Rolling With the Punches Read online

  Most of the doors were shut, however, and the handles didn't turn when I tried the knobs. Further down the line, however, I could see that there was a light glowing from beneath one door, shining in the relative dimness of the hallway. That one had to be open, didn't it? No one would lock a door and leave the light on inside.

  I moved further down the hallway, my ears alert for any noise. Sure, perhaps those drinks I'd enjoyed from the waiters previously had made my own footsteps a little heavier than usual, but I still had control of my ears! But as I drew closer to the door, I still didn't hear any noises coming from inside the possible dressing room.

  My hand rested on the doorknob. I waited for one last breath, listening, but still didn't hear any sound. The room was probably empty. Maybe it was left open for one of the fighters or something to come and change out of his boxing trunks afterward, I reasoned. But the man was probably out in the ring or something, warming up. Or maybe out in the alley punching a bag. I wasn't quite sure how boxers got ready for a fight. But surely he wouldn't just be sitting around inside his dressing room.

  After another minute of convincing, I was certain that the room was empty. I reached forward and grabbed the handle once again, leaning into the door as I twisted. Sure enough, this door was unlocked, and the door pivoted smoothly in.

  I stepped in after the door, letting my weight carry me forward. See? Easy as pie, no trouble at all.

  It wasn't until I had closed the door behind me and turned to look around that I realized that I had, in fact, been wrong. It turns out that the room was occupied after all.

  A very large and muscular man was sitting, cross-legged, in the middle of the floor. He was wearing a pair of shiny, flowing shorts, but nothing else; his chest was bare and rippled with glistening muscle. His chest rose and fell slowly as he pulled in deep breaths, showing off every single individual muscle beneath the surface of his bronze, shining skin.

  And his eyes were staring right at me.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  It took me a minute before I managed to find my voice, as the man whose dressing room this surely was continued to stare at me. "Oh my god," I stammered, finally once again finding the gift of speech. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize that anyone was in here!"

  The man didn't look away. In fact, I wasn't even sure that he was blinking. Was he actually seeing me? Or was this some sort of trance thing to help him fight, where he had his eyes open, but actually was doing some sort of yoga mind control thing inside his head? Unsure, I reached out and waved my fingers in front of his face.

  I probably shouldn't have done that.

  In a single, swift, lightning-fast motion, the man's hand shot up to grab mine, his huge, massive fingers closing around my entire hand. He didn't crush them, but simply held firm. Despite this, though, I had exactly zero chance of wiggling out of that grip. It was like being held by a stone statue.

  As if that grabbing of my hand had been some sort of ignition signal, the rest of the man's body unfolded, and he rose to his feet in front of me. And when I say rose, I really mean it. He just kept on going up and up; by the time he was fully standing, he towered over me. Sure, I'm not a tall girl, but he had to be somewhere well over six feet, probably closer to seven.

  Even creepier, however, was how he kept his eyes on me the whole time. Even as he stood, he didn't look away for an instant. And he never lessened his grip on my hand.

  Um. This definitely wasn't what I had in mind when I had ducked in here. This night seemed to be getting worse. "Listen," I stammered, staring up at the boxer. "How about you just let me go, I'll duck out of here, and we'll pretend like none of this ever happened?"

  At these words, the man blinked, and suddenly his face relaxed. Instead of that blank, terrifying expression, his features dropped down into something much more relaxed. He glanced down at where he was holding my hand, as if seeing it for the first time, and immediately released his grip on my wrist. I didn't immediately yank my hand back, per se, but I was pretty eager to not be a captive any more.

  "I'm sorry." The man's voice was deep and surprisingly rich, almost like poured liquid dark chocolate. "I didn't mean to scare you at all - I just get very focused before a fight, and I really wasn't expecting visitors."

  The man's eyes lifted up to meet mine, and I was surprised to see that, in those twin pools of deep, dark brown, there was an unexpected depth. My anger at being grabbed, at having this intimidating giant stand up in front of me, immediately vanished.

  "Oh, that's okay," I replied. "I was just looking for a place to-" I cut off abruptly mid-sentence, deciding that telling this man about my underwear woes was probably not the best move for an introduction. I quickly shifted to a different tack.

  "So," I said instead, looking up at him, "you must be one of the fighters for the big match tonight, huh?"

  The man nodded. "That's right," he replied. His eyes were still on me, and I felt as though I was being measured, inspected. He paused. "You don't recognize me?"

  I shrugged, feeling strangely as though I was being judged for my ignorance. "I'm a guest, yeah, but I'm just a guest of a friend," I explained quickly. "And I don't think even she knows who you are. She just likes to go wherever there's a lot of fancy and wealthy people, and she dragged me along to get me out of my funk."

  My mouth snapped shut; I definitely hadn't been meaning to bring that up at all tonight, especially not to this stranger. I really hoped that the boxer hadn't caught that. But he must not have taken as many blows to the head as I imagined, as he immediately focused on those words.

  "A funk?" he repeated, and I winced. "Why are you in a funk?"

  The man was scooting slowly closer to me, still looking down at me with those big, deep eyes. I opened my mouth, but it took a second before I was able to conjure up any words. Oh, what big muscles he had! a little part of my brain noted.

  "I, uh, I recently split up with my boyfriend," I said, opting for honesty over an attempt to lie. "Just a couple of days ago. My friend decided that dragging me out here was better than letting me stay home and eat ice cream."

  Oh god. I was giving away all my secrets to this stranger, just spilling them out! Why did I keep on talking?

  The man nodded, still moving in even closer. "Well, let me introduce myself," he said in those deep, husky tones, reaching down for my hand again. This time, however, his grip was firm but not binding. "Name's Rhodes. Cecil, but everyone just calls me Rhodes. Undefeated heavyweight," he added, sounding as if he hoped I knew what these words meant.

  Unfortunately, the term meant nothing to me. "Nice to meet you, Rhodes," I said instead, shaking the huge paw wrapped around mine. The man's skin was surprisingly warm to the touch, as if a fire was burning beneath his bronzed chest. "I'm Caroline."

  Rhodes held on to my hand for a moment longer than was necessary, still gazing down at me. "Caroline," he repeated, as if he was rolling the name around in his mouth to admire the taste.

  I felt my cheeks begin to glow as blood flowed to them, rising up in a blush that I knew I couldn't suppress. Despite his craggy features, the man was damn attractive. And he was definitely checking me out in my dress. I was uncomfortably aware of every inch of my underwear beneath the dress, clinging to me as I broke out in a sweat.

  Trying to distract myself from my undergarments, I stared up into the man's eyes, looking back at his face above me. That was a mistake.

  Instantly, those eyes swallowed me up, pulling me in. I felt myself leaning in closer, until the hem of my dress brushed against the man, and I could feel the heat from his chest radiating out into my own. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling my chest swell just enough to brush against his. It was like a mild electrical current was pulsing through all those muscles of his and into me.

  The man's face was in front of mine, above me, staring down with those dark eyes. The sane, rational part of my mind, the part that was usually in control, had been relegated back to a dark and dusty corner. It was screaming
at me to leave, turn away, even break eye contact. I was ignoring all of its advice.

  I leaned in closer, my eyes fluttering shut. And then I finally felt the press of his lips on my own.

  The kiss was surprisingly soft and gentle - at first. It was as if the man was ensuring that I was actually there, waiting to be certain before making his move. He was soft, floating as gently as a butterfly-

  -and then he lunged in to sting like a bee.

  Rhodes' arms swept down around me, pulling me in tightly to press up against every inch of his chiseled, muscular body. One hand slipped down to curve around my ass to hoist me up, and I would have let out a squeak if my lips hadn't been otherwise engaged! I found my chest pressed against his impressive pecs, his rock-hard flat abs on my waist...

  ...and something very large and distinctively shaped was inside his trunks, nosing its way into the folds of my dress!

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Oh, I knew what that was from my last boyfriend! I nearly jumped all the way out of my dress as I felt the man's hardness through his shorts, pressing against me. But he was holding me tight, and his lips were on mine, and oh god, there was a bit of tongue, slipping out to caress my own, and I didn't care any more. The man could be naked, for all that I cared. In fact, judging by the parts of him I could see, I definitely would consider that to be an improvement.

  And oh, that kiss! My last boyfriend had been a good kisser, sure, but there was something exhilarating about kissing someone new, a stranger whose lips I had never felt previously. And Rhodes was definitely... different. He was more aggressive, I decided, more intent on getting his own pleasure out of the kiss. Not that I minded this. Not in the slightest.

  Finally, after what felt like an hour, the man broke apart. He was smiling down at me, and I realized that there was a grin, a stupid, sappy grin, also plastered across my face. Yes, the rest of my body certainly seemed to be enjoying itself. I could even feel certain parts of my chest beginning to stand out a little, perhaps in hopes that they would be the next to be visited by this big, muscular boxer.

  "So," Rhodes asked after drawing in a deep breath, "is this helping you to forget about your ex-boyfriend?"

  I grinned back up at him. "It's a good start," I teased him. "Is there anything else that you've got in mind to follow up?"

  At these words, the man's grin widened even further, and he pulled me back in for another kiss. This one, unlike the first, was immediately open as our tongues dove in to explore each other's mouths, sliding around and caressing each other. He tasted like sweat, slightly salty but with that indescribable little hint of pure manliness, some combination of barely detectable flavors that just couldn't be found anywhere else. And that taste was sending all sorts of other dirty thoughts coursing through my mind.

  I clearly wasn't the only one to be thinking thoughts like these. With my body pressed up against the man, I could feel every inch of his body - including the parts below his waist, now fully awake and definitely also interested in exploring me further. The whole man was a tight and throbbing muscle, and I imagined that he was just aching to tear my clothes off and pin me down on the couch in the corner of his dressing room.

  Would I have minded if he made such a move? I wondered to myself. It definitely wasn't anything like how I normally was. I didn't normally even kiss strange, muscular strangers in dressing rooms, for example, much less consider letting them take advantage of me and use me right then and there, without knowing much about them besides their name. But at the moment, all of my logic and common sense had deserted me. This was hot, this was urgent, and this was now. I didn't even want to think about later.

  Clearly, Rhodes was thinking the same thing. The man's hands had started on the small of my back, squeezing me up against him, but now they wandered as we continued to fiercely make out. One hand crept south, sliding into the curve of my ass and feeling around on the other side of that yellow sundress. It dipped a bit lower to the hem of my dress, managed to scoot beneath, and then rose back up, lifting my entire skirt so that he could grab a handful of ass. He squeezed, not gently at all, and this time I definitely did let out a little squeak into his mouth!

  His other hand, meanwhile, had decided to head north instead of south. It slid up along the curve of my spine, pausing only when it found the strap that held my bra around me beneath the back of my dress. I wondered what the man was going to do - but I didn't have to wonder for long.

  With a single little flick of his fingers, just on that one hand, the man popped all the little clasps on my bra! I felt a loosening around my chest, a loosening that felt amazingly good. My tits had been crying out for quite a while now, trapped inside that restrictive bra. They instantly were enjoying their newfound freedom.

  And Rhodes was going to enjoy that freedom too! That hand of his, now that it had released the girls from their prison, slid around to my front and dipped down inside the top of my dress.

  I gasped as he grabbed one of my breasts roughly, his big hand managing to wrap around the whole thing, and massaged its softness. My nipple must have been rock-hard, poking into his hand! It was probably almost as hard as other parts of this man's impressive anatomy.

  This time, when we broke apart, there was no long gaze into each other's eyes, no playful banter. We both knew exactly what we wanted. There wasn't any conscious thought - we were animals, overtaken by hormones and determined to rut together, right here and now.

  Rhodes dropped his head and buried it between my breasts. His other hand released its grip on my ass and slid up, just as the top of my dress slid down. My entire chest was bare and exposed, and the man's mouth immediately found those hard pink nipples of mine and latched on. As his tongue slid over them, flicking and tickling, I couldn't hold back a moan of delight. My own hands ran over the smooth, shaved head now exploring the curves of my chest, pulling him in tight against me.

  I was already thinking about all the positions I'd have this man in. Down on the floor, him looming over me like a god! Up against the wall, feeling his hot breath on my back, those big hands exploring over my body as he pulled me in closely towards him. Maybe even on top of him, staring down at him beneath me, his hands free to work over all my areas as I slid back and forth, feeling him diving in and out, loving the control that I had over this muscle-bound giant! There were so many tempting options. I couldn't wait to get started.

  But just then, as my mind was alive with all of these amazing, sexy, history-cleansing options, a sound cut in, intruding on my thoughts. A sound that was simultaneously innocuous and terrifying.

  It was a knock at the dressing room door.

  We both froze, Rhodes' tongue immediately pausing as it flicked over my left nipple. His eyes rose up, and we both stared down, wide-eyed, at each other. We were totally silent, perhaps hoping that the knock had been a shared figment of our imaginations.

  Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. And just as we held our breath, the knock came again, this time louder and more urgent.

  "Rhodes! Are you ready in there?" a voice - a male, concerned, worried voice - called out from the other side of the door. "Hey, man, time to get out of that trance! The fight's about to start, and you've gotta come out, warm up, strut your stuff!"

  My eyes flicked from the door up to the man currently holding my quivering body pressed against him. Rhodes rolled his eyes, looking frustrated. "It's time to go," he whispered down to me. "This is quite frustrating. I'm really being cut off in the middle of something here."

  From the feel of the man, I knew exactly what that something was. I was also very frustrated by this. The sane part of my brain had latched onto this as a lifeline, using it as a chance to get away, but the rest of me knew what was coming next, and was crying out for it to happen. I had wanted this man to keep going, to fulfill all my fantasies.

  But that wasn't going to happen.

  Rhodes reluctantly released me, and I realized then that my dress was now in a bundle around my waist, my entire
chest free for anyone to view. I quickly grabbed my bra and clicked it back shut, despite the cry of my breasts at the return of the compression. As the man fumbled about, fixing himself below the belt, I quickly hauled my dress back up to cover my breasts. Wouldn't want to give the wrong idea about why I was here in this boxer's dressing room before his fight, you know.

  Just as I managed to cover myself back up, the door opened, and a small, ratty looking man stepped in. He was dressed in a black and white tuxedo, but his lack of height combined with his noticeable stoutness made him resemble a penguin more than a member of high society. He glanced at me, and his brow furrowed slightly, but he turned to Rhodes a second later. Clearly, he had bigger things on his mind than a mystery girl in his star's dressing room.

  "Come on, the fight's getting ready!" he insisted, waving his arms at the big boxer as if he could magic him out of the dressing room and into the arena. "We have to get going!"

  Rhodes looked a little bemused at this man's actions, and I had to stifle a giggle. The little manager was barely half as tall as Rhodes, but he was dancing around the boxer like a little chick circling a mother hen. I almost expected Rhodes to reach out and pat the little anxious man on top of his bald dome.

  The man was still talking, a near-constant stream of words pouring out of his mouth. "C'mon, champ! What are you doing? Why are you still waiting? We have to get out and win this thing! You've got a lot of fans in the audience right now. They'll all be cheering for you. We have to go! Be sure to give them a good show. Watch out for your opponent, he's got a nasty left hook that sometimes catches them off guard. Don't let him get through your defense. You've got the power behind your punches, use it. Come on! We gotta get moving!"

  Even as the man danced about, Rhodes turned to me. His voice was low and smooth, but I could still see the fire burning behind his eyes. "Maybe I'll see you after the fight?" he asked. "It would be great to continue that conversation we started." A little flare of light in his eyes indicated exactly what parts of my body he wanted to speak with.