Hello, sorry for the long delay with this update. Warning - Please be aware that this is for adults only! Please remember that this is a work of pure fiction and is not intended to be a reflection of the true character of Jonathan Good – it's simply an interpretation of a fictional Jon Moxley character set in a fictional world. I only own my OC. Thank you to all you who have taken the time to review. Hope you enjoy chapter two. How awesome is it to see Mox doing his thing in AEW and Japan? I'm loving it. He looks so happy and he deserves all the success in the world.

"Tell him there's no problem," I say hurriedly in hushed tones and thrust my safety net of phone and hotel key into Shota's hands. I must be crazy but I've decided I want this man and will take a risk to get what I want. Shota nods gratefully and is clearly relieved. "There is no problem, Master Moxley." He bows to me, then in the direction of Mox and leaves the dojo, closing the double doors behind him.

I'm suddenly aware of how silent the vast room has become. It's so quiet, I can almost hear my heart thumping as it rackets around in my chest. Its rhythm becomes even more erratic as I watch this brooding demi-god swipe the black hood from his head. He has not yet fully turned to face me and I notice that there is a scar about halfway up the back of his shaved skull. His dirty blonde hair is a couple of inches longer on his crown but the short style is counteracted by a heavy stubble on his strong chin which balances out his gorgeous features perfectly

I feel like I should say something to him but 'Hi, nice to meet you' doesn't seem appropriate. From his demeanor I reckon that I should only speak when spoken to. He rolls his shoulders as if readying himself for a fight and slowly turns towards me. I can't prevent my sharp intake of breath as I survey his golden torso. His hoodie is unzipped and as he slowly approaches, he shrugs it off revealing a powerful upper body honed for combat. As it falls to the floor, it's clear that he knows the effect he is having on me. I can tell that because his blue eyes express amusement as I shift from foot to foot and touch my hair for comfort not knowing what to do or say. This is not like me but I am rendered a quivering wreck in his presence and he hasn't even touched me yet.

He stops less than a foot away. The whole room seems to shrink and I am only aware of HIM. I glance up and as his piercing eyes meet mine, I quickly look away to compose myself. His head tilts to one side and he lets out a gruff dismissive sound. A panic that I cannot quell rises and I think I've displeased him already. Not a good move.

His voice breaks the silence. "Look at me," he says. I close my eyes for a second or two and take a slow calming breath. Before I get a chance to do as he asks, his hand encircles my throat and my eyes flash open in shock. "I said look at me," he growls. "When I ask you to do something, you do it immediately. Understand?"

I nod, a thrill shoots through me but a nod is obviously not what he wants either. He's not applying any pressure to my neck yet but the intent is there. His forearm is like granite and the power he has over me is intoxicating. I feel an urge to defy him to see what he will do next. I'm the one who needs to get a grip on the situation. After all, I signed up to this knowing full well what I was getting myself into though maybe I misjudged how hard-edged this guy already was.

"You're not getting this, sweetheart are you? Answer me."

"I understand," I say while finally meeting his intense gaze.

He doesn't release me and I'm glad of that. I want his hands to touch me, even if their intent is to hurt or give pleasure, hopefully both.

"Do you think you can handle this?" he asks. "You look fucking terrified and we're barely getting started.

I square my shoulders and answer him without hesitation. "I can handle you," I say with as much bravado as I can muster.

His response is to let out a laugh, and he increases the pressure on my neck. "That's what I want to hear. I've got my first match in Japan tomorrow and I'm going to win of course but I need to dominate. I need to destroy my opponent."

"No mercy then?" I say breathlessly.

"That's right," he answers. "No mercy. People need to see that I've put all the goofy shit behind me."

"Hot dog carts and shots in the ass?" I say. I've seen the YouTube videos during his time at WWE and he's super talented on the microphone but clearly the material he was expected to deliver was not on his level.

He raises an eyebrow. "Good to know you've done your research."

He releases his grasp on my throat and slowly circles me as we continue to talk. All the time, I'm cautious with him. Taking care with my words to keep giving him what he wants. It's clear he is going to control our session and that suits me fine.

"No wonder you decided to not renew your contract," I say. I'm eager to get started. "Tell me what you want so we can draw out all that pent-up aggression." I already had a pretty good idea, but I wanted to hear his wicked intent from that sexy ass voice.

"You're going to do everything I tell you to do." He stroked his rough hand down my spine and I arched into his touch. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll beg me to stop."

Holy shit, that was what I needed to hear. "But you won't stop, will you?" I say, already knowing the answer. I'm not here to make love with him, I'm here to get fucked – hard – by Jon Moxley. A part of me wonders if he is capable of tenderness but tonight is all about sex not love.

He lets out a gruff noise as he grips my hair hard and buries his lips in my collarbone. "No, I'm not going to fucking stop. Not until I'm done with you."

His voice is slightly muffled and I cry out as his teeth graze my skin. He rips my top away and explores my breasts, nipping and sucking hard. It's just on the right side of painful, sending sparks of excitement shooting downwards. I wish to God that he would kiss me but I get the feeling that I won't get to experience that type of intimacy tonight.

I'm correct to think that as his next move is far from gentlemanly. He drags me by my hair over to the wrestling ring in the centre of the room pushing my upper body under the bottom rope so I am bent over for him. I can tell how much he is enjoying this first encounter as he pushes up against my ass and I feel him, right there, as big and hard as I imagined he would be. I let out a moan at the contact.

You want this dick, bitch?" he snarls.

"Yes," I whimper. I know that is exactly what he wants to hear but he is going to make me wait.

"You're going to have to earn it," he tells me. He slaps my ass at this point. Hard. I squeal and he does it again, then in one swift movement his removes my workout tights and I am naked before him. Though I can't see him at this point as he is standing behind me, I remember that he is wearing just a pair of tracksuit bottoms. His feet already bare. He blankets his long, muscular body on mine and presses my head sideways into the ring canvass. I love the feel of his weight holding me in place and he whispers menacingly in my ear.

"Get on your fucking knees and work for it.