Ice Cold (An MMA Stepbrother Romance)

I caught myself licking my lips, and I realized that I was thinking about the taste of her pussy. God, she had tasted sweet. When she shook her exposed channel at me like an experienced stripper, I had gone crazy. I started to think that I should request a stripper pole in all my locker rooms from now on.

Giving myself a mental shake, I tried to get her out of my head. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t banged a lifetime of girls in the last two years. But there had been something about Alexa that had gotten my attention. She ran hot and cold, and I couldn’t figure her out. At the bar, she had been aloof and distant, almost as if she considered me beneath her. Then she came into my locker room and turned into a sultry vixen. She had some skills that took my breath away, and I was just sorry that I hadn’t had her suck my cock. Regardless, I had some fantastic memories to jerk off to for the near future. Her departure had been a bit abrupt, but then I realized she was doing me a favor. She didn’t try to cling or act like it was anything more than what it was. I could appreciate that.

Kyle finally showed up just as I moved into my cardio. I decided to bang around the bag for a bit hoping that I’d finally be able to shove every distracting thought of the lovely Alexa out of my brain. She hadn’t wanted to give me her number, and I had no way to get in touch with her again. That thought soured my attitude considerably as the afternoon went on. He held the bag as I started to pummel it.

“You are in a mood,” he remarked when I was about halfway through my time. “I heard from Marcus that you got laid after the fight. That blonde from the bar? Nice.”

It bothered me that anyone was talking about my romantic encounters at all. “Don’t you little hens have something better to gossip about than who I’m banging?”

“Nah,” he smirked. “I mean, we had a bet going on whether you’d be able to hit that or not because of the cold shoulder she gave you the night before.”

I rolled my eyes. I swear that the guys on my road crew couldn’t be more immature sometimes. “I blew off a little steam, just like I always do. It’s not a big deal.”

“So why are you so agitated?”

“I had a voicemail from my dad,” I lied. I had gotten the voicemail earlier in the week. He wanted me to call him back, and I had been avoiding him. I didn’t want Kyle to know that my mood was because one of my random hook-ups was still in my head. I was a one-night stand kind of guy. That was the only kind of relationship that worked in my profession anyways. I had heard the horror stories about girlfriends and wives who couldn’t handle their men being out on the road all the time, especially with the abundance of pussy thrown your way on a regular basis. MMA fighting didn’t exactly encourage fidelity.

“What did the old man want?” Kyle asked. He tapped the bag, and we switched so that I held the bag for him. I was starting to sweat. That was good. My mind always cleared when I got in the zone physically.

“Usual,” I scoffed. “You’d think that having an entertainment lawyer in my family would be a good thing for me. He’s been riding my ass ever since I started hitting the big time to be smarter about my money. He wants me to invest it in the stock market and shit. I don’t have time for that.”

“You can’t take it with you, man,” Kyle agreed. “You gotta live while you’re young otherwise you’ll regret it.”

“I don’t need anyone babysitting my money either,” I said. “He wants me to get a bookkeeper.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s just what I need. Some old smelly dude following me all over the country telling me how I can and can’t spend my money.”

“Lame,” Kyle agreed. “Next time you have a fight, though, I get the VIP tickets. No more hoes getting priority,” Kyle joked.

We switched again and as I moved back into position, Alexa’s facial expression as she rode her orgasm sprung up in my mind again. I started to beat the bag hard. It was a one-night stand in a string of one-night stands that would continue for the foreseeable future. There wasn’t anything special about her. She was just another piece of ass.

I repeated the words to myself just like I repeated similar sentiments that I used for my training. It was the way I dealt with stuff, and eventually, it would become the truth. Emptying my mind of everything except my swing and my form, I forced myself to forget about her. It was better that way anyway.





CHAPTER EIGHT - ALEXA





As the taxi pulled up to my mother’s house just outside of New Haven, I looked up at the impressive house that could probably be classified as a mansion. My mother collected husbands the way that she collected jewelry, and she traded up every time she did. I barely remembered the tidy little white house with the picket fence where I had lived before my father passed away.