Chapter Seven

AVA

W arrior's Den, Main Arena

I clutched my phone in one hand and my fizzy mocktail in the other, heart pounding as I watched the ring and the crowd from my front row seat. I wanted something stronger to drink, but I was working tonight. My note app was open, ready to capture the highlights of the main fight.

My smartwatch vibrated on my wrist, informing me of my elevated heart rate. The energy of the evening was getting to me. The air vibrated with excitement as fans chanted Ryder's name.

The crowd went wild as his entrance music blared through the speakers and flooded the room. My eyes locked on Ryder as he emerged from the entrance, all muscle and lethal grace. He raised his gloved fists in the air to the crowd as he passed. My pulse continued to pound, racing while I stood still, waiting for him to make it to the front row. He scanned the row until he found me, and the intensity of his gaze once we made eye contact sent a shiver careening down my neck and back.

My smartwatch vibrated again, and I caught a brief flash across the screen. Without taking my eyes off Ryder, I already knew what the little device wanted. It recorded my elevated pulse and thought I was about to work out.

The kind of physical activity I was thinking about doing with Ryder wasn't on the watch's workout menu.

I took a breath as Ryder tore his gaze away and climbed into the ring. Back to reality. I needed to get my head into this fight, too.

Ryder told me days ago how much it would mean to him if I watched his fight. I wondered since then if he said it because he wanted me to write a good story or that he actually wanted me here.

There I went again, overthinking. I sat down and took a sip of my drink and let the fizz play on my tongue. Regardless of what he meant, this was working out well for both of us. Here was his chance to retain the title and win the prize money, and I got a chance to cover the biggest MMA fight of the season.

The ref stood in the middle of the ring between the two opponents. He rattled off the rules to them, then signaled for the fight to begin. I leaned forward in my seat.

The crowd roared as Ryder and Liam circled each other, fists raised. Liam struck first, lightning quick, but Ryder dodged and landed a punch of his own.

I winced at the sound of leather gloves pounding on flesh. My heart pommeled as the fighters exchanged blows, a brutal dance of dodging and attacking.

Ryder's charisma shone through with every move. He moved in the ring with the lethal grace of a predatory cat, his skilled footwork a strategic dance. He played to the crowd, inciting them to cheer louder, all while keeping his focus on Liam. His left fist shot out in a swift southpaw. Then he followed with a right hook before Liam could block. Each punch he landed drew a roar of approval. He was in his element, fueled by the adrenaline and the love of the fight.

My thumbs flew across my phone screen, typing words to capture what I witnessed. In less than two minutes, Ryder won the first round, landing a jab to Liam's chest. I cheered. The guy next to me got a little too excited and kicked over my drink, but I was too focused on the match to mind.

The fight between Ryder and Liam heated up in the second and third rounds. Ryder won the second, while Liam collected more points in the third with a series of fast strikes and fierce kicks. He repeated his success in the fourth round.

Now the two men were matched. The fight could go either way in the fifth and final round. I gripped the railing in front of the first row, torn between anxiety and awe at Ryder's skill.

This final round came down to endurance. Liam fought back hard. Ryder dug deep, standing strong against his assault. He waited for an opening and landed another punch that sent his opponent sprawling.

He closed in as Liam staggered to get on shaky feet. Liam launched a crooked left jab, only for Ryder to dodge and get his right arm into a fierce submission hold. He used a foot sweep to take out his legs. Liam fell to the ground, twisting in vain to get out.

The ref called the match. Ryder won.

I sprung to my feet along with the crowd. Ryder searched the sea of faces, sweat dripping down his brow and his expression alight with triumph. Then his eyes fell on me again. I paused, my stomach tightening as I picked up on his raw energy. His eyes darkened with a simmering emotion that made me think of power, sex, and possession. Right there in the Warriors Den, my clit throbbed amid the drone of applause and the steady bass of Ryder's theme music pumping through the speakers.

Media swarmed towards him as he moved through the aisle, eager to capture these celebratory moments. More spilled food and drinks littered the aisles. I had to keep a tight grip on my phone, as well as make sure my heels didn't land in sticky soda. No sense in ending up KO'ed before I had my chance to ask Ryder questions.

I fought my way through the crowd to get out of the arena. Veering left, I strode down a less crowded but still noisy portion of the facility. My feet hurt as I speed-walked on the concrete floor to get to the press room. Other reporters, mostly guys in polos and designer sneakers, raced past me, some colliding against my side without a second thought. I understood how sports coverage, especially MMA, could get aggressive, but the least they could do was watch where they were going or say excuse me.

I showed my media pass to security at the door of the press room. They nodded and let me in to stand among my colleagues. The guys were jockeying for the best spot closest to the table where Ryder would soon be seated.

Ryder did it. His win meant the dog shelter would be getting the upgrade after all. Warmth filled my chest as I thought about the service dogs getting adopted and both them and their new owners getting the companionship they needed. This world of Ryder's, with its blood, sweat, and rough edges, was also capable of producing good to the world.

My mind centered on those thoughts while I waited for the man of the hour to show his handsome face.

All of us stood in the room for another twenty minutes. Then the rear door opened, and a freshly showered and athleisure-clothed Ryder crossed the threshold. The line of journalists and camera crew in front of me surged forward. He took a seat at the table while, as usual, the journalists hurled their questions and shouted over each other for his attention. I was hardly any better as I moved along the side, stepping over cords and raising my phone over people's heads to record his words.

As I got closer to the table, I felt a familiar flutter in my stomach. It wasn't just the excitement of the fight; it was him.

Someone asked him a question about how Liam was doing. "He's good. I think he did well for his first main event here."

"Is he licking his wounds?" Another journalist cut in.

Ryder remained diplomatic; his expression unchanged. "His team is taking care of him. I'm certain this isn't the last time we'll see him in the main event." He broke into a smile. "Now can somebody ask me a question that won't get me into another fight tonight?"

Amid the lull of chuckles, I called out his name. "Ryder."

He turned in my direction. Despite being in the crowded room, it was as if we were the only two people there. I remembered what I was going to say. "I watched you train day in and out. How are you feeling now that all your hard work has come to this, you keeping your heavyweight title?"

"It's all about the team," he began, his voice resonating with the gratitude that underpinned his success. "And the people who care about you."

My pulse quickened in response to his answer.

"Without their support, none of this could happen," Ryder continued. "Even those who cover what we do in here day to day to make this possible. They're the real champions behind the scenes."

The atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming more intimate as though his acknowledgment had woven a thread connecting us. My work demeanor warred with the heat tingling its way up my spine.

"Thanks for coming, everyone," he said suddenly, wrapping up the press conference sooner than we anticipated. "Now I want to celebrate." And with that, he stepped away from the table and back through the door where he came in.

The buzz of conversation swelled once more, comments about his performance and speculation about his next match filling the space he'd vacated. I remained still for a moment longer, lost in our charged connection lingering in the air.

Security ordered us to clear the room. Since the fight was over and I had no other business here tonight, I decided to leave.

Outside, the crisp evening air brushed against my skin as I waited for my driver. The hum of the excitement faded behind me. My phone screen cast a soft glow against my face as a sleek black limo pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down smoothly. Ryder appeared, fresh from his victory, his eyes still ablaze with the thrill of the win.

Yet something in his face, and a tingle in my pussy, told me he didn't count the night as over.

"Need a lift?" His voice shifted into a blend of playfulness and challenge that always seemed to lure me in.

"Thanks, champ." I couldn't help but let a laugh escape as I approached the vehicle. "I didn't expect to get a limo upgrade tonight, but I won't complain." The scent of leather enveloped me as I climbed into the limo's plush interior.

No sooner had the door closed behind me than Ryder leaned over. His lips caught mine in a searing kiss that sent a jolt through me. It was impulsive, intense, and so very him. All the shared glances and unspoken words from the past couple weeks built up in this one act, rekindling the smoldering attraction between us.

Desire danced with reason. I knew I wanted him again. And with the big fight over, I didn't have to worry so much about being a professional all night.

"Take me back to my hotel," I whispered, my breath hitching as the words left my lips.

"What about my place?" He traced the contour of my mouth with his tongue.

I nodded. And without another word, the limo glided into motion, taking us away from the world and toward a place where only we existed.

As the city lights blurred past us, I caught the driver's silhouette through the darkened screen dividing the front of the limo from the back. Concern flickered across my mind. Should I worry about being seen with Ryder in the limo? But then I remembered how often celebrities were chauffeured around, the press mingling with the stars in a constant dance of visibility and secrecy. Right , I thought, dismissing the anxiety. This is just another night in the limelight.

The drive passed in a blur. When we arrived at Ryder's house, his hands found mine, his touch sending sparks of desire cascading through my veins. Our lips met again, this time with a thirst that refused to be ignored.

We broke apart long enough to walk up the driveway with enough discretion to make it look like I was headed to another interview.

Yeah. Who was I kidding? No one was outside, but even if they were, what grown person in their right mind would imagine he and I were just going to his place to schmooze and talk shop over tea? I heard the limo pull away behind us. Surely the driver was used to being discreet around his clientele.

My thoughts on my poor attempt at discretion were toast once Ryder opened the door to his house. As soon as we were inside, he pinned me against the wall. "You have no idea how much I wanted to take you on the table in the media room." The stubble of his jaw raked against my cheek as he planted searing kisses on my heated skin.

"It's good you didn't try." My words came out throaty as he nibbled on my shoulders. "Can you imagine all the questions those other reporters would've asked?"

"I don't want to talk about them or the fight anymore." His erection pressed hot and hard against me through his sweats. "I just want the rest of this night to be about us. I need to feel you, Ava."

I responded in kind, nails raking down his back as I ground against him with a need that took precedence over being proper.

"God, you feel good." His groan emboldened me to keep going. I explored the contours of his muscular arms, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips. His hands roamed my body, igniting every nerve ending as they traced the curve of my waist. Clothes became an unnecessary barrier, discarded with hurried movements.

"I want you. Now."

I nodded to his demand. He scooped me up and carried me into another room. I lifted an eyebrow as he deposited me onto the plush rug in the den.

"Change your mind?"

He followed me down to continue his sensual assault on my lips and skin. "Who said anything about a bed?"

I didn't care where in his house we had sex, as long as our bodies touched. Ryder lavished my stomach and legs with kisses and caresses, learning all over again what made me sigh and gasp. I did the same, my fingers dancing across the planes of his chest and abs.

Every inch of my body was awake and tingling with Ryder's touch. He deepened the kiss, and I tasted him on my lips. I moaned into his mouth, feeling a rush of desire. His hands moved down to my ass, my soft flesh yielding to his firm grasp.

He looked into my eyes, his hazel orbs filled with lust and desire. I couldn't help but smile, feeling the power of this moment.

The warmth of Ryder's living room was nothing compared to the heat we were creating, our bodies entwined on the plush carpet that now served as our makeshift sanctuary. I could feel every contour of his muscles against me, the strength in his arms as he held me close, and the fervent beat of his heart melding with my own. Our breaths mingled while the dim glow from a floor lamp cast shadows over us.

He reached for the waistband of his joggers and briefs and pulled them down, revealing his toned body and erection. I bit my lip, unable to tear my eyes away from him. He looked like a Greek god, every muscle defined, every movement smooth and confident.

He climbed on top of me, our bodies melding together perfectly. He kissed me again, his tongue exploring my mouth as his hips started to move against me. His cock rubbed between my thighs, sending pleasure through me with every thrust.

Our skin was hot, slick with sweat. My hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles ripple with every move. He pushed himself up, giving me a wicked grin as he reached for his discarded pants on the floor. "Don't want to forget this." I watched as he got a condom from his wallet and rolled it onto his erection. For several brief beats, I wondered what it would be like to feel his cock hot and bare in my warm, wet pussy, to feel him come inside me.

He positioned himself between my legs. I lifted my hips until I felt the tip at my entrance. He gave me a lustful stare. Without breaking eye contact, he thrusted into me, filling me completely. I groaned, my body arching up to meet his.

He was so big tonight. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pain, of surrender and dominance. Ryder's hips moved in a perfect rhythm, his body a masterful instrument. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through me, my body clenching around him.

He pulled out slightly, then plunged back in, his gaze never leaving mine. His eyes were molten gold in the dim light. I sensed the possessiveness contained within that threatened to consume him. Instead of intimidating me, it only served to heighten my own desire, my need for him.

Ryder teased me with expertise, his lips tracing a flirtatious path along my collarbone, whispering promises that sent shivers down my spine. The sensation of him inside me—filling me completely—was overwhelming, a crescendo of desire that I never wanted to end.

"Ryder." His name was a long moan on my lips. I gasped, my fingers digging into the sinew of his shoulders, nails likely leaving crescents imprinted in his flesh. I was lost in the moment, in the sensations, in the man on top of me. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, his breath ragged.

Sexual pleasure steadily built inside me as he took my arms over my head, pinning them while he fucked me in repeated long, deep thrusts. His body shook as he reached his own peak. He plunged deep one last time. Through the thin barrier of the condom, I sensed the pulsing heat, the finality of his climax that had him uttering my name like a sacred incantation.

Sweat dropped from his brow onto my chest as he leaned down. Before the aftershocks of his orgasm had time to dissipate, Ryder spoke to me in my ear. "Do you want to be in control?" Each word was a brushstroke of temptation.

His question was a husky whisper, his breath warm on my cheek. I didn't know exactly what he meant by control, but I wanted to experience everything with him. I hesitated for only a fraction of a second, captivated by the idea, before nodding. "Yes," I breathed out, not entirely certain of what would come next but fueled by a surge of empowerment.

With a smile that hinted at both admiration and anticipation, Ryder adjusted our bodies with an athlete's grace. His strong hands guided me effortlessly until I was straddling him, the new position offering a different perspective, a different power dynamic. Positioned above him, I took a moment to appreciate the reversal, the way the low light caught on our glistening figures. My body was taut with pent up erotic tension.

I took the lead, my hips finding a rhythm that made my heart thunder against my ribs. The soft grind of my knees against the plush carpet was a minor discomfort compared to the mounting pleasure that spiraled within me. Ryder's hands roamed over my body, his touch lighting fires on every inch of skin he grazed.

"Fuck, Ava," he groaned, his voice strained with desire as his fingers dug gently into the flesh of my hips, guiding me, urging me on. He lifted his head to draw one taut nipple into his mouth, sucking with a fervor that sent electric shocks straight to my core.

My breath hitched, and I threw my head back, lost in the sensations, the way my body moved fluidly over his. His tongue flicked and swirled, teasing my sensitive peaks until I could feel the pressure building like a storm within me. I rode him harder, chasing the climax that danced just out of reach, spurred on by the need in his eyes and the relentless pursuit of our shared pleasure.

"Ryder," I panted, my movements growing more desperate. He met each of my thrusts with his own, a silent promise that he was with me, for me. I could feel every inch of him, hard and ready beneath me, and it drove me wild.

"Come for me, beautiful," he murmured against my skin, his words a mix of command and plea that unraveled any remaining restraint I had.

I increased the pace. I arched my back, crying out as the orgasm took over, sending me into a world of bliss. Ryder continued to thrust, driving me higher and higher with each movement.

My name spilled from Ryder's lips like a benediction, his grip on me both anchor and wings as I soared and shattered, pieces of me reforming under the intensity of his gaze, in the sanctuary of his arms.

I collapsed on top of him. We lay there, our bodies still joined, our breaths ragged and uneven. I heard his heart thundering against mine before my eyes drifted closed.