Spencer: Bad Boy MMA Cage Fighter : Bad Boy Fights The Fight Of His Life For His Girl! (An MMA Fight by P.T. Macias (distant reading TXT) 📕

“Cool, Dude, here’s the address to the condo and the keys to the SUV for you to drive Ms. Ford, but most importantly, don’t allow Ms. Ford out of your sight. Call me if you need anything,” Ryan says, smirking.

“Right,” I say, nodding, entering the address and cell number, saving it in my cell; I look at Ryan taking the key from his desk, pushing off the chair.

“Okay, get going,” Ryan says, clapping his hands.

I walk out of the security office, grinding my molars.

Fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck!

This spoiled rich bitch is going to be trouble; I can feel it.

I reach the black SUV, pressing the key fob to open the door, sliding onto the black leather seat, turning on the SUV. I pull out my cell to enter Ms. Ford’s home address into the GPS. I place my cell phone in the holder, sigh, pulling out of the parking space. I drive down the aisle, turning to exit the parking garage. I turn left, then I merge onto the freeway. It takes me thirty minutes to exit onto the street.

I pull into the parking lot of the tall, expensive condo complex. I park, turning off the SUV, opening the door. I jump out, looking around the garage, making sure nobody has followed me or is waiting.

Thank fuck it’s all clear.

I walk over to the front door, pressing the keypad to open the front door. The door opens, I step inside the impressive condo, looking around.

Fuck, this condo is enormous.

Okay, now I’ll wait until Ms. Ford wakes up.

I’ll get some coffee while I wait.

I walk down the hallway, looking for the kitchen. I walk into the kitchen, looking around at the fancy appliances and the spotless house kitchen.

Fuck!

I see the cook cooking some bacon.

“Hi, that smells delicious! Is it possible to get a cup of coffee?” I say, smiling at the cook flashing my dimples.

The cook looks up; her eyes widened when she sees me, smiling, nods waving her hand.

“Of course, let me get the cup of coffee for you. I’m Ivy, the cook. I’ve never seen you before,” Ivy says, looking up at me.

I stand at the island, grinning, placing my big hands on the kitchen countertop.

“I’m Spencer, I’m Ms. Ford’s security guard,” I say, scrubbing my face.

“Ah, that’s good,” Ivy says, handing me the cup of coffee.

I take the hot cup of coffee, inhaling deeply.

Fucking yes. I love coffee!

I take a drink, closing my eyes enjoying the expensive coffee. Yeah, I miss having freshly ground coffee.

Yeah, this coffee hits the spot.

I open my eyes, setting my cup on the countertop.

“I need to locate her room so I can guard her. Ivy, could you be so kind as to give me an idea of how to get there,” I say, grabbing the coffee cup in my hands?

“Sure, just walk down the hall, turn right, and it’s the last door on the right,” Ivy says cheerfully.

“Thanks, Ivy,” I say, setting the empty coffee cup on the counter.

“No problem, I’ll bring Dior her breakfast in a few minutes,” Ivy says, turning to flip the bacon.

I walk down the hallway, turning right, and I walk to the last door looking around. I stand in front of the door, looking straight ahead, sliding my hands into my pants pocket.

Okay.

I can’t believe that I’m going to be guarding someone that looks like heaven, she’s beautiful, hot, but she’s trouble.

I scrub my face, shaking my head inhaling deeply.

How in the fuck did I get into this dangerous job?

Fuck!

Yeah, I mean all kinds of danger.

I’m going to knock and see if she’s okay. I might as well introduce myself.

I knock on the door waiting for Ms. Ford to open.

“Come in, Ivy. Good morning, please set the tray on the table,” Dior says, opening the door.

I stand at the open door, watching her walk to what appears to be the bathroom, waving her hand.

Fuckingtastic.

Dior is too much.

I lean against the door crossing my arms, staring at her long golden-brown hair sway across her perfect heart-shaped ass. Each step that Dior takes mesmerizes, driving me insane.

I stare at the soft clinging material covering her firm breasts, zooming in at her extended nipples, sending blood to my aching flesh.

Fuck!

“Hmm . . . . hey, I’m Spencer, your guard,” I say, in a low, raspy voice, swallowing thickly.

I inhale and exhale, walking further into the bedroom, closing the door.

“What are you doing? Don’t you see that I’m not dressed,” Dior yells, blushing moves her arms, crossing them over her chest.

“You’re dressed; I need to search your room,” I bark, raising my eyebrow.

“I’m not dressed,” she shouts, placing her hands on her hips.

Fuck this!

I have a lot to do, and I can’t get distracted by Diorzella.

I walk around the room, looking at the corners, walking into the bathroom, looking around in every drawer, walking over to the big walk-in closet.

I’m fine. Everything is okay walking out of the closet. I lift my chin at Diorzella as she glares at me

“All clear. Is there somewhere specific you would like to go today? I’ll be waiting outside the door, ready for when you’re ready to start the day.” I say, staring at her.

I walk over to her, standing tall, lowering my eyelids halfway, waiting for her bitchy whining.

I look at her startled face, gazing into her huge turquoise eyes.

Fuck!

I look at her breast push up as she breathes, giving me a fucking hard-on.

Yeah, she’s trouble.

“What do you think that you’re doing? You need to give me some privacy here,” Dior yells, glaring at me. She chews her lower lip crossing her arms under those fantastic breasts tapping her barefoot.

“Dior, we’re going to