AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Yes, it was illegal and a pain in the ass, but the validation of its presence was greater than anything.
This was the mark that gave me some sort of purpose. It gave me hope that I'd find where I belonged, no matter if I were truly a human or a fucked-up mistake. I had purpose in my life, and even if this fucked-up world didn't want to acknowledge it, this tattoo would be the mark of my existence.
Walking out of the shower, I tousled my hair with the white towel, drying it as much as possible before patting my body down. Throwing the towel in the hamper, I walked naked through the showers to the sauna to further calm myself.
Ten minutes later, I was dry and completely calm as I walked out of the black wooden masterpiece of coal and serene music. I paused as I closed the door, noticing the change in music from my pop jam to ballad music.
My eyes rolled before I muttered, "Each time you sneak in here, you have to change my music like this is your locker room."
That low, sexy chuckle answered my suspicions. My body grew hot, and it wasn't due to the change of temperature in the room.
Deciding to see the man in question, I moved to the two rows of lockers to see my naked rival. His massive, tall figure stood at 6'3" with those overly bulked-up biceps, chest pecs, and eight pack.
Seriously, how does he even keep those tiny baby abs at the top? Mine won't even come out after a twenty-four hour fast.
His caramel-and-chocolate flesh was tanner tonight, making those thick, bold black tattoos that ran all around his arms and chest more noticeable. My Puerto Rican rival, with his silly short strands that were still wet like the rest of him and that incredibly hard cock that he was always so proud of.
I'll give credit when it’s due and his cock deserves all the praise.
"Onyx Charm." I loved to use his full name on these occasions.
He always assumed I did it to piss him off but we both knew better. His name always flowed out like a smooth breeze gracing one's skin, especially when I was this relaxed. It was one of the many reasons he showed up thirty minutes after a fight.
His stalker-like behavior was telling me I'd have to switch up my routine, but I secretly enjoyed these frisky moments with him -even if we were enemies.
"Sweet Sugar like nectar," he practically sang, still relaxing against the lockers while his eyes hungrily soaked my naked body up. "How am I going to piss you off without a change in music?"
I strutted over to the single pink locker among the gothic pitch-black ones, the oddball of them all being the chosen space for my stuff. I had a little obsession with imperfections. No wonder I always crushed on sick douche bags and/or crazy jerks who were better off single if you wanted to live long enough to see their brutal ends.
"Seriously, Onyx." I got right to the point. "Why are you here?"
"I can't come see you after your incredible performance tonight?" He always made it seem like the ring was a stage where we performed as we danced and kept the crowd captivated. All our fights involved bone-crunching, sweat-dripping, animalistic torture that got some filthy rich while others sank further into their holes of debt.
"No. That's unlike you," I replied and took out a clean sports bra and matching cheeky underwear. I could feel his eyes on me, their heavy gaze taking my back in, especially my plump ass.
"Walking home alone?"
"Indeed." I figured he'd notice, which was another reminder that he'd come in here far too many times to know lingerie means I'm getting driven by Viktor while sports gear means I'm walking home.
Never let your guard down in the heart of darkness. She'll dance around you, sneak before you, and stab you with a knife in pure satisfaction.
The lockers creaked in relief from what I could safely assume was him moving his weight off their surface. I stalled in my effort to grab my brush, taking the black-coated hilt of my little blade from the shelf, but I froze when his body pressed firmly against mine, his cock right at my ass while the heat of his scorching, wet body had me shivering and my eyes fluttering.
God. When was the last time we fucked? We’ve gotta stop doing that. We're enemies, duh!
"Are you going to use that blade to cut my dick, Sugar?"
"Sadly, no," I concluded as I let the blade go. A weapon like a blade would be like throwing a baby rattle at him. A few slashes of a blade would be a waste of time, especially when one hit from him would knock me out for hours, giving him plenty of time to do whatever he wanted with me.
Which he actually wouldn't do unless I asked for it - and I really mean begged to be abused during foreplay.
"Why?" He sounded way too amused, which ticked me off. I spun around to face him before inching closer so he knew our height difference didn't bother me.
"If I sliced you with a blade, you'd laugh and ask me to continue by carving a heart and writing our initials in it."
"So you agree that W plus O within a heart would be an amazing scar to have?" he concluded, bringing up our last argument from a week ago when he was right here, in my personal space, as fucking usual.
"You wouldn't even have the scar for long," I grunted as if the idea were a hindrance. "Give it a week and it would be covered with yet another tattoo."
