Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Ihaven’t seen Zia in a few days, but this time he answers my calls and texts, plus I’ve been busy with training before my next match.
It was arranged last minute, but it isn’t an opponent I’m overly worried about.
He has an even loss to win ratio, and he’s pretty low ranked, but he’s challenging me to move up.
You never know how a match will go, no matter how prepared you are, so I stay focused and treat every single fight like it’s for the title.
Sitting in the dressing room later that night, waiting to be announced, I close my eyes and breathe deeply, squashing down my anxiety and nerves. They have no place here. I must be confident and strong. I must win.
My hands are taped, my shorts are on, and my robe is tied. I’m ready.
I send one last text to Zia to see if he will be coming, but he doesn’t reply, and then the door opens, admitting my dad and Charlie. “It’s time.”
Nodding, I put my phone in the locker and head their way. When I reach them, I stop and tug the hood on my robe into place. “I’m ready.”
“Let’s do this, one more win under the belt.
” My dad claps my shoulder, and then I follow him and Charlie down the corridor to the gym, where this match is being held.
It’s an hour outside of Pine Valley, but that’s fine with me.
I can hear the crowd despite its location.
There are a few local TV stations in attendance, as well as fans who are live streaming, so I can’t afford to slip up.
The tunnel is dark as I wait. Bouncing on my toes, I roll my head and keep my muscles warm as the commentator talks, confirming my opponent, and then it’s my turn.
“And in the other corner, needing no introduction, is the one, the only, Nikko—the undefeated.” The crowd roars, and I walk out in front of my dad and Charlie, my hood up as I make my way down the tunnel, through the crowd, and to the ring.
Usually, I’m laser focused, but I find myself scanning the stands for a familiar gray head.
When I don’t find it, I turn forward in disappointment.
The ropes are held for me, so I slide through them, nodding at my competitor, James, as I give the crowd a few fake punches and then wave.
They cheer louder, and I head to my corner.
My dad helps me take off my robe, and Charlie straps my gloves on then shoves my mouth guard in. I can hear the other boxers from Nexus shouting and cheering me on, and I let it fuel me. My eyes are on my opponent as his team does the same.
When it’s time to start, we meet in the middle, smacking our gloves together out of respect as the ref talks, and then the bell rings, signaling us to begin.
We dance around each other at first, faking a few punches to see how the other boxer reacts.
I ignore the crowd, and my vision narrows to my opponent.
I manage a quick right hook he can’t avoid, and he stumbles back, but when I bring my gloves up again, his guard is up.
I hit it a few times before stepping back.
He lowers it and throws punches in return.
I avoid them and let him hit my guard as he pushes me backward.
The bell finally rings, and neither of us are down, but we have felt each other out. I hit stronger, while he hits faster.
The bell rings, signaling the end of round one, and I head to my corner, spitting out my guard.
I take a drink as my dad and Charlie wipe my face and check my gloves.
“He’s fast,” my dad says, “but you’re better, and he knows it.
He’s going for dirty moves, expecting you to slip up.
Don’t take him out too easily. They want a good show, and it might come across as being too cocky. ”
“Got it,” I reply as they shove my mouth guard back in, and I get up as the bell rings for round two.
We hit gloves again, and this time, I don’t play with him.
I smash my fist into his face in a rapid, two-jab movement.
His head snaps back, and he falls to the mat.
I follow him down before being pulled off, and then I wait, but James gets up.
Shaking off his stupor, he comes at me, anger contorting his face.
His moves are slightly uncoordinated but still controlled.
He lands one hit, but I use it to slam another hook into him that has him hitting the ropes.
I wait, remembering my father’s words, glancing at the crowd for a moment, which I never do.
I see gray hair and a smiling face.
My boy is here.
I can’t help but stare before there’s a shout, and I turn back to see James coming at me, furious and sweaty.
Seeing Zia gives me a new surge of determination, and I turn to my opponent, blocking his jabs with my arms until I see my shot. I should drag this out and make it a good show, but my boy is here.
I want to show off a little, so despite it only being the second round, I take my shot—a mean uppercut that sends him flying back. He hits the mat, and the ref starts counting. He’s groaning, and I know he’s done before the bell even rings and my arm is thrust into the air.
The crowd shouts and cameras flash as I grin and let the ref turn me to the audience. All the while, I’m searching for my boy, but I can’t see him anywhere. Disappointment floods me as I’m awarded the win. Afterwards, my dad smacks my side.
“What happened to the plan?” he mutters.
“I got bored,” I grumble. “I’m off to shower.” I wave as I stride down the tunnel.
Heading into my private locker room, I kick the door shut in annoyance.
Was I imagining things? I was so sure it was Zia, but I had to be wrong.
Throwing my robe to the side with my gloves and guard, I open my locker to pull out my clothes when there’s a click.
My eyebrows draw together, and I’m about to turn when arms slide around my waist.
“Congratulations.” The slow, flirty drawl makes me freeze.
“Zia?” I murmur. When I turn, I see him grinning at me. “I knew it was you.” I grab his face and kiss him. “You came!”
“You asked,” he replies. “You did well, and you looked so sexy in that ring. Those shorts . . . I really like them,” he murmurs as my hands squish his cheeks before he pulls away. Zia drops to his knees, and my eyes widen. “Do you want your reward for winning?”
“I’m sweaty.”
His eyes roll up to mine as he licks a line across my abs. “I like it when you’re sweaty,” he whispers as he tugs my shorts down, and all protests flee my mind. My hard cock springs into his waiting grasp.
“Zia—” I groan as his lips eagerly wrap around the tip of my dick and suck. My back hits the locker, slamming it shut, as I reach for him. I anchor my hand in his hair, clinging to him as my thighs shake. Despite all my training and how long I can fight for, one touch from him makes me weak.
Chuckling, he pulls back and sweeps his talented tongue up and down my length like I’m his favorite candy. I fist his hair, silently begging for more as he tortures me in the best way.
“Please, baby,” I growl, and he looks up at me through his fucking lashes and wraps his mouth around my length again, then he swallows me all the way down to the back of his throat.
I can’t hold back. Gripping him tighter, I drag his mouth off and thrust back down his throat. He bobs his head, setting a fast, sloppy rhythm. His perfect, hot mouth remains closed tightly around me until my balls draw up with the need to come.
“Yo, Nikko, are you nearly done?” Charlie yells through the door. “We are going out to celebrate. It’s your dad’s treat.”
Zia pops his mouth from my cock for a moment as I shiver and heave above him. “Better answer him because even if he comes in here, I won’t stop.” He wraps his lips around my length and sucks me all the way down, making my eyes roll into the back of my head as a groan escapes.
“Nikko, you okay?” Charlie calls, and I know he’ll enter in a moment.
Nobody gets to see my boy like this.
“Fine!” I yell, my voice tight. “I’ll be out soon.”
“Oh, okay.” I hear his footsteps retreat, and then I slump as Zia chuckles around my cock.
“Baby, I can’t hold back,” I warn, and he slides his mouth off my cock to grin at me.
“Then don’t.” He gets back to work, and I give in, slamming into his hot mouth.
The locker behind me rattles as I use him.
His hand comes up, wrapping around the base of me and squeezing as he sucks me down, and with a yell, my release roars through me.
He swallows it before pulling back, letting it drip over his hand and mouth as I shake and ride out the pleasure.
When I can’t possibly come any more, I collapse back, and he releases me, sitting on his heels with a knowing, swollen smile.
Licking his raw lips, he sucks his fingers clean as I pant. “You’ve had your reward, now go shower so we can celebrate with your family.”
I perk up. “You’re coming?”
“You think I came all this way just for your cum? I’m starving.” He winks as he smacks my hip and climbs to his feet. “Go, before your dad comes in here and tells me off.”
Grinning, I kiss him swiftly. “Want to help me shower?” I wiggle my eyebrows, even as he laughs and hits me again. “Had to try.”
“Go!” He shoves me away, but he’s smiling.
He actually came.
That means something, right?
I worry for Zia. I can’t imagine this is his scene.
I scan him hesitantly, but I should have known better.
His smile is wider than I’ve ever seen it, flashing dimples that I have an insane urge to lick.
He looks relaxed and totally calm, his arm stretched across the back of my rickety chair.
Even in his designer clothes and diamonds, he seems to fit right in at Mama’s Kitchen.
It’s tradition. My dad came here after his first win, and now we all do.
The outside area bustles with people and music, the tables old and mismatched.
The air is slightly cool, and the food is incredible, but it’s in the rougher side of town.
It’s not exactly fine dining, and the guests tonight are all boxers and coaches, talking rambunctiously and stuffing beer and burgers down as quickly as they can.
I lower my voice and lean closer to Zia. “We can go if you want. You probably have business to deal with, or we can go somewhere without as many people.”
“Go? Why would we go?” he asks with a frown. “I haven’t even finished my food yet.”
I wince. “I can buy you some better food—”
“Better than this? I don’t think so,” he dismisses.
“Go? He isn’t going anywhere, and neither are you. We just got here,” my father snaps in annoyance from the head of the table. “We are here to celebrate your win, boy, so don’t run off just yet. Besides, Zia doesn’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all. I’m used to brutes with guns, so this is actually quite nice. Nikko, listen to your dad.” Zia chuckles, his eyes sparkling as he winks at me.
“He never does,” my father complains as he leans into Zia. “One time when he was a kid, I told him he had to wear pants to school, but he refused and took them off every day.”
Zia’s laughter fills the air, and I know I’m not the only one staring at him—that’s just how bright he shines. He’s oblivious as he replies to my father. “Tell me all his dirty, sordid secrets.”
“Don’t you dare.” I sip my beer to wet my dry throat, my free hand dropping to his thigh without thought. I see a guy at another table eyeing Zia like he’s his next course, not that he seems to notice or care, but my fingers still curl into his leg possessively.
My eyes narrow on the guy, who gives me a passing look before he returns to leering at Zia, his expression hungry as he watches him chat with my father and friends, and my annoyance grows.
“He won’t stop fucking staring,” I mutter in annoyance, my grip tightening on my beer.
Everyone looks at me then follows my gaze to the man and his table, who are also now all staring.
“Stay calm,” Karl, one of our team mutters. “No fighting outside the ring, remember?”
I nod, but my anger won’t be placated. When a hand lands on my arm, my gaze goes to Zia. Seeing him so close causes my breath to woosh from my chest, and my anger swiftly morphs into desire as his scent wraps around me.
“They won’t stop staring at you,” I explain, jealousy lacing my tone as his eyebrow arches, demanding the truth.
“Of course they are. I’m beautiful,” he replies before he grabs my collar and pulls me closer, spilling beer all over my hand, but I can’t look away. Even my breath stops as he smirks at me in front of the entire table. “Got a problem with that?”
“No,” I answer roughly. Nothing else matters as long as he keeps looking at me. “I can fight, so they don’t stand a chance.”
“That’s my boy.” He places a kiss on my lips before letting me go and turning to my dad like nothing happened. “So the pants thing, does he still do that?”
Rolling my lips in, I try to bite back my smile, but I catch Charlie’s grinning face, and he shoots me two thumbs-up, which makes me blush, even as the table explodes in hoots and cheers at Zia’s claim.
Does he know what he just did?
He told them all we are fucking and that I’m his, but when I see his amused expression, I know he did it on purpose.
That’s one of the most beautiful things about him. He’s so unashamedly . . . Zia.