No Control (The Fighter Series Book 7) Read online

  The Fighter Series #7

  By: TC Matson

  Copyright © 2019 TC Matson

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. Copyright property of the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permissions of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected].

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, whether living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognizes the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

  Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations

  Dedication

  Just because you’re broken doesn’t mean you’re weak.

  Strength comes when you find your footing.

  Strength comes….

  If you are experiencing abuse—verbal or physical—and need some help, please contact:

  THE NATIONAL DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE

  1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

  https://www.thehotline.org/

  Chapter 1

  Three months ago…

  I slam my fist into Rich Garcia’s cheek to put some distance between us. He lit me up and now my head is swimming. My legs wobble as I stumble away to find my bearings. My hit does nothing to him and he steps in with solid combinations—lefts and rights—connecting most of them. Ducking and weaving, I try my damnedest to protect my face and prevent myself from being knocked the hell out.

  Warmth trickles down my face, the blood twisting around my eyes and down my cheek. As I blink, a sudden white light explodes and I’m swallowed by the black static teasing my vision. I stagger backward into the cage.

  “Find your feet!” I hear Ryker, my coach, roar at me.

  Garcia lunges, digging his shoulder into my stomach, and wraps his arms around my waist, trying to pull me down to the mat. Although I’m normally comfortable there, I know if I go down now, I’m done. I’ll lose. I’m so fucking gassed I barely have any energy left.

  This is the hardest fucking fight I’ve had in two years.

  My back falls against the cool metal cage allowing me to stabilize and catch my breath. It doesn’t stop him though. He’s against me, sending violent jabs into my ribs hoping to take me down with a liver hit. He wants me to buckle, but I won’t. I can’t.

  Digging deep, I shove him away with every ounce of my burning muscles, causing him to lose his balance. As he takes a step away, he lurches forward again and I send a wild Hail Mary punch.

  My knuckles connect with his chin. Instantly, he drops and the crowd detonates into an ear-splitting roar.

  The ref leaps between us and calls off the fight.

  I close my eyes, tilting my face toward the ceiling. “Thank fuck…”

  Ryker lifts me in a bear hug before dropping me back down and slapping my shoulder. I don’t have a chance to hear what he’s saying as the cutman moves in and begins working on the gash above my eyebrow.

  After officially being declared the victor—TKO in the third round—and doing the after-fight interview, I’m finally able to make my way to the locker room, following Ryker and his brother, Kyce. I’m in dire need of a shower.

  Ryker holds the door as I pass by and then slams it shut behind me. “What the fuck was that?” he growls with disappointment burning from his glare.

  Ryker is one of the best MMA fighters this league has ever had. The only loss he’s ever experienced was his own undoing and he’ll tell you he deserved it.

  His nostrils flare as he clenches his jaw. He stands a few inches taller than me and is almost forty pounds heavier. He’s fucking intimidating.

  I look to the man I consider a brother. “Lucky,” I admit, displeased with myself. “It was a fucking lucky shot. I was gassed out.”

  “Yeah. It was. You exerted every damn thing you had in your first two rounds like a big shot. I specifically told you not to fucking do it. Garcia knew you would and fucked with you,” he berates me.

  I hate disappointing him. He has a great deal of faith in me and I don’t like letting him down. “Yeah. I know,” I grit out.

  He exhales a frustrated breath but then shoves my shoulder. “Chin up. A win is a win regardless of how sloppy it is. But next time, don’t rely on luck. That shit runs out.”

  I nod and then head for the shower.

  After washing away all the sweat, blood, and annoyance, I feel human again. I’m running a towel over my hair to dry it as I step back into the locker room to get my stuff packed up.

  “When are you heading back?” Kyce asks.

  “I’ll head home tomorrow,” I reply, shoving my gear into my duffel bag.

  It’s a rarity that we have a fight so close to home. They’re normally hours and states away, but not this time.

  Kyce chuckles, shaking his head. “Ah. The after parties. How fun they are.”

  Ryker’s eyes slide to the side before his head turns to look at his brother. He raises a brow. “Right. Fun. So you’re going with him?” Sarcasm drips from his tone.

  Kyce’s head snaps up. “Hell no! Jolie’s my after party and she’s waiting on my sexy ass to get home to ravish her body. But, Mr. Married Man, it wasn’t too long ago we indulged in those parties.”

  “The fuck if I did. That was your scene,” Ryker replies with a curt chuckle. “Shameless fucks were never my thing.”

  Kyce rolls his eyes. “Pussy’s pussy, dude.”

  Ignoring him, Ryker tips his chin to me with a sly twist of his lips. “Have fun.”

  Alcohol. Women. Sex. Tonight’s party is exactly what I need to get out of this funk. Yeah, I won, but no fighter wants to win by luck. It’s like a slap to the face. We spend countless hours in the gym perfecting our moves, working on our reaction times, improving our stamina, and staying in shape. There’s no room for luck in strategies.

  Two women paw at me while the party continues in the other room. One kisses my neck as the other unzips my pants, shoving them down to free my strained dick. They’ve hawked me since the moment I walked through the door. Their intentions are very clear—bragging rights. They want to fuck tonight’s winner. I’m not complaining. These two are a one-night package.

  Blondie pulls off her red tank-top revealing a perfect set of nice round tits. She cups my hands over them and I knead, pinching her nipples. She drops her head back and moans softly as she grinds her pussy on my leg for friction. We’ll need to do something about her pants soon.

  The brunette grins seductively as she stands and strips her black mini dress.

  My view rakes over her toned bare body, admiringly. “Fuck yes.”

  Sinking my fingers into the blonde’s hair, I pull her close claiming her lips. Our tongues tangle just as the brunette joins us. Three-way kisses are a fucking mess, but so motherfucking hot.

  My dick is being stroked, my nuts massaged. Yeah. It’s going to be a damn good night.

  “I’m going to suck your dick,” the brunette purrs as she slides off my lap and between my legs.

  Blondie hums. “Oh, I’m helping.”

  Reaching out, I pinch their nipples. “Your reward will be getting fucked hard.”

  Blondie laps under my nuts with a heavy tongue as the brunette strokes my cock. I expel a breath when she sucks me into her mouth and deep
throats my dick like a fucking pro. She works fast and hard and then the blonde joins. Their tongues tangle, slipping up and down and around my shaft, each suck a different pressure. Together they slide to the tip of my dick and share a heated kiss, moaning as they rub each other’s tits. They waste no time alternating turns on my cock. The blonde uses more pressure. The brunette uses more tongue.

  I watch, rapt as the sexy scene plays out between my legs.

  The brunette lowers herself down the blonde’s body, dragging her tongue over her nipples and sucking them into her mouth before positioning the blonde’s hips. She moves behind her and, with a devilish grin, starts eating her out.

  “Fucking hell.” I smirk.

  Blondie’s moans vibrate my cock. I bite my bottom lip, completely spellbound as I watch the brunette lick her pussy and up her ass. It makes blondie work harder on my cock.

  She rolls her eyes up to me, swirling her tongue across the tip of my dick. “You like watching Starla eat my pussy,” she pants with swollen lips.

  Starla…?

  It breaks the rapturous trance and I plunge back into reality.

  I don’t even know their fucking names.

  This is what my life has come to.

  Meaningless. Nameless. Passionless. Satiated, but empty.

  This wasn’t my style two years ago. I at least knew the name of the person I was fucking. But now, women beg me to fuck them. They don’t care what my name is, only my status. This is exactly what Ryker warned me about—nothing good other than the sex comes from these groupies, and sometimes that could be a loss.

  I’ve become just as shameless as them.

  I clench my teeth, pissed, and grab the blonde on both sides of her head. “Sorry, ladies.” I pop her off my cock. “I’m not feeling it tonight.”

  “Mmm…not what your dick is saying.” The blonde grins wagging her eyebrows.

  I stand and tuck my cock back into my pants. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Was it something we weren’t doing?” Blondie scrambles up. “Just tell us. I’m down for anything, even anal.” She scrapes her teeth across her lip.

  Starla hums impishly. “We can have hours of fun. Just tell us what you need.”

  “You two have all the fun you want. I’m out,” I say over my shoulder.

  They’re pouting and huffing as I shut the door behind me and get the hell out of the party. My hands shake as I barrel into the fresh air and onto the sidewalk.

  “Fuck!” I growl, dragging my hands over my face. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I’m all for casual sex. It’s healthy and a damn good release—one I especially need tonight—but watching them so eager to please me without knowing their names? Man, there must be more to life than this shit, no matter how good tonight would’ve been. I need to get back to me, the guy with a purpose in life.

  Walking through the quiet town, I head back to the hotel. I watch a few cars’ tail lights disappear into the pavement as they drive into the distance. No one crowds the sidewalks to leave one party and head to the next. There aren’t any stores open, not even a damn pizza place. This is nothing compared to home where a few bars stay open and Frankie’s Pizza doesn’t close until three in the morning. This town is boring.

  “Stop! Help!” a blood curdling scream tears through the quietness.

  Like a rocket, my adrenaline shoots through me and I take off, sprinting toward the cries. Just as I slide around the corner, I see a woman struggling to hold on to her bag, yanking back only to be jerked forward as a man tries again to get it. In slow motion, I watch him brandish a gun and put it to her head.

  My sprint turns into an almighty run. “Hey!” I shout, getting his attention.

  He spins around, pointing the gun at me and causing me to skid to a dead stop. “Mind your fucking business,” he snarls. Just then, the woman jerks again, trying to flee, but he snatches her back and shoves the barrel into her head. “Just give me the fucking bag.”

  My heart is jackhammering. I’m close enough to see the moonlight glinting off the gun. Close enough to see the terror in her eyes, the desperation in his.

  “Please!” she pleads, tugging again.

  While his attention is on her, I lunge, sucker punching the asshole in the face as I simultaneously shove the woman out of the way. He shuffles back and I charge at him, but he raises the gun and shoots. Fire bursts in my left shoulder, but I advance forward, ignoring the pain. Wrapping my arms around his torso, I force his arms to his side.

  He fights, twisting and pulling against me. I slam a punch into his ribs, hearing the sharp expel of his breath mere seconds before the next gunshot goes off. This time…this time it fucking hurts. Scalding heat explodes through me.

  Powered by adrenaline and the determination to level this fucker, I send a right hook into his stomach. But as I take the step, my left leg gives out and my punch is weak. I drop, falling to my hands and knees. Excruciating pain booms through me as I watch the fucker stagger away and run off.

  “Oh my god! Oh my god!” I hear the woman as I fall to my back. Wide green eyes on an angel’s face drop into my view. “Oh my god. I’m calling 911.” She fumbles frantically for her phone.

  My heart is pounding, my head throbbing with each beat.

  There’s a weird calmness as I lie still, listening.

  Panic-stricken, she says I’ve been shot in the chest.

  Also, in the leg.

  Fabulous.

  “They’re coming. They’re on the way,” she stammers, grabbing my right hand. “I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

  “How bad is it?”

  She shakes her head fiercely. “I can’t look.”

  I puff a chuckle and it sends a torrid heat to burst down my shoulder and across my thigh, like a white-hot branding iron is being held against my flesh. It steals my smile…and my breath.

  Feeling tired, I close my eyes.

  “What’s your name?” she rushes out and I open my eyes to see hers darting between mine.

  This can’t be good. I lift my head to evaluate the damage, but she leans her face into my view. “No. Talk to me. What’s your name?”

  “Carter,” I answer, closing my eyes again and dropping my head to the pavement with a thud.

  “I’m Kinley,” she squeaks.

  Kinley…that’s a pretty name.

  “You’re going to be fine. Okay? I hear the sirens,” she tells me.

  Problem is, I don’t. All I hear is the beat of my heart thumping in my ears. A frigid chill runs down my spine, causing me to shiver, but in its wake a blistering heat crashes into me. The stars blur…

  Chapter 2

  Three months ago…

  The official damage—I was shot in my left shoulder, the bullet shredding the muscles around it and stopping just before it could shatter any bones. The bastard also shot me in the thigh where it went straight through, thankfully missing all the important parts. After getting some X-rays, they knocked me out to remove the bullet from my shoulder and assess the damage.

  The room is silent except for the hum from the machines. It’s quite the opposite of the hustle of the nurses and doctors when I first got here. Mom showed up shortly after I was wheeled back into my room from surgery. Other than her fraught cries when she first got here, she’s been quiet while I come in and out of my catnaps. Thanks to the pain medication, the soreness from my fight mixed with the new holes some fucking asshole shot into my body hasn’t had the chance to sink in yet.

  There’s a tap on the door and I crack open my eye in time to see Ryker stroll in with worry pulling his brows together. “That phone call sucked.” His tone is pragmatic.

  “Yeah.” I stretch my stiff back. “Mom went into panic mode. I told her to let you sleep in.”

  He crosses his large arms over his chest and drops his shoulder to the wall. “What the fuck happened? Last I heard you were going to an after party.”

  “I was on my way back to the hotel when I caught some guy tr
ying to rob a woman. I intervened and he shot me,” I tell him.

  Mom comes back into the room with two cups of coffee, looking just as tired as I feel. Her hair is pulled back, face free of makeup, and eyes that aren’t gleaming, but the moment she spots Ryker she smiles and hands him a coffee.

  “Thought you may want one,” she says.

  Ryker hugs her, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “Adeline, how are you?”

  “I’ve had better days.” Her voice shakes.

  Ryker pulls her back into his chest. Over the years we’ve known each other, he’s become like a second son to her. He’s part of my family just as much as I am his. My mother adores him.

  She wipes her cheeks before blessing me with a soft warm smile. “Do you need anything? Anything hurt? Do you feel okay?”

  I don’t dare to tell her I hurt everywhere. “I’m fine, Mom. But could you give me a moment with Ryker please?”

  “Sure. I’ll run to the cafeteria. Are you hungry? When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

  I puff a chuckle at her full mom-mode when I’m in the hospital with nurses. “I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”

  “I’ll see what they have and sneak you something in.” She ignores me and kisses the side of my head.

  I close my eyes when she leaves.

  “Where’s Ray?” Ryker asks.

  His question causes me to bark a laugh. Ray is my worthless stepfather who is probably at home pissed because I didn’t die last night. No worries. We share the mutual hatred. He’s a good for nothing, useless excuse for a human being.

  “Like I’m important enough,” I state the obvious.

  “Adeline is. He should be here with her,” he replies.

  “Not everyone is as wonderful as you,” I say sarcastically. “We all know if it has something to do with me, Mom’s on her own.”

  He’s quiet for a moment and then moves to the foot of my bed. “How do you really feel?”