As it always did when I saw him in that ring, my heart jerked in my chest almost painfully. Tendrils of excitement and anticipation wove through me, causing sweat to break out between my breasts, along my temples, and down the length of my spine. I was hot, and it had nothing to do with the crush of bodies all around me.
I wasn’t even going to focus on my wet pussy. There was no stopping the arousal that thrummed through me. And shifting on my feet didn’t ease anything. In fact, it made my need worse, pinching my clit between my lips, the pressure from my tightened thighs making the agony all the worse.
I tried to push my needs to the back of my mind. It would do nothing to help me right now but make me miserable. It’s not like I could climb up in that ring, throw myself in Oli’s arms, and beg him to fuck me.
I couldn’t, right?
I shook my head, my face feeling hot as that thought had other dirty images moving through me, ones of us naked, his big, sweaty body pounding into me. And I’d take all of it. I’d take all of him.
Looking around at the people surrounding me, I could see how excited they were and practically feel their adrenaline rushing through their veins.
Bloodthirst. That’s what I witnessed.
They were alive in this room, experiencing the violence that was soon to come, soon to make them higher, drunker.
I rose on my toes to see Oli better. A few people had already clambered in front of me, but there was a big-enough gap between their bodies that it still allowed me to see the ring unobstructed.
I kept getting pushed back and forth as the crowd got more aggressive. The fight hadn’t even started yet, and they were wound up tight. I still had a grip on Bernadette’s hand and could see the wonder and excitement in her eyes as she stared at the ring. She wasn’t looking at Oli but at the other fighter.
Well. Seemed like Bernadette liked coming to these more than I thought.
4
Bryn
I focused on Oli again. His back was to me now, his shoulders so broad, his back so wide and muscular that I felt my entire core tighten painfully. I couldn’t see his face, but I could practically feel how calm and ready he was for this, to win this fight.
My attention was rapt. I was in awe. I always felt like this watching him, holding my breath until it was over, my heart in my throat, my nerves tight. I knew he’d win—he always did—but that didn’t stop the worry from clawing at me from deep in my core.
Oli rolled his head on his neck, cracked his knuckles, and bounced on his feet to loosen himself up. He was poised to strike, like a cobra. Ready. Waiting. About to attack.
“And here we motherfucking go, ladies and gents!” the announcer practically roared through the speakers, and that was it.
The room was pandemonium as people shouted, pushed, shoved, screaming for more violence. I felt how wide my eyes were, felt Bernadette’s hand tighten in mine. But the wave of people moving back and forth was pushing us apart, had my arm stretched out, our fingers starting to disconnect.
She snapped her head in my direction and mouthed something, but I couldn't hear from the crush of noise surrounding us. We’d already talked about where to meet if we got separated, which wasn’t uncalled for at these things. There were just so many people it was better to be safe than sorry and not know where to go or what to do if we got split up.
I focused only on the ring, on the two fighters… on my fighter.
Yeah, I deemed Oli as mine. He didn't know yet, but he would. God, he would tonight.
Watching them move around each other was like watching two lions about to attack, to fight to the death. But Oli was the bigger lion, the stronger one with the sharpest teeth and longest claws. There was no match. None at all.
The fighter started throwing punches, but Oli evaded them easily. He slammed his own fist into the other fighter’s face, his side, the kidneys, anywhere and everywhere. The moves were precise, full of perfection.
They were brutal and beautiful.
Back and forth, they danced, long moments of this almost intimate act, but there was violence, aggression, testosterone right at the surface. Punch. Hit. Kick. There were no rules here. Just fighting. Anything goes. I held my breath more than I breathed, my focus trained on the man I loved, the man I wanted to give myself to tonight.
The other fighter looked tired as hell, but he stayed on his feet and kept blocking Oli’s punches—or trying to, at least.
The flights Oli participated in were so raw, so unhinged, it was like he was another person, his sole focus and intent that of taking down the other guy. And he did it every single time with accuracy and precision.
The other fighter swung out, but his fist connected with the air. I actually gasped, for a moment thinking it would come in contact with Oli. I should have known better.
Oli swung out and hit the other man in the jaw. Blood erupted from the fighter’s mouth, spraying along the mat. Sweat covered Oli’s chest, and his skin was a little redder from the increased blood flow right beneath the surface.
A part of me felt bad for the other fighter. He didn’t stand a chance against Oli, and already he looked like he had his ass handed to him five times over.
Time felt like it slowed as I watched in awe at what was going on right in front of me. Oli was an animal, his movements coordinated, stealthy. Precise. I was wet, ready, needing him so badly I felt crazed from it.
And
