Defeating the Odds Read online

  Subject: Friendly Support System

  Message:

  My name is Damon. I am part of the Friendly Support System. I’m supposed to tell you that you can contact me when you need someone impartial to talk to. But I will not be discussing my problems and feelings with a complete stranger.

  Up to you if you want to respond.

  Damon

  I click the send button and close the lid. Now I am ready for a run.

  Clattering rips me away from the sexy as fuck dream I was having. What the hell is that noise? I scrub my hands over my face, trying to shake the sleep away. Not that I really want to. God, that dream was so good. I was in a hotel room, fucking Gerard Butler over the back of a large couch. I was about to come as well. I lift the thin sheet off my naked body and see my cock, hard as steel and looking angry as fuck. Yeah, man, I hear you. I take it he is just as pissed as me that our dream got interrupted.

  I ignore the noise that is going on out in the hallway and lower my hand to my raging hard-on. Pre-cum leaks from the tip and I rub my thumb over it, using it as lubrication. I moan as I slowly pump my dick. The images of sliding my dick into a perfectly toned arse, its hole strangling my cock, flash through my mind. God, I miss the feel of a real person fucking me back.

  My breathing becomes heavy and my pants fill the room. My hand picks up speed as my balls tighten with my impending orgasm. “Shit,” I pant into the room. I grab and play with my balls with my free hand. I massage them before dipping my finger into my arse, adding that little extra pressure. I slow down the pace on my dick and match it with the finger in my arse.

  This is what I fucking love: the feel of having my arse filled. I love to top, but I love to bottom also. I know some men only like one, but I am a giver and a taker. The feel of a man’s arse gripping my cock as I pound into him, and the feel of a man slamming into me, gets me going. The tingle at the base of my spine moves as I increase the pace of my hands, knowing I will be coming pretty damned soon.

  Images of men fucking flash through my head as my orgasm hits me. “Oh fuck,” I growl into the space of my room. I arch my neck, digging my head in the pillow beneath me. My cum spurts across my abs in big threads. I even hit my chest and shoulder with some. It has been a long time since I last fucked but damn, I just came hard. I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing down. I lay in bed, panting and letting the climax run through my body. Fuck me, I need a man - a real man. I am a cuddler, which is one of the reasons why I kept Elliott around. He loves to cuddle after we fuck, and he also respects my reasons to keep my sexuality quiet. A knock on my door startles me and my gaze snaps to the mess on my stomach. I jump from the bed and walk over to the bathroom while calling out to the person outside my door.

  “Yeah?”

  “Ford, you need to come out and have some breakfast. They will stop serving soon,” Spencer yells through the door. My body shudders from his voice and very filthy thoughts flit through my head of me taking him from behind. I remember him telling me his brother is gay and my thoughts change to a younger version of Spencer. I chuckle to myself. Damn, I need to get laid big time.

  “Yeah, let me shower first and I will be right out, man.” I answer.

  “Don’t be long. And Ford…”

  “Yeah?” I reply.

  “You’ve got an email,” he answers, and I hear him walk away. Email? What the fuck? Oh, shit, the email buddy system thingy that the doc told me about yesterday. I can’t believe I have to take part in this shit. I don’t have a fucking problem. Just like that, my high is gone from my body, despite the evidence still sticking to my skin. I walk into my bathroom and start the shower. I look at myself in the mirror and sigh. I look like shit. I’m really pissed that I am here, but what choice did I have? I was forced to come here when there is no problem to fucking solve.

  I walk into the nearly empty dining room and grab some breakfast. I see Cleo sitting by herself by the window and pick up my breakfast tray before walking over to sit with her. Seeing her so sad makes my chest ache. My protective side sits up and takes notice.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I say, and take the seat next to her. Her head snaps in my direction, her eyes wide with fear. Fuck me. I scared the shit out of her.

  “Hey, it’s just me. Cleo, calm down, darling.” I place my tray on the table and crouch down in front of her. If I don’t stop her heavy breathing she will pass the fuck out. “Hey, Cleo, darling, look at me. See me,” I tell her. I take her hands and rub my thumbs over her knuckles. It takes a minute or two, but her breathing regulates. “You okay now?” I ask softly. Fuck me, this girl has been through some shit. I can see the pain in her eyes. A little smile crosses her face.

  “I’m good, Ford. Thank you. You startled me, that’s all.” I nod my head and plant my arse on the chair.

  “Good, because you just scared the bejesus out of me, woman.” That makes her giggle and the ache in my chest lifts a little.

  “Sorry.”

  I take a bite of my bacon and sausage sandwich and wash it down with some orange juice. Cleo is back to gazing out the window, lost in her own head. My mind spins, thinking of all the shitty things she could have been put through. Even though I barely know this girl, she has got under my skin. I leave her to her thoughts and eat my food, which is surprisingly nice here. I think of how disappointed my brother and coach are in me and can’t figure out why. Yeah, I gamble. Who doesn’t? So, I lost a few bets. I had the money to do it. Okay, maybe now I don’t have so much to throw away. But I’d only bet what I had, until I didn’t.

  Fuck.

  I just like the thrill of it. So why should I stop? Everyone likes a bit of excitement in their lives.

  I pull Cleo into a conversation, just to distract her. She’d told me that she lives to draw and would love to become a tattoo artist one day. Maybe I will help her out with that. My tattoo artists are pretty fucking wicked. The boys from Castle Ink do my ink. I won’t let anyone except Dex and Jay tattoo me.

  I follow Cleo out of the dining room and we say goodbye before she walks to the drawing room and I head towards my room. I hope she will find her peace one day. Like many here, they all have their issues, but they have support here and maybe out there, like me, family and friends are vital in someone's recovery. I walk into my room and close the door behind me. I see the clinic’s laptop sitting on the desk and remember Spencer telling me that I have an email. Lifting the laptop off the desk, I sit on my bed and power the thing up. Using my details, I log in to my account and see that I do, in fact, have an email from the buddy system. This will be a useless thing to take part in, but the doc said it was mandatory, so I will have to fucking do it. I click on the little white envelope and watch as the email loads. Once it’s loaded, I hit the reply button and take deep breath. He seems like a decent guy but time will tell. Please, God, let this person be fucking sane.

  From: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: Friendly Support System

  Message:

  Hey, Damon. My name is Ford. I have to agree with you there, mate. I really don’t wanna talk about my personal shit with some random bloke. But yeah, I guess I am here if you wanna talk some time. We have to start somewhere, and since we are being forced into this. I'll go first.

  I am in for gambling. What are you in for?

  Ball is in your court.

  Ford.

  I hit send and leave the page open. I click the tab to open another page to see how my boys did today. My knee bounces as the page loads and I click on my team’s name. I see the result and notice they are actually playing now. They are winning two-one against a team we smashed last season. I leave the laptop open and run to the common room, where I see Spencer is already watching the game on the big TV on the wall. He smiles at me as I come to a screeching stop in the room. I strut over, acting all cool, calm and collective and take a seat next to him. My boys are looking fucking amazing. Passing and keeping possessi
on of the ball.

  “How are they doing?” I ask Spencer, dying to know. My knee bounces on its own accord again. Damn, I do have a nervous tick.

  “They are playing pretty damn good, man. I was wondering how long it would take you to come here and watch the game.” He laughs and I shake my head. I feel so anxious that I am missing the game. I fucking hate not playing. A ball of energy builds inside me. Numbers start flashing in my head. I wonder what the odds are on today’s games. I bet the odds are in favour of my team today. We are playing a lower table team.

  “I should be there with them. Fucking hell.”

  “Yeah, you should, Ford. But you need to sort yourself out first. I can see the numbers crunching in your head, mate. You can’t fool me.”

  “Fuck off, Spence. I don't have a fucking problem. I just like the thrill of it. I don't need to place a bet.” I am only half lying. Fucking shit. Spencer chuckles next to me but I ignore the good-looking bastard. He just lost some brownie points with me. Fucker.

  Cleo comes in and sits next to me, offering me a sad smile. She must see that I am missing my team, missing playing.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I say to her, and a faint blush covers her cheeks.

  “Hi. They are winning at least,” she states, and I nod. We sit and watch the game, and my team wins by three goals to one. I am fucking landed that they won, but gutted I wasn’t there to celebrate with them. The urge to put a bet on is itching at my skin. Spencer’s eyes narrow and I get the feeling he can see what I am thinking and feeling. I stand and lean over to kiss the top of Cleo’s head. She tenses, but only for a second, and smiles up at me.

  “Stay, beautiful.”

  “I’m not beautiful, Ford,” she whispers. I growl deep in my throat, praying I don’t scare her.

  “You are fucking beautiful. And I wish I could kill the fucker that hurt you. Me and you, beautiful, we are gonna take over the world. You just wait and see.” I wink at her and walk back to my room to check if this Damon guy has messaged back.

  Sam and I have been training in the gym for the last thirty minutes. She laughs when she sees me doing high kicks and mountain climbers.

  “What are you laughing at, pretty girl?” I puff as I stand up straight and grab a bottle of water.

  “I thought you MMA fighters were meant to be mean and scary.”

  “I am mean and scary. You said you saw my last fight.”

  “So what’s with the mountain climber exercises?”

  “It’s not all about weight training and using punch bags. Our punches come from our core muscles.” I lift my t-shirt up to show her my rock-hard stomach. I place her hand on my skin and she complains about me being sweaty. I laugh it off and throw a right hook in the air. “Did you feel the way my stomach contracted?” She nods her head. “That’s why we need core strength too.”

  “Ah, I get it.” She glances at the clock on the wall.

  “You got somewhere to be?”

  “Yeah.” She sighs. “Mum is coming in for a session today. I was contemplating whether to tell her I need a new coach.”

  “If I get banned from fighting, I’ll be your coach.”

  “Shut up. You’re not going to get banned, and I’ll be in the front row of your next fight. But I want a free seat.” She winks at me.

  “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” I kiss her on the cheek as I pass her by. I am drawn to this girl. I want to protect her.

  “Damon!” Will shouts from the door to the gym. I give him a chin lift, waiting for his response. “Yoga starts in ten minutes.”

  “I don’t see how yoga is going to sort my problems out,” I moan under my breath.

  “It’s actually really calming,” Sam pipes in.

  “Can you really see me doing yoga? I’m six foot and weigh two hundred and twenty four pounds.”

  “You’ll enjoy it. See you later for group therapy.” She waves at me as she rushes out the door.

  I walk casually over to Will and notice the way he is checking me out. I knew he wanted me.

  “Two doors down is the yoga room. Wipe your sweat off, grab a mat and do as you’re told.”

  “Yes, sir.” I chuckle.

  Well, that was a complete waste of time. I couldn’t get my body into most of the positions, which just frustrated me more. I wasn’t relaxed at all, and now I feel like I need to do another proper workout to release this frustration.

  “Well done, everyone. Great class. Shower up and lunch will be served in thirty minutes,” Zara the yoga teacher explains. She is pretty enough, with her slim body and her dark hair tied up. “Damon, can I have a word?” she calls out before I can disappear.

  I stand in front of her and wait for her to talk.

  “How did you find the class?” She uses a towel to wipe the sweat off her forehead and chest. How the hell was she sweating? This yoga shit can’t be classed as a workout. I’m bone dry.

  “A waste of time.”

  “Oh really? Why’s that?”

  “It frustrated me. How the hell am I supposed to get my bulky frame into those sorts of positions? It was like a page out of the bloody Karma Sutra.”

  “You’ll get there. It’ll just take time.”

  “I don’t think yoga is good for me. It’s going to bring my temper up not settle it down.”

  “Give one more class a go and then we can discuss it. Deal?” She holds her hand out for me and I grip it in mine.

  “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

  I grab my towel and sling it over my shoulder, before rushing out of the class and up to the haven of my room.

  I grab a quick shower and throw on some clean clothes before hightailing it to the common room for some food. All I had eaten today was a breakfast smoothie and a protein shake.

  I peruse through all the food that has been laid out and grab some grilled chicken, a healthy portion of salad and a plateful of veggies. I glance around the room to find Sam sitting in the corner with her head resting on her knees.

  “Has Sam eaten?” I ask Will as he comes up to the food table and starts loading up a plate.

  “No. She’s been quiet since her meeting with her mum.” He looks around to make sure no one can hear us. “I really shouldn’t have told you that, but she seems to open up to you.”

  “Thanks, man.” I slap him on the shoulder before placing my plate at the end of the table and loading up another.

  I carry both plates over to where she is sitting.

  “Here,” I say, shoving a plate and cutlery in front of her.

  “I’m not hungry,” she whispers.

  “You gotta eat.” I sit down next to her on the sofa and start eating. I am starving, and this food isn’t too bad at all. If only I could get some coffee, then I’d be happy.

  “Why do you care?” I shrug my shoulders at her. “My mother doesn’t even care about me and I came out of her. So why would you care?”

  “Because I see a great girl, with great potential. Have you talked to your boyfriend?” She shakes her head. “Maybe you should.”

  “We gotta do that pen pal shit thing today, remember? I’ll shoot him another email.”

  I groaned when she’d said we had to see if our buddy had responded.

  “Have you spoken to your buddy again?” I ask as I shovel some salad into my mouth.

  “Yeah, she responded straight away. We’ve emailed about six or seven times now. She’s great, really friendly.”

  “Shit, was I supposed to check my email before now?”

  “You didn’t have to. But if this whole buddy thing works to help her out, I’m willing to give it a shot.”

  “Now you’ve made me feel bad that I don’t give a shit one way or another about the guy I was given.”

  She just smiles at me, looking all innocent.

  “Wanna talk about what happened with your mum?”

  She shakes her head. “That’s what the buddy system is for.”

  “So if I email you, you’ll tell me?” I chuckle.
>
  “Concentrate on trying to help out your guy.”

  My guy. Is that what he is now? I wonder if I can get a picture. I wonder if he’s hot.

  Once my plate is empty I climb to my feet and grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Yo, Sam.” As she looks up at me, I fling her a bottle of water.

  “Thanks, idiot. I almost dropped my plate.” She shakes her head in annoyance.

  I stroll over to the kitchen and place my plate and cutlery in the dishwasher. Then I grab a laptop for me and Sam and head back over to where she’s sitting.

  “You know, I can do things for myself,” she snaps as I place the laptop on the arm of the sofa next to her.

  “Email your boyfriend. Even better, take the laptop to your room and Skype him.”

  “Am I allowed to do that?” she asks, sitting forward and placing her feet to the floor.

  “If I had a hot guy at home waiting for me, I’d be on there every night, making sure I didn’t make a mess on the keyboard.” I wink at her.

  “Ewww, gross.” She smiles at me before leaving her nearly empty plate behind, grabbing the laptop and running out of the room.

  Once my email loads I see I have one new message waiting from Wood Lake Recovery Centre.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I mutter.

  From: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: Friendly Support System

  Message:

  Hey, Damon. My name is Ford. I have to agree with you there, mate. I really don’t wanna talk about my personal shit with some random bloke. But yeah, I guess I am here if you wanna talk some time. We have to start somewhere and since we are being forced into this. I'll go first.