Page 7 of The Monster and the Masochist

Come on, Andrea. You’re making this too easy.

Her face contorted in fury as she threw herself at me, and I felt a pang of annoyance at how predictable her next few moves were.

I wanted her to hit me.

As much as I wanted to win, I also wanted the pain.

I needed it.

The only thing worse than losing was making it through an entire fight without taking a single hit.

Otherwise, what was the point?

So, when she threw her shoulder back, and I knew she was coming in for a left cross, I intentionally hesitated, bracing myself for the sweet, bone-crunching rush of agony that I knew was coming as her fist connected with my jaw.

Fuck yes.

My face exploded in agony, and I spat out a mouthful of blood from where the inside of my cheek sliced open on my mouth guard.

“What the fuck was that!” Coach shouted, his rage at my misstep palpable. “You should have seen that coming from a mile away!”

“Fuck, Muscles! Amateur shit!” Cal barked, and I chuckled, unable to keep myself from smiling at my two adorably frustrated cheerleaders.

They didn’t have anything to worry about.

Andrea looked smug and pleased with herself, having no idea I’d basically fed her that punch for free.

I’d gotten what I wanted; now it was time to collect my money, find a horny groupie, and go home to celebrate.

It took two crosses, a jab, and a swift uppercut for me to knock Andrea out.

She was KO’d before she even hit the ground, and I was dizzy with adrenaline and the sweet, sweet sting of pain as the bell rang again, signaling my victory.

Coach was in the ring suddenly, holding my hand up and cheering along with the rush of a hundred or so gangsters and gambling addicts that made up the crowd.

Cal was jumping up and down, waving his foam finger like a maniac, and I couldn’t stop laughing.

I spit out another mouthful of blood and grinned, feeling like I’d just made the world my bitch.

I was having a hard time focusing on Coach’s recap of the fight with Sienna straddling my thigh. She was gorgeous–a little trashy for my taste–but fuck… her body was perfect. I couldn’t wait to get her back home and bury my face between her thighs.

“You did soooo good, Theo, that was sooo hot,” she crooned, grinding herself intentionally on my lap as she pressed an ice pack to my cheek.

She was one of the pushier fight bunnies, and she’d muscled her way into the gritty, concrete changeroom after the fight.

I’d allowed it, because I was horny and high on adrenaline. It made it easier if I didn’t have to go out hunting for someone to wind down with at some sort of after-party.

“Theodora, focus!” Jerry snapped, as I slid my hands up Sienna’s exposed waist, staring as the muscles in her abdomen contracted beneath the brush of my thumbs.

“I’m listening, I’m listening,” I muttered, leaning forward to nip and kiss at Sienna’s collarbone, causing her to giggle.

Jerry made a frustrated sound, and I didn’t need to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes.

“No, you’re not, and you should be. What happened in the third round? There was no reason Andrea should have been able to land that cross.”

“Mmm, I dunno, slipped up, I guess.”

“You can’t be making mistakes like that when you take on the Russian,” he snarled.