Fighter

I’m a fighter.
I fought to survive on the streets after running away at seventeen. I did what I had to, and I make no apologies for it.
I fought and clawed my way up from illegal street fighting to a UFC contender.
I fought my fear and came back to this wretched place, where my stepfather made me so miserable eleven years ago.
I could fight how much I want my stepsister, who’s suddenly all grown up.
I could fight to keep my secrets hidden.
I could fight.
If I wanted to…
Couldn’t I?

This is a standalone novella, approximately 35,000 words, with no cliffhanger.

Be prepared for dark moments, haunting secrets, pain, redemption, and sexy times ahead. For adults only.

Excerpt (not safe for work)

Paxton

Acid churned in my gut, making my solar plexus feel like I’d taken a punch that hadn’t been properly guarded as I walked up the pretentious driveway of the sprawling estate that was my stepfather’s home. I would give anything to turn around and go back to my 1969 GTO, restored by my own hands, but I couldn’t just leave my mother there alone to die.

Even with the heavy thoughts weighing me down, I couldn’t help noticing with appreciation the kneeling form of the girl tending the flower beds. Apparently, Dirk Gaithway had engaged a more beautiful garden service than I remembered him having eleven years ago.

The hot little honey-blonde in front of me was crouched over, short shorts barely grazing the crease where ass met thigh, and wearing a cropped shirt that had flipped up in the back to show a tempting expanse of golden-brown flesh. In seconds, I was harder than I had been for a long time, and it was gratifying to know that at least something still worked on the suffocating grounds of the Gaithway estate. After the past I’d left behind here, it amazed me I could get even the tiniest of erections, let alone a raging hard-on for some girl whose face I hadn’t even seen yet.

Pausing beside her, I loomed just a bit over her, flashing my sexiest grin as her head lifted. I took off my aviator shades and tucked them into the neckline of my tank top and winked at her, certain she was swooning by now at my chocolate-brown gaze. Yeah, I could be a conceited motherfucker, but having a following of groupies could do that to any man. It swelled a head—the one above your shoulders and below your belt. “Hey there, beautiful.”

She stood up slowly, revealing a tight, but curvaceous, figure in that skimpy outfit. Honey-blonde hair fell down past her waist from a ponytail she’d used to confine it, and when she ran a hand through her hair to shove it off her sweaty face, she left behind a streak of dirt. I guess it should have turned me off, but it was damned adorable. Without thought or permission, I reached up to wipe it away with my thumb before dusting the digit on my tight faded jeans.

A tentative smile broke out, and suddenly she was in my arms. I embraced her automatically, thinking to myself that the girl moved fast. I half-expected her to rub up against me in an enticing fashion, and it wouldn’t be the first chick who had tried to dry hump me as I squeezed out through a crowd, though these circumstances were different. The last thing I expected was her dulcet tones that rang with familiarity and doused my arousal like an ice water bath for my cock.

“Paxton, I’m so glad you’re home.”

I recognized that voice. It was the same one that had frantically reached out to me three days before, after she had worked her way through an entire entourage of my underlings, the people who guarded my privacy and shielded me from the crazy fans. Somehow, she had persuaded them to put her through to each person in the chain, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why if she was as sweet-sounding as she looked.

Hell, I had spoken to her briefly, only long enough to believe her and promise to come, and I’d been charmed by her sweetness in that brief amount of time. It was startling to realize the little girl who’d been ten years old the last time I saw her was now a gorgeous young woman, standing in my arms.

Fuck.

She had made my dick hard enough to pound nails.

I wanted to fuck my stepsister.

Fuck, was I in trouble.

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