Page 203 of The Monster and the Masochist

“Ugh! You’re the fucking worst!” I grumbled, even as I finally managed to rip the last splitter out of her foot.

She groaned… but not like it hurt. More like it was turning her on, and frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to entertain her masochistic tendencies at the moment. Not when her feet were this fucked up, and she had her fight with Svetlana Petrova later, who she’d told me was one of the most dangerous fighters in the fucked up ring she insisted on competing in.

“I told you… the pain… It helps. It’s a crutch. I know it’s dangerous, but sometimes I need it to keep me from completely going off the deep end, Cass.”

I glanced up at my wife as I finished wrapping her feet.

She was frowning at me now, her playful smirk nowhere to be seen. She looked worried, like she thought I was going to be mad at her for being honest with me about what she needed.

Standing up, I abruptly fisted her by her little bun and yanked hard enough that I knew it would hurt.

She hissed in pain as I crawled on top of her.

“Shit! Cass!”

Wrapping my free hand around her throat, I squeezed until she gasped for me, her dark eyes bulging in surprise.

“If you need someone to hurt you, you come to me, understand?”

She choked and gasped when I released her throat, only to bark out a surprised shout of pain as I back-handed her hard across the face.

“Fuuuuccckkkkkk….” she moaned, and I smirked as she began to unintentionally roll her hips up into me.

“No more self-sabotage, Theodora. If you need pain, I will give it to you, but we’re doing it my way. Tell me you understand.” I grabbed her by the jaw and forced her head back to look at me, and she stared up at me with wide, desperate eyes.

“Say it.” I squeezed her cheeks until her full lips puckered, and she nodded her head frantically.

“I-I understand.”

“Good.” I smirked.

“Now, with that being said, what are we going to do about your fight later? Your feet are fucked. I don’t want you stepping into the ring with that murderous bitch if you think there’s a chance you might lose.”

The lust faded from Theo’s dark eyes, and she grew limp beneath me. I released her jaw, and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“I don’t know. I need to go to the ring and talk to Jerry about it.”

“What does your coach think about all this? I doubt he’s going to want you to fight with your feet like this any more than I do.”

“I know. I just… It’s hard, Cass. I’ve been working toward this for years. Svetlana is like… a fucking god in my world. If I can beat her, it’ll… I don’t know. It feels like maybe it’ll be closure or something. If I can step into a ring with the Russian and win, then there’s not really any reason for me to fight in that league anymore anyway, you know? I already beat the meanest, baddest bitch there is, so who cares if I retire?”

I mulled this over.

Honestly, I understood it.

I was a perfectionist and competitive as fuck too. This fight for Theo was the equivalent of me taking on a challenging case.

The whole point of winning was to prove to myself that I was the fucking best at what I did, and I couldn’t think of anyone who needed that kind of self-validation more than my wife.

Maybe winning this fight would be good for her healing, and if it gave her the closure she needed to finally actually want to quit the league, maybe it wasn’t a bad idea.

“But what about your feet? You’ll be at a disadvantage,” I said, and suddenly, Theo’s playful smirk was back.

“I told you I like pain, Cass. If anything, I’ll just be hella turned on after stepping on my injuries all night, and then you can fuck me senseless after I win to celebrate.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at me suggestively, and I smothered a laugh.

“Fine, you fucking psycho.”