Page 1 of Bound by Desire
ChapterOne
Sweat.
Heat.
Adrenaline.
The noise in the background comes through in a hushed rush as my mind zeroes in on the battleathand.
The fist swings toward me with a powerful momentum, only missing my face by an inch. With a reflexive uppercut and using his downward momentum, I hit, and the man falls hard onto the canvas, dazed for a moment. That’s his secondmistake.
The first: getting in the cagewithme.
Before he can get his equilibrium back, I’m on him, flipping him over and straddling his chest with enough weight to keep him down. I connect my fist repeatedly with his face, which he tries to shield with his arms. I just maneuver around him. Each move he has, Icounter.
Quick andprecise.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as the roar of the crowd only getslouder.
The man’s blood coats my tape-covered hands as I make contact with his eyes, his lip, and his nose. Over and over, Ipoundaway.
There are norules.
There are no time-outs like the big boys get. No, this is down and dirty, no holds barred fighting. Only way I’m stopping is if the fucker passes out, taps out, or is dead. I don’t give a shit which way it happens. All that matters is that it will happen with me takingthewin.
My chest is tight, my breathing steady, and my mind is clear. This is what I crave. WhatIneed.
He tries to maneuver his legs to wrap around my neck, but fails because he’s not fast enough. For that, I pound him several times in thetemple.
Once his head begins to bounce, the “ref,” as we call him, taps the asshole out now that he’s unconscious. Only then do I rise, but not before spitting on the man at my feet. Motherfucker had a hard-on to get in the cage with me for weeks. Now that he’s had his chance, his boys can pick up his sorry ass offthemat.
“Winner is … Mastermind!” The ref calls out my fight name as the spectatorsgowild.
I’m not into that hands in the air bullshit some of these fuckers do. No, I’m more of a give me my fucking money so I can getlaidman.
I walk to the entrance of the cage, and Ray opens the doorforme.
“Fuck yeah,” he says as I step out, handing me a bottle of water and a rag to wipe off the blood and sweat coatingmyface.
“Blonde,” I order as if the world is my motherfucking McDonald’s and a woman is just a value meal number. They all are. Holes to sink into to find release. They want to be that, I’ll treat themlikeit.
The massive crowd parts as I walk through, no doubt remembering the last time a fucker patted me on the back after a win. His hand ended up broken. He’s lucky I left it attached tohisbody.
Ray falls in step behind me, no doubt grabbing a woman as we move. After a fight, my cock is rock-hard and in need of the release I just gave my mind to the battle. The women around here all want it. If I looked any one of them in the eye, they’d be putty in my hands. It’s the thrill of fucking someone who walked out of the cage. They’re adrenaline junkies, and their rush is putting out. There’s no time for games for them or myself. After a fight, I like to fuck andgetout.
I bang on the rickety old door and open it, not waiting. Ricko moves away from the window, where he watched me win the fight. He does this every single time I’m in the cage, his eagle eyesonme.
“Deacon,nice.”
I’m not here for chitchat. I’m here to get paid. “Money.”
He pushes away from the window and moves around to the desk. “Always a man of few words.” He pulls out an envelope from the drawer, holding it outtome.
I take it, open it, and count the bills quickly, then turn toward the door, needing nothing morefromhim.
One thing I give the man credit for is that he pays me damn well to show up here and kick some ass. It’s a bonus because needing to pound something into the ground is what I crave and what keeps my demonsatbay.
“Deacon,” hecallsout.
