Hey guys, thanks for making “Luke’s Brutal Abduction” a top 100 seller in Amazon’s erotica list! I’m working on a new story I think you’ll like, especially if like me you fucking love those MMA dudes. Here’s a sneak peak at “Eddie’s MMA Submission,” coming soon, with your first look at the hot cover 🙂
This part of town hadn’t been Eddie’s choice for an office space. The realtor said it was “up-and-coming,” and his boss had bought the line, but “down and out” was more like it, Eddie thought. The street was lined with dingy old buildings that held the kind of bars whose names might as well start with “A stabbing occurred last night at.”
Then there were the strip clubs, er, gentlemen’s clubs, the weekly motels, the head shops, the liquor stores. But all this meant one thing that was most important right now – the rent was damn cheap. And since their office was above the check-cashing joint, there were lots of security cameras to make sure anybody who broke in and stole their monitors would probably get caught (though they took their laptops home every night, just in case).
It wasn’t all bad, though, he thought, making his daily pilgrimage to the liquor store for a Coke – more to get away from his desk than anything else. His eyes were sore from staring at his screen, the 3D modeling his company did requiring intense focus. They were putting a coffee shop in up the ways a bit, the thrift store was being taken over and funkified by a friend of his, and gentrification was on the way. And he had to admit, there was an element to the sleaze that excited him.
Yeah, a lot of it was depressing, but there was still an electricity in the air when he got out of work late at night, and all the sunset people had come out with their eye on the main chance, another shot at making a score. The raucous college kids parked outside the dive bar, smoking and laughing; the lean young business sharks, eyes glittering with lust and uppers, heading into the titty bar with pockets full of singles; the dudes in oversize clothes wandering the streets, waiting for someone driving by to make eye contact, “adjusting” their crotches with the promise of drugs or sex.
He’d admitted that much to a guy he’d been dating, who looked at him like there was something wrong with him. “I think it’s really sad,” he said smugly, his lip curled with newfound disdain for Eddie.
“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, already over this guy and the boring sex Eddie knew he’d be, “it is sad, for the people who have no choice, but there’s still a sexual electricity in the air that’s a real turn-on.” And if you can’t feel a dark dirty thrill from all the testosterone in the air down here, Eddie thought, you giant vanilla bean, I don’t care what you think.
He thought of that now, in the liquor store. There were two guys ahead of him at the counter, one of them counting out change for a 40 ounce while the clerk looked on, simultaneously bored and eagle-eyed, on the lookout for buttons or rocks. The guy behind him made eye contact with Eddie, and it was like an electric shock.
The dude was intense. Dark hair buzzed on top and nearly shaved on the sides in a jarhead cut, a day’s worth of stubble highlighting the razor line of his jaw, dark eyes with an athlete’s clear white sclera. He wore a loose white t-shirt with the name of the gym across from Eddie’s office emblazoned on it – DOWNTOWN FIGHT ACADEMY – DFA, BITCHES.
But the loose shirt was thin with wear and washing, and couldn’t conceal the hard knots of muscle at his shoulders and trapezius, and his arms were as detailed by the lean incisions in his fatless skin as they were by the tats that nearly covered them. He had the cauliflower ears and the smashed down nose of a fighter, all right – he was the real thing. And he gave Eddie a crooked smile that made his heart skip.
“You wanna go ahead of me?” the guy asked him, holding up his protein bars and energy drinks. “I’m in no hurry and this guy might take a while.”
“No, man, I’m good, thanks,” Eddie said, more because if he went ahead of the guy he wouldn’t be able to keep staring at him. He could feel his cock swelling, the heat off this dude strong enough to feel. He must have the metabolism of an ox. “Appreciate it, though,” he said, more to keep talking, to keep looking in those hot dark eyes.
“No worries. Hey, you work in the building across from us, don’t you?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah,” thrilled that he’d been noticed, that the dude knew who he was.
He offered his hand. “I’m Jake.”
Eddie shook his hand, marveling at how much muscle a man could have in his hand alone. He knew the guy was going easy on him, but his own grip was firm, a couple calluses on his palm anyway, even if only from free weights at the gym.
“Hey, you guys should come over and check it out.” He pulled a couple of glossy cards out of his back pocket and gave Eddie a lopsided grin. “I’ll give you a personal tour.”
Did he wink at me? Eddie asked himself. Yeah, he did. He took the cards. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”
“Next!” the clerk said impatiently, and Eddie suddenly noticed that the change-counter was gone and there was a line forming behind him.
Jake bought his stuff and turned and smiled again at Eddie. “See you soon.”
It was hard to concentrate on his work after that, especially since he had a desk by the window. Some of the other employees complained that Eddie’s shade was always up and the window was always open, but that was because they were a bunch of fucking mushrooms, Eddie thought scornfully, who’d spend their whole lives with no light source but a monitor if they could. The whole point of being in an old building was a window that opened, dammit.
And now he knew that not only could he see, but he could be seen, by the tough guys across the street. He’d always had half an eye over there, checking out the hot studs as they came and went, a little stimulating heat before going back to the cold world of the computer. Now every guy who came and went in the corner of his eye made him look, to see if it was Jake.
But mostly it was wannabes, the meat and potatoes of most fight gyms, the guys who were living out a fantasy, some of them the same finance sharks who’d be at the titty bar later, wearing their tight AFFLICTION shirts like they were actual fighters. They were the ones who kept these places afloat, not the real fighters like Jake, who never had any money.
He got jack shit done that afternoon, and had to stay up late at home that night to catch up. He’d taped The Ultimate Fighter and found himself as always marveling at the athlete’s chiseled bodies, their tats, their faces. So many of them were beautiful¸really, it was shocking how their faces could be so exquisite after all the poundings they took, and their pulverized noses and swollen ears only seemed to accentuate the perfection of their other features…like Jake, he thought.
He was a pretty serious fight fan, and really did watch for the action, cheering like crazy when someone went ballistic and starting landing serious punches and kicks. The hotness of the guys was the “gay bonus” he got from athletics on top of his enjoyment of the sports.
But tonight, he couldn’t stop focusing not on the holds or the moves, but only on their tight shorts and their perfect asses, their powerful legs, the ripples in their arms and backs as they clenched, pinning down their opponents, their faces red with exertion, shiny with sweat and blood.
Eddie had a vision of himself on that mat, struggling, Jake’s legs triangled around him, his iron grip around his throat, his cock pressed hard into Eddie’s ass… Eddie pulled his dick out of his pants and started stroking as the men onscreen went to the ground, grappling, sweating, bloody, twisted, turning, pounding. The dude on top was slamming his opponent down again and again and Eddie thought of Jake, dominating him, taking him, and he gasped as he blew his load all over himself.