“Seth,” Olivia’s voice filters through my ears over the roar of the crowd and drowns out Darryl and Jackson.

I turn toward her. She’s up on the ring, her slender fingers hooking around the cage, and as soon as my eyes lock with hers, my anxiety floats away.

“You are in control,” she tells me as I step closer to her. “He underestimates you. He thinks you’re a stupid boy who poses no threat.” Her plump, pink lips curl into a sexy, dark smirk—the kind of darkness I only see in her when we’re seconds away from fucking.

“Show him how dangerous you are. You’re stronger than him in every way and I want you to prove it.”

I grip the cage and bring my face closer to hers. Our lips barely graze through the links and if my blood wasn’t already boiling and rushing through my veins, I’m sure it would have pooled in my cock, making it hard for all to see.

“You want me to hurt him?” I ask, desperately wanting her to nod.

Instead, she shakes her head and I feel defiance grow in my chest. Nothing can stop me from putting Don in his place, not even Olivia.

“I want you to destroy him,” she whispers.

Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see the day Olivia would encourage me to beat the shit out of someone. I guess I’ve rubbed off on her in more ways than one. I hook a finger around a cage link, only just managing to catch the collar of her ‘SETH’ shirt. I pull her forward, closing the tiny gap between our lips. I flick my tongue against her bottom lip, but she refuses to open her mouth to me. She’s too shy to kiss on television, how cute. I suck her bottom lip into my mouth and bite down. Like I planned, she opens her mouth with a gasp and allows me a few quick and hungry strokes of her tongue. She pulls back, panting heavily.

“Win for me?”

I smile at her. “With pleasure.”

I face Don with a new passion, the same passion that has driven me to work harder—to give Olivia everything she has ever wanted. I don’t care how pussy I sound. I can’t play indifferent when it comes to her, I never could. I’ll take all of the ‘pussy whipped’ and ‘I can see your vagina’ comments with a wide smile on my face.

Not a second later, the bell rings and I’m out of my corner and in the middle of the ring. Don extends his arm to me, his palm wide and expecting. He is out of his fucking mind if he thinks I’m going to touch him with anything other than my fists. I have no respect for him and he deserves no respect from me. He’s lucky I don’t snap his fucking wrist right this second. I grit my teeth as he pulls his hand back and smiles at me, exposing his red mouthguard. I launch forward, swinging with everything that I have and connecting with his stomach. He stumbles backwards, completely dazed by my abrupt attack. I had no better plan other than ‘destroy him.’ The more I hit him (and when I say hit him, I mean absolutely slam my fists into his stomach), the more I realize he’s no longer moving. His body has stopped reacting to my hands. I hit him again and again but draw no satisfaction from it. Only anger. I stop, completely out of breath and glance around the cage. The arena is empty. We’re alone. I turn back to Don, he’s gone and the figure replacing him is a face I despise just as much.

“Dad?”

I take in his lifelike form—tall, solid, graying hair and angular features… he seems healthy, nothing like the sickly thin man I saw on his deathbed.

“Where is everybody?” he asks, almost smiling as he gestures to the empty seats.

I frown, taking in the abandoned arena. There’s nothing here… not even rubbish. “They were here a second ago.”

“But they’re gone now. What’d you do to scare them off?”

I step toward him but I’m stopped in my tracks as Don appears out of thin air and hits me square in the mouth before disappearing again. I stumble backwards, clenching my mouth as pain radiates through my jaw. I can’t taste my blood, but I can feel it trickling from my mouth. I spit and watch the red blood collide with the clean mat. I hate bleeding.

“You’ve come to torment me?” I snap. Heat floods me, filling my chest with a fury he isn’t going to like when it bursts open and tears me in two.

“I’ve come to level you. You’re getting too full of yourself. You have a high paying job, a big house, cars—even a beautiful wife, but don’t think for a second they’re yours forever.”

Pain slams into my kidneys and I’m thrust to the side. I snap around… but Don is gone. I hear my breathing in my ears as my chest begins to rise and fall rapidly. My temper is getting the best of me… if I’m not careful I’m going to end up punching my own father in the mouth. Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid it for most of my life, but right now he’s dancing dangerously close.

“You know,” I growl, my suddenly bare fingers twitching at my sides. “I’m not as bad as you say I am.”

“Why? Because she told you you’re good?”

I inhale slowly in an effort to calm myself. It works… temporarily at least. “I am good.”

Dad tosses his head back and laughs. “I hate to break it to you, boy, but she is in no position to call anyone good.” I frown. “You think she’s good? She might’ve been once upon a time, before you sank your dirty, spoiled claws into her.”

How fucking dare you! My entire body tightens—my muscles threatening to cramp—and I spring forward before punching my own father in the mouth. It tosses his head to the side, but he recovers quickly. The hit barely causes damage… and it’s a sad realization when you discover you’re more upset about not splitting your father’s lip than acting out and hitting him. I growl until it burns my throat and I try again. Same result. I want to hurt him, damn it! I try again and again until my chest burns and my knuckles ache. Fail… it’s all I ever do when it comes to him. With a heavy exhale, I fall to my knees at his feet.

“What did I ever do to you?” I pant, shaking my head.

I’ve never felt so weak in my life and the sound of my own voice pleading at his feet disappoints me.

“You exist, you poison people, and you have no respect for anyone—take your pick.”

I glance up at him. “The way I am rests squarely on your shoulders. I’m the consequence of your inability to be a decent parent.” My lips begin to pull wider as I look at him. “Mom became an alcoholic, did you know that? She lost her job, she lost everything, and guess who helped her?” I push myself back onto my feet and draw myself to full height. “You remember your good daughter, Maddison? Yeah, well she was stripping for cash in Vegas and guess who helped her out of it? As for Olivia, she was stuck in a dead-end relationship with a guy who treated her like shit. Want to take a shot at guessing who helped her out of that one, too?”

Dad glares at me, his brown eyes feeling like daggers in my flesh.

“That’s right, old man. Me! I helped her and I treat her like the fucking queen that she is. Sure, she likes to get a little naughty, but that doesn’t affect who she is deep down.” I shake my head. “As for Mom and Maddi, I was the one that put our lives back together after your inconvenient death tore it apart. While we’re at it, and seeing as you claim to know everything about my new life, ask yourself how many times I’ve visited your grave?” He pales in the face and the thought of hurting him as much as he’s hurt me spurs me on. “Ask yourself how many times I’ve brought you up in conversation other than to shit on your memory?”

I wait for his reply. Nothing. My lips twitch. “Thought so.”

Then his hand whips out and slaps against the side of my face before I see it coming. My skin burns as heat spreads over the surface, but I don’t dare let my eyes fall from his pissed off face. I wonder if his face would crack and fall to pieces if he smiled? I continue to glare at him as he fades away into nothing. Good.

I shake my forearm as an unbearable pressure radiates from my elbow. I blink once, no, twice and before I know it, I’m on my back and Don has his legs over my chest while he straightens my arm out. I feel my joint pop and I shout out in pain. No, no, no, no, no. “No!”

I try to pull away but it only makes the pain worse.

“Seth!” Multiple people are screaming my name, but I can’t single them out.

There’s a second pop and my free arm feels heavy, like it’s made from solid gold and I can’t tap. Under my straightened arm, the one being squeezed against Don, I feel his chest vibrate with laughter and then he flicks his hips forward…

…and my arm breaks.

I shoot up in bed, panting as though I’ve run a mile.

“Seth?” I hear her husky, tired voice before I feel her warm, soothing hands on my body. I hang my head as her soft skin travels across my chest and down my spine simultaneously. I close my eyes and let her bring me back to reality. I’m not in an arena fighting Don. I’m in bed with my wife, my good wife… my damn good wife.

I fall back against the bed and lift an arm up for Olivia. She snuggles right into my chest and I sling my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in as close as I can.

“You have that dream again?” she asks as her fingertips slide up the center of my stomach, dragging over my muscles and dipping into the ridges between them. It feels good. A soothing energy flows from the tips of her fingers and the palm of her hand, calming my racing heart.

“Yes.”

She slides closer, pressing her firm, silky body harder against me. “It’s over now,” she says. “You’re here with me.”

I let the words sink in. You’re here with me. She presses her lips against my side and my body shivers. It’s not a normal shiver. It’s the kind of shiver only she can draw out of me, the kind that causes goosebumps to erupt over my skin. The shiver electrifies my blood, sending it pumping rapidly through my system down to my cock, stirring it from its sleep. Olivia drags her fingers delicately down my stomach to my hips and her fingers dance in small circles that would’ve put me to sleep if I wasn’t so painfully hard. I flex my hips into her hand, hoping she’ll get the hint—and she does. Her fingers hook around the band to my shorts and I lift my hips as she tugs one half of them down. Being the gentleman that I am, I help her with the other side. Olivia sits up, slinging a leg over my body and straddling me low on my hips. I can feel her bare, wet pussy on my flesh as she rubs her hands up and down my chest. She leans forward, barely putting any pressure on my body, and kisses me right on the chest. Again and again she kisses me while her hands glide over my skin. I groan as she lifts her ass, letting my cock slip between us, then she lowers herself, letting her center press against my shaft. My breath hitches as her hot, wetness coats me. She’s teasing me, allowing me to feel her without letting me inside and I like it. I don’t want her to give it to me straight away. I want her to toy with me, to drive me crazy with her body, and when I can’t take it anymore, I want her to give it to me, forcing me to start the sweet torture all over again. She knows exactly what she’s doing, something I never guessed when I met her. In public, Olivia appears innocent. Her eyes are bright and sweet, tricking you into thinking she’s never touched a dick before in her life, but when we’re alone, she changes. Her inner darkness is brought out, the innocence fades and the bright lights in her eyes dim, morphing into a naughty smolder. Behind closed doors, she knows exactly how to handle me. Olivia is an undeniable force on long legs and subtle curves all wrapped up with pretty green eyes. The perfect package. She often says that she is consumed by me, but it is I that is consumed by her. Her mind doesn’t work like anyone else’s. Someone looks at her and she thinks there’s something wrong with her dress or her hair, but when I see them look at her, I see the desire and envy as clear as day.

Dragging her kisses up my neck, she begins to rock her hips, sensually sliding herself up and down my length. She feels amazing—beyond amazing—and I haven’t even entered her yet. I close my eyes while her hands delicately massage my chest and she leans forward, resting her forehead against mine. I wish it was bright in here so I could see her face, so I could see her body against mine and the look on her face when I make her come.

“Do you like it when I go slow?” she whispers, her voice labored and husky as she catches her bottom lip between her teeth.

I smile and drag the very tips of my fingers along her thighs. Her muscles tremble as I lift my head off the pillow and suck her bottom lip into my mouth. She gasps, her hot breath flowing from her in excited pants.

I release her lip. “You know I love it.”

In response, she slides against me again and again, pushing me closer to the edge. I grip her hips, unable to keep my hands off her for another second. I dig my fingers in, forcing her to move in quicker strokes. “You know what else I love?”

She moans, her hands no longer massaging my chest, but digging in.

“Making you come.”

Olivia whimpers and her thigh muscles squeeze my hips. “You love it?”

I shiver. “Fuck yeah, I do.”

“Then do it,” she demands. “Please.” She shudders against a tremor and inhales sharply as she moves more frantically. “Please do it.”

I feel my own lips twitch as I buck my hips and roll her off me. She gasps as I push her hard into the mattress and reach between us. Her heady breath is almost a sob as she feels my hand glide against her inner thigh. I’m barely making contact and yet she shivers at the slightest graze. I lower my mouth and kiss her neck while I rub my hard cock up and down her lips. Immediately, Olivia’s body moves of its own accord, lifting to push against mine and urging me to take her. Her hands move up my shoulders and tighten in my hair as my lips continue to explore down her neck and over the rise of her collar bone. Fireworks are going off inside me, setting off every cell and every vessel, but I manage to keep my composure. My strategically placed kisses find her mouth again, and I kiss her hungrily—passionately. The passion I show my wife is a different kind of passion than I show (or have shown) to anybody else. The passion I spend on Olivia is fueled by love and lust. It’s never been like this with anyone else. Make no mistake, anyone can be passionate, but it takes real love to be passionate over and over, time and time again. I’ll never tire of her warm skin, firm or soft. I’ll never tire of her big, round breasts, perky or not, and I’ll never tire of her warm smile or bright green eyes. She’s mine, in sickness and in health, till death do us part—scratch that—even in the afterlife she’s mine and I’ll fight any spirity-ghost bastard that attempts to fuck this up.