Possessive Boston Irish American MMA Fighter: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 77) Read online

  And Gavin never fell short in any regard.

  Not in his mind, where he was a mental giant in the game of mental warfare.

  And certainly not at weigh-ins where every woman alive was definitely not looking at the scale to see what the number read. The only number that mattered was the one in his tight trunks.

  Ten inches.

  It had been debated, discussed, dissected and just generally fawned over for the entirety of his career.

  And the latest poll they had on one of his many fan websites gave Gavin a “ten” in score, and length, when it came to his perfect penis.

  The one every woman that followed mixed martial arts, or MMA, wanted…in addition to half the world that didn’t follow sports, but did follow him.

  That’s the kind of leader he is. A true warrior. The man other men would line up behind to follow into battle, and woman would line up to follow into the bedroom.

  But the paparazzi and the press had never uncovered the names of any that had succeeded.

  Which gave me hope…and my showerhead and Hitachi Magic Wands an ever-increasing workout.

  I say Wands because I’m already on my third. Hell, I’ve even named them.

  Number one was simply his name, Gavin.

  Number two was the Irish Assassin because with that one I discovered men weren’t the only ones who could fire from their sex.

  And the third I nicknamed The Final Chapter.

  Because this was it. I needed to either make my move and go after him or stop fantasizing about him, as unlikely as that would be to actually do.

  Why? Because Gavin isn’t just one of the many men from the tough streets of Southie. He was a man amongst men and the only man I ever wanted.

  And as I’ve grown into my love of journalism, and spent so much time dreaming and daydreaming about him, I know there’s something there he’s not sharing. A secret too big to share.

  And I have to know. To let him know that no matter what I’m here for him.

  Call me crazy but I think it’s why he’s got the reputation as a bad boy and plays the roll of the villain so perfectly.

  I know it’s just a game. I know he’s too smart for those other guys. And I know there’s something inside him he’s not sharing with anyone else.

  Something that drives him. And one day I want him to drive his hips right into me and make a baby with me as we wash away whatever sadness is in his past and fill it with joy as we start our own life together.

  But before today the chances of that happening were nearly nil.

  But after today? Improving. Fast.

  And I’ve spent the last four years plotting, planning, and preparing for this moment.

  I took an internship under Dan Shaughnessy in the Boston Globe’s world famous sports desk. I worked my tail off and that’s how I eventually landed the position I have now, although I have a different boss now.

  But the Boston Globe wasn’t enough for me during undergrad. It was a means to an end. The Boston Globe name gave a wet behind the ears journalist credibility which also got me work fact-checking with world famous MMA fighting announcer Joe Rogan on his award winning Joe Rogan Experience Podcast. And although I never made it out to California where he films and records the podcast, I was able to form relationships with other members in the fight game like Canadian MMA reporting legends Ariel Helwani and Robin Black which then led me to work with American Brett Okamoto who covers all things MMA for ESPN.

  Which got me face time on WCVB-TV, Channel 5, in Boston as I used the skills Robin Black taught me to break down a fight, and the delivery styles of Ariel and Brett to help translate Robin’s way with specifics and psychology to a larger audience.

  And now here I am, one of the few, respected woman journalists within the MMA.

  And I never had to rely on my brother’s connection to Gavin to get here. I earned it fair and square.

  And not only did I earn it, nobody even knows about my connection to Gavin, nor is there any proof.

  Gavin is a bit of a recluse. He’s beyond private and very careful about who he allows into his tight circle which means there are no pictures of us together, and even if there were I was just a kid at the time and likely wouldn’t be recognizable.

  But I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m not embarrassed to say I’m a hunter just like him.

  We’re two of a kind. But while he meticulously hunts the most dangerous men in the world for the simple purpose of destroying them in split seconds, I hunt him with the hopes that one day he won’t hurt me by breaking my heart, but instead realize just how much alike we are.

  And today was that split second I’ve been waiting for my entire life.

  I take a deep breath and click on the WEEI 93.7 FM radio app on my phone. It’s one of the most, if not the most, famous sports radio station in the world.

  I need to unwind a bit, feeling my heart is still beating way to fast from what happened at the press conference.

  If it’s anything like most days they’ll talking about Tom Brady, the Boston Red Sox, or even the Bruins hockey team, whose season just started.

  “Do we know who she is?” the first announcer says.

  “No clue. We’ve got a man inside the TD Garden who pulled the surveillance footage but we don’t have a clean look at her face.”

  “So the world’s premier fighter, MMA, boxing, or otherwise, has a crush on some woman, which was revealed in front of a gathering of literally hundreds of journalists who are supposed to know every detail of the guys existence, and no one seems to know who she is?”

  “Well, that’s the point. It’s not some woman, it’s Gavin’s woman.”

  “And we all know that what Gavin wants, Gavin gets.”

  “I’m sure just like as with everything in his life he’ll set his mind to it and get it.”

  “Oh he’ll get her all right. The only question is what if someone else doesn’t get to her first?”

  “Come again?”

  “Hassan’s manager, Abad, has terrorist ties and apparently became a NYPD and FBI informant, but was actually a double agent trying to feed them bad information, or no information at all.”

  “Whoa. You heard it here first people.”

  “And not only that but apparently he abandoned his son and owes over fifty thousand dollars in back child support to the child’s mother.”

  “And we all know how much McGregor values loyalty and honor.”

  “He’s an Irishman from Southie. That goes unsaid as it’s how we do things here.”

  “True, but McGregor takes it to the extreme.”

  “He takes everything to the extreme.”

  “Well, that young lady better take extreme precautions with her identity if the opposing camp’s team finds out who knows what they might try.”

  “Violence towards women makes me sick.”

  “Disgusting. I agree. Even our famous mobsters from here like Whitey Bulger would do no harm to a man if his wife or kids were present.”

  “But with these other guys?”

  “It might be real or it might just be a tactic to get inside McGregor’s head.”

  “No one gets inside McGregor’s head. He’s the one that gets inside theirs.”

  “Well we’re going to see over the next two weeks.”

  “Let’s just hope we see the face of this lady the entire city is looking for.”

  “Or for her safety…maybe not.”

  I close the app and set my phone on the table in front of me.

  The same table that’s littered with the famous Rizzoli and Isles books, which are set in Boston. And every book ever written by Southie born Dennis Lehane, who penned Mystic River, Gone, Baby, Gone, Live by Night and wrote for The Wire and Boardwalk Empire.

  Boston University's College of Communication boasts twenty-four Pulitzer Prize winners. I even hoped to become one myself one day.

  The last thing I need is to be written about one, or Dennis Lehane or Tess Gerritsen, as a story that wa
s “ripped from the headlines” if something happens.

  When I walked into that press conference today I wanted to make things more personal between Gavin and I.

  And I did.

  But I very apparently made things more personal between Gavin and Hassan, and his manager Abad.

  And that’s the last thing I wanted for me, or for Gavin.

  Because all I ever wanted was him, but apparently I went and messed up my one shot for that before I ever really even got it.

  CHAPTER 3

  Gavin

  I tip back my glass of Proper 12 whiskey neat. No way I’m spoiling the spicy flavor with ice. While most brands might taste like toffee, coffee, caramel or even anise, I wanted to do something different, as I always do in life.

  Like today.

  But today she was the one who reminded me, not that I needed it, that she’s different from all the rest.

  I’ve traveled all over this world and seen all kinds of girls and none can hold a candle to her.

  And no matter what country I find myself fighting in, or what secluded place I go to train, she’s never away from me.

  She’s always in my head…in my mind…and if I’m being honest within myself, in my heart.

  Yeah, there’s no point in denying it. Why would I?

  I first started fighting for other reasons, but now I do it for one reason and one reason only.

  Her.

  A few more fights and I’m out of this game. I’m already thirty and I’ve made a boatload of money.

  And the best part is I’ve never been injured.

  It’s time to walk away soon, and start something new…with her.

  That’s one of the reasons I bought this house in Brookline. It’s the rich part of Boston, not that I’ve forgotten my roots. I still have places in Southie, and I’m not afraid to walk those streets any time of the day or night, but I need a place where we can go away from all the bright lights and just be together. Just the two of us.

  But no one knows about my plan but me, even though I tipped my hand earlier today.

  She does that to me…makes me lose control. Hell, I lose control in the ring sometimes just thinking about her. How was I supposed to act when she actually showed up like that?

  I’m a man who knows what he wants and I want her, but I have to stay away, even though I know one day we’ll be together.

  But I wasn’t expecting it this soon, but now that I laid eyes on her again I know I can’t waste anymore time.

  And speaking of waste, my manager said I wasted that entire press conference today. He told me creating tremendous hype and driving my opponent crazy is my thing. I’m known for it. It’s how I win the fight before I ever step into the ring.

  But today? My wrestling boots were made for walking because after I said, “her,” I walked right out of that press conference.

  Now all the attention is off the fight and on her.

  My manager thinks I missed my chance to really destroy Hassan today, even though I already told him he’s a goner. Mentally so now. Physically the first minute of our match.

  I tip back my drink again and just think of her, my cock growing harder by the second.

  Whoever came up with the term whiskey dick never laid eyes on my woman, nor will they.

  I’ll never let anyone near her, not even let so much as a finger on her. She’s mine and mine alone.

  And the thought of her has my rod throbbing with pain and pushing the grey sweatpant shorts I’m lounging in straight up to the ceiling making them look more like a tent than clothing.

  As I fantasize of “clothing” her naked body with nothing more than my kisses.

  Taking my time too. Getting in there and exploring every little twist…every little turn…and every little crease.

  Especially the one I want most.

  That sweet pussy of hers that I know she’s been saving just for me.

  But it’s a two-way street, because I haven’t ever been with a woman in my entire thirty years. Hell, I haven’t even fantasized about another.

  I’ve shot thousands of loads, and I mean thousands, to the thought of her.

  Talk about a waste of good seed.

  We could have already started a family by now. Had a couple little Gavin Juniors running around and some Gracie Juniors too.

  And soon we will. Very, very soon.

  But I had to wait first. To let her finish college. To let her pursue her dream.

  And now that she has it’s time to go and get what’s mine.

  Her.

  I tried to deny myself. I tried to let her go off to college and meet a safe guy. Someone with a nice house in the suburbs who wants nothing more than two point five kids and a white picket fence with her. Someone named Peter, or something, who mows the lawn every Saturday morning at nine o’clock sharp. “Don’t want to disturb the neighbors,” is what he would say, but he’d never say the things, whisper the things, into her ear that’d make her purr like a kitten.

  Yeah, I gave her a shot at the kind of guy who’s home every weeknight from Monday to Friday at 5:30 sharp for the rest of his life to eat the dinner she prepared. The guy who never misses a kids soccer game, even though he doesn’t have an athletic bone in his body.

  But what did she do?

  She came looking for me.

  I gave her a chance and she chose me.

  Damn right she did.

  Because I’m nowhere near safe.

  Home every night at 5:30 after getting off work? What’s that? How about fifty-three countries visited in our first ten years together as a couple. That sounds about right, five and a half per year.

  Make her moan my name in Monaco. Make her scream in Seville. Make her cry out in pleasure in Paris.

  And that’s just Western Europe.

  Eat her sweet pussy in Australia. Bury my cock in her in Canada. Feel her from the inside in England.

  And of course look so deep into her eyes in Ireland that I can see her soul and she can see mine.

  I want to see this entire world with her, and our family.

  I take another sip and feel the pain in my balls which are already pulled up high ready to fire.

  Fuck I could come in my shorts like a horny high school senior just thinking of all the things I want to do to her.

  But first I have to find her, and find a way to tell her brother my plans.

  Let him know this is real. Let him know that I don’t just want him as a brother as in the way we refer to each other, but as a brother-in-law.

  Tell him I couldn’t help myself. Try and tell him this was beyond my control. Show him that she was put on this earth just for me.

  And show her for the rest of our time on this beautiful earth that she means everything to me.

  But first I have to show her I’m playing for keeps…forever.

  CHAPTER 4

  Gracie

  The next afternoon

  I spent all of last night watching the highlights of Gavin’s press conference from the day before to prepare my story for submission today.

  And then I proceeded to lie in bed and imagine ways this professional fighter could submit me.

  His body on top of mine as I experienced my first time with the only man I’ve ever wanted. But I don’t know if “experience” is the right word, because I’m not planning on experiencing that part of life with anyone else. Ever.

  Our first lovemaking session. The first of many.

  And once I got the semantics straight in my head I could not fall asleep for the life of me…as I dreamed of him putting a life inside my stomach and nine months later celebrating our creation. Together.

  But somehow I managed to get my story submitted and approved. Luckily my boss was still on cloud nine from the prior day at the spa so she didn’t think to check the source of the audio files I presented, which I pulled from the Associated Press news wire that journalists rely on.

  I expect she thought they were my own, and I never had to own up
to the fact that they weren’t.

  But Gavin is a quote machine, and it’s not exactly expected that all the media present can get close enough to him to get some off the cuff comments, especially considering everything he says is off the cuff.