemed to enjoy poking my face and stitching me up. Blood dripped into my eye, and yet, he just smiled like it was beet juice and kept poking while Kit teased, Jack gawked, and Jon re-narrated the whole fight.
After the sadistic motherfucker – also known as the medic – finished hacking away at my face, I looked up at Kit hopefully, only for her to grimace.
“That bad, huh?”
“You look so sore, baby.” She took my hand gently and flipped it over. “Here, for you.” Taking a chain from between her breasts, she unclasped it and took my wedding band off. Placing it in the center of my palm, she gently closed my fingers and pressed her lips to my fist.
“Thanks for holding it for me.”
“You’re welcome.” Sitting down close, she turned on the bench and unknowingly tweaked my sore ribs.
How many times earlier this year did I accidentally hurt her and she not let on? “How are you feeling, babe?”
“Pretty good.” I smiled arrogantly. “Pretty fucking amazing, to be honest. Can we go home and fuck now?”
She snorts. Thankfully, everyone else in the room is too busy to listen. “Ha, I bet you’re too sore for anything by tomorrow.”
“I’d really like to try.”
Smiling indulgently, she patted my thigh and leaned in close. “Alright, champ. Tomorrow. If you’re feeling up to it, we’ll talk.”
As soon as we could escape the arena and fell into our cars, I took my wife and family out. I had the VIP room at Club 188 cleared, Tink called ahead and made arrangements; the room was filled with milk, ice cream, and chocolate toppings, and just like I promised Kit, I took her out for milkshakes.
In the past, the guys and I might have celebrated with girls and booze and hangovers, and probably a shit ton of money wasted on shit we didn’t need.
But not anymore.
Now I just celebrate with one girl,mygirl.
Eventually my mom took Jack back to her place, like she knew Kit and I would like some alone time, and Jon took Iz and Tink home. Aiden and Jim left last, then I took Kit home.
I’d like to say I stayed up all night ravishing my wife and reminiscing about my win, but the truth is, Kit drove us home and had to wake me when she parked out the front of our house.
She tried to struggle with my weight, but a man’s instincts don’t go away no matter how tired he is. I woke when she grunted under my weight, and dragged my half-unconscious ass out and up the stairs.
That was it. Sleep took me under as soon as I hit the pillows.
I went to bed in my gym shorts.
But I’ve woken naked.
I glance down the bed and smirk at my dick. I’m busted and broken and so unbelievably sore, but my dick is unharmed and ready for its mate.
Unfortunately for me, her side of the bed is empty… Except for my shiny new belt.
Groaning and working to lift myself up to go find her, my ribs ache and my abs protest. With her promise of ‘tomorrow’ on my mind, I work through the pain and popping joints. I turn my legs and place them over the side of the bed.
Purple bruises paint the majority of my shins and forearms. My head pounds with a deep pain, and my lip stings each time I move it.
