Linc (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 3) Read online

  Usually I pull at least fifty hour weeks waitressing in a steakhouse, and Mason earns his money in a few…illegal enterprises. After we pay for standard living expenses, that doesn’t leave a whole hell of a lot to throw at our sister’s vices. While Mandy makes a decent chunk of change for agreeing to star in pornos, that’s all the money she ever receives, despite how many copies are sold by the production company. It’s bullshit, but that’s how the industry works. The rich get rich off of the lowly “actresses” and the actresses live shitty lives, having to tour strip clubs to make a little extra money on the side. I try really hard not to think about what else my little sister does to earn money on the side. She’s a grown woman who refuses to listen to me, and it feels like I’m running out of options to try and save her from this latest downward spiral. I’m doing what I can, including humiliating myself to dig her out of the current shithole, but Mason and I can’t keep up this daily dose of disaster routine forever. It’s exhausting, and I’m so damn tired.

  ...

  Linc

  I slouch casually in the chair with my beer in my hand, tryin’ to enjoy the brunette humpin’ the stage, but I can't sit still. I'm jonesin’ for another hit of Eve after seein’ her standin’ under the spotlights in nothin’ but a clear, miniscule bikini. Even if she looked like she had a bad case of stage fright freezin’ her up tonight, that woman is so scorchin’ hot. My hard cock has a steady drip going on, eagerly offerin’ to be the one to put out her fire. It's his fault I'm fidgetin’ because he's tryin’ to talk me into some crazy shit like, “Go get her, big boy.” I respond with “What the fuck am I supposed to do, dickhead? Grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and run?” After that he calls me a pussy, and tells me to go jerk off in the bathroom. Now is neither the time nor place for me to put my hand in my pants, cock!

  Durin’ the argument with my dick, my eyes keep cuttin’ over to the table near the back where I know Eve's sittin’, but I can't see her. It's where the majority of men in the club have gathered around, tryin’ to get closer to sex personified. The woman puts all other females to shame, includin’ the women wanderin’ around the black lit club in nothin’ but thongs. While I may take a look at their asses and tits as they walk by because hell, I am a man, they're all...trashy compared to Eve who somehow manages to look like a pure and elegant saint, even though I know for a fact that the girl can flip the switch and suck a long, hard dick down her throat like a sexy, high powered Dirt Devil.

  "You gentlemen look like you could use a little one-on-one time," a bottle blonde stripper says to us. She smacks both of her palms flat down on the small circular table to give me, Nate, and Senn an unobstructed view of her perfectly round, fake tits. "Who wants to go first? How about you, sugar?" This is when I realize she's talkin’ to me.

  "Ah…" I start and glance over at Nate and Senn to see if either of them are interested in a private dance with her since I sure as fuck am not. Senn tips his chair back, balancin’ on just two legs to check out her ass, and then gives a slight shake of his head. He likes big butts and he cannot lie.

  Nate...I reach over next to me and close the ginger's jaw. "He'll go," I tell her. Pullin’ out my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, I hand the girl enough hundreds to keep her happy and the terminally single man entertained for a while.

  "You are the motherfuckin' man," Nate says with a slap to my shoulder when he stands up from the table to go get some titties rubbed in his face. "For the right price, I bet even Eve Kelly would dance for you," he tells me over his shoulder before he follows the blonde down the dark hallway.

  Genius! Hell, why didn't I think of that shit?

  As always, no other stripper in this place will do for a private dance now that I've seen Eve Kelly. I might as well become a monk because I don't know if I'll ever be able to fuck another woman again without Eve's porno on in the background. I will neither admit nor deny that I've done such a thing in the past. And, okay, my less picky dick slightly disagrees with my proclamation, but even he admits he's fairly partial to the porn star.

  "Sadly, red beans and rice did miss her," Senn mutters before throwin’ back his bottle of beer, tellin’ me I had guessed accurately about the stripper’s lack of junk in her trunk.

  "There's gotta be a nice, juicy ass walkin’ around here somewhere for ya," I assure him.

  "You know who has a bangin' ass?" he asks with a smirk.

  I groan, knowin’ the frightening road we're unfortunately about to go down. "Don't fuckin’ say it-"

  "Your sister." He finishes the disturbin’ sentence despite my warnin’, makin’ me cringe.

  "You're gonna pay for that, fucker," I point a finger at him and promise. "Just wait until the doctor clears me. Bring your pillow when you step in the cage with me, 'cause you're gonna be takin’ a lonnng fuckin’ nap."

  "I bet I'll have some sweet ass dreams..." He pauses, still givin’ me that irritatin’ fuckin’ grin. "Of your sister."

  Leanin’ across Nate's now empty seat, I nail Senn in his shoulder hard with my right fist, backed by the force of my uninjured arm. He chuckles in response as he rubs a hand over the sore spot. "No seriously, though, when is Hales's fine ass coming home again?"

  "Fuck if I know. Not that I'd tell you if I did," I reply, tippin’ back my own bottle to swallow the last few sips of flat beer before sittin’ it on the table.

  "Ah come on! Just give me her fuckin’ phone number. Don’t you want me to be your brother-in-law?"

  I bark out a laugh at his overly optimistic statement. "Not a fuckin’ chance," I tell him.

  "Why the hell not?" he asks indignantly, squaring his shoulders.

  "Because every guy Hailey brings home is squeaky clean with an Ivy League degree hangin’ up in their fancy office. And you," I give him a quick once over. "You have shaggy hair that’s long enough for a goofy ass top knot, and are currently wearin’ a Big Johnson's Bar and Casino shirt that says, 'Liquor up front, poker in the rear.'"

  "So?" he says, causin’ me to shake my head. I don't want to encourage the bullshit game he's played ever since he met my older sister a few years ago. It’s only gotten worse after...whatever the fuck happened this past summer between the two of them. I really don’t want to know what he may or may not have done with Hailey the last time she was home.

  For the past few years my sister’s been travelin’ back and forth from LA to New York as a "plus size" model, whatever the fuck that is. She's barely a few inches shorter than me at six feet, and can't possibly weigh more than a buck twenty, yet she's constantly on a diet. I know every time I see her lately, which is mostly just around the holidays when she stops in for a day or two, she seems…really unhappy, which sucks, but she's a grown ass woman, livin’ her own life, so what can I, her little brother miles away, do? Well, other than offer to beat the shit out of whoever makes her miserable?

  "Can we please stop talkin’ about my sister while we're in the middle of a goddamn strip club?" I ask Senn. "You're killin’ my buzz."

  "Fine," he agrees with a sigh. "So are you gonna try and meet your girl before she leaves or what?" He nods to the group of men still formin’ a circle around the back table where Eve is signin’ autographs.

  This is the reason we’re here, right? Because I need to meet the woman of my erotic dreams, see that she’s a horrible, nasty slut, and hopefully be able to rejoin the real world. It’s a necessary step in my addiction recovery.

  "Might as well," I agree, causin’ my dick to twitch in approval. “Although it looks like I might be shit out of luck based on the crowd.”

  Gettin’ to my feet, Senn follows me over to the cluster of anxious men. If I don't at least try to see her face-to-face, I know I'll always regret it.

  The hoots and hollers increase in frequency and volume as we get closer to the group. So do the obscene comments. Fuck, I know I'm no better than these guys since I’ve thought about what it'd be like to screw Eve more times than I can count, but the shit they're sayin’ is start
in’ to really piss me off. Like the frat boy standin’ next to me.

  "Will she fuck me?" the redneck asshole with a backwards baseball cap asks some greasy haired douche wearin’ khakis and a cheesy jacket.

  "You really think Eve Kelly is gonna fuck you for five hundred dollars? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" the douche scoffs. "Cough up five thousand and then we can talk."

  My blood pressure rises at how they're talkin’ about a woman like she's an item up for sale. Yeah, I know she stars in porn, but after seein’ the girl actually dance all shy and hesitantly on stage tonight, I have a hard time believin’ there's any amount of money that could pay for a night with her. Maybe I'm naïve and just don't want to think of my dream woman as a whore, but that's her decision to make, not these two dickheads barterin’ her body for cash.

  "How about two thousand?" Senn suddenly speaks up from beside me and asks the dick in the jacket. "Is that enough to get Eve Kelly to dance for my boy, Linc Abrams?"

  My jaw drops and I don't even have time to ask Senn what the fuck he’s doin’. "The Linc Abrams, big time cage fighter?" The asshole in the jacket’s eyes widen as he strolls over to us. He glances down at the brace on my left arm, apparently answerin’ his own question. "Fuck. It is you!"

  "Ah, yeah," I respond, still givin’ Senn a what the fuck look.

  "Hell, now, we're talking," the man says, rubbin’ his greedy palms together. "Two grand for a private dance with you? That I can damn well make happen."

  "You really think she'd actually go for that?" I ask in disbelief. There’s no way it can be that easy to meet her with all these dickheads tryin’ to get at her.

  "She'll fucking go for it," he replies, then pulls out his cell phone and looks down at the screen. "Let's find an empty room, and as soon as she finishes up here in about fifteen minutes, show-fucking-time."

  "If you're sure," I say, not wantin’ to get my hopes up, but at the same time unable to help the ridiculously giddy feelin’ wellin’ up inside me. With the amount of money in my bank account from wins and sponsors, two thousand is nothin’. I can pretty much buy any fuckin’ thing you can dream up. And this opportunity? Priceless.

  "I'm sure, but I've gotta be honest with you so you don't bitch afterwards," he starts. "Eve can’t fuck you tonight, even for two grand. The bouncers here won’t even let you lay a finger on her in the private rooms. But we can probably set something up for later at a more…private location." This dude is definitely rubbin’ me the wrong way, makin’ my fist beg to get acquainted with his face. Who the hell does he think he is? Her pimp?

  "All I want is me and her in a room without all these assholes," I tell him.

  "Right," he says sarcastically before walkin’ away.

  “Probably best you can’t fuck her,” Senn says, claspin’ my shoulder with a smirk. “It would suck to catch an STD and have your dick fall off.”

  “Shut the fuck up. She doesn’t have any STDs,” I bark at him, even though I can’t possibly know if that’s the truth or not. Am I willin’ to bet my cock on it? Probably not.

  The line of men moves up and then I can see Eve, sittin’ at the end of a small table with her lean legs crossed while reachin’ up to sign some fucker’s t-shirt that he’s still wearing. At the moment she doesn’t look the part of a porn star. No, I’d almost swear she’s more virginal than slutty.

  That thought has me instantly hatin’ myself, because there's a small yet enormous bastard-size part of me that is disappointed I won’t ever get to live out the fantasy of fuckin’ the depraved Eve Kelly from her movies. I'm not sure who I'm more disgusted with, her shady fuckin’ manager or myself for even thinkin’ of puttin’ a price on gettin’ a woman to ride my cock just like that other asshole. It's seriously fucked up, since there are plenty of beautiful women who would willingly spread their legs for me on demand. That's not arrogance, that's the straight truth. Half probably because of my money, and the other half because, well, of how I look. Now that definitely makes me sound like a fuckin’ prick.

  But seriously, my parents, who are by far the absolute dorkiest people on the planet, also happen to possess some bizarre strand of genetic perfection. The two are national comic and gamin’ convention legends ever since a couple years ago when they showed up as Han Solo and Princess Leia. If there was a way to delete shit off the Internet, I'd start with the photos of my mom in the gold bikini. Don’t even get me started on all the MILF shit I’ve had to endure from my friends over the years. My parents are geek gods with their own crazy fans, fueled by the fact that they also kick ass on about any online game you can name. My mom is an IT network consultant by day, while my dad is a software developer Monday through Friday. On the weekends growin’ up, and still to this very day, my mom refuses to cook on weekends durin’ their marathon sessions that includes the two of them blowin’ shit up with game controllers in hand. Hailey and I lived on junk food and deliveries those two days, which we loved as kids. My parents are awesome, they're just a strange combination of freaky, beautiful blond nerds.

  So back to my point, I've never had a problem findin’ women to date, especially not after I won my first Welterweight World Championship title five years ago. The fact that I lost my belt on July Fourth to Jude Malone hasn't diminished the number of cage cunts throwin’ themselves at me in the least. Or maybe I've just noticed them more because other than cardio, I'm not allowed to spend my usual six hours a day trainin’ in the gym. Instead, I've been turnin’ women down to spend hours with my dick in my hand watchin’ Eve fuckin’ Kelly.

  Chapter Three

  Claire

  After what feels like a million dirty hands have copped a feel of my tits and ass in this skimpy bikini, James, Mandy's manager, leans down, and says, "Let's go. You're doing a private lap dance for Linc motherfucking Abrams."

  "A what? Are you out of your damn mind?" I ask indignantly. I'm ready to get the hell out of this disgusting place, take a hot shower using Clorox instead of soap, get comfy in my warm flannel pajamas, and do the one thing in my life that makes me utterly happy - pick up my paintbrush. There's something about brushing the strokes of beautiful colors that I love. It's sort of the same, easy feeling I had as a kid when I'd color with crayons. Painting is just so nice and relaxing, letting me get away from my shit life for a few minutes, even if my final pieces will never be anywhere close to museum worthy.

  "Eve is going to give a lap dance to one of the best fighters in the entire world," James says to me through clenched teeth. "Now get your ass up and get in that goddamn room."

  "I don't give a fuck who he is! That wasn't part of the deal," I snap back at the slimy asshole, refusing to budge from my seat. There is no way in hell I'm gonna get naked for some stranger's perverted viewing pleasure. I'll probably need weeks of therapy to overcome the humiliation of wearing a thong in public while grinding on a pole. What was I thinking when I agreed to this bullshit?

  "Fine," James says on an exhale. "I'll give you half of the two grand he's paying."

  Another thousand dollars just to rub my bare ass on some jackass's lap? "For how long?" I ask hesitantly. Am I really willing to give up my self-respect to make a few dollars? Well, more than a few. A freaking thousand.

  James smirks, knowing he has me. "Half an hour tops."

  "Half an hour!" I exclaim. Five minutes? Over and done, quick and easy. Ten minutes? I could possibly endure. But anything past fifteen, and now I'm not so sure.

  "Yes, thirty whole minutes you have to dance naked for the bastard. Look, the time will fly by, and he's not allowed to touch you," he says, pulling me up by both of my arms to get me on my feet. I barely have time to find my balance in my sister's red, skyscraper heels as he drags me past the line of gawking men and down a dimly lit hallway.

  My heart starts racing so fast that I suddenly feel dizzy and short of breath. And that taco salad I had for lunch? Yeah, it's getting tossed around in my stomach right about now and threatening to make a reappearance.

&nb
sp; When we come to a stop in front of a closed purple door with a gold number three on it, I panic because this whole ordeal is starting to feel like I'm about to enter a sleazy pay by the hour hotel. My eyes start to burn and I gasp to take in some much needed oxygen. "No!" the word comes out of my mouth sounding close to a sob. I jerk free of the asshole's grip and flatten my back against the wall, shaking my head. "I can't...I can't do this."

  "Yes, you are," James replies before he opens the door and walks into the room that's my worst nightmare come to life. I always swore to myself that I would never, no matter how desperate I am for money, sell any part of my body. Dancing on top of a man naked is pretty damn close to that line. Closer than I ever thought I would get, and I'm ashamed for losing sight of that promise to myself because of a thousand dollars.

  James steps back out of the room holding a thick wad of cash. God, that's a lot of money. More money than I make in weeks waitressing. Money Mandy needs to start over. To finally get clean.

  "Give him a good show," James says. Yanking me off the wall, he shoves me none too gently into the room before slamming the door in my face. My teeth grind painfully against each other as I imagine the variety of ways I plan to kick him in the nuts one of these days.

  Eyes squeezed shut with my hand on the door knob, I'm still considering my options. Stay or run? I turn the knob just to prove to myself it's not locked, and I can still leave if I want to. When it easily twists without resistance, I take a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth to try to stop my body from shaking. I give myself a quick pep talk, chanting over and over, I can get through this. It’s worth it for Mandy. I can do this. It’s for a lot of money.