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I was about to snark back when the music rolled to a remix of “Welcome to the Jungle.” “The Viper,” I presumed.
The guy definitely had a…formidable presence. He was a beast, seeming to fill all the space around him, his muscles rippling beneath a tapestry of intricate tattoos. By the looks of them, he was a big fan of the devil. His body was adorned with piercings, glinting in the dim light of the warehouse. Silver rings were in his eyebrows, his nose…his lips, adding an edginess to his already menacing appearance.
But it was the tattoo across his forehead that drew the most attention—a word etched in bold, indelible ink: "Murder." The letters stood out starkly against his skin, quite the declaration to the world.
“I’m sure he has lots of friends. He looks like a really greaaat guy,” I drawled, watching as he jumped over the metal bars of the ring with a predatory grace, his eyes locked on Paxton with an unwavering intensity.
The madness of the room grew quieter, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation as spectators leaned in, drawn to the volatile energy emanating from him.
“It’s the fight you’ve all been waiting for.Paxton Jones vs. Damien 'The Viiiiper' Vega,” the announcer screamed, which was really unnecessary because the crowd was already pumped. “It’s tiiiime!”
The bell rang and the Viper struck first, launching a flurry of lightning-fast jabs that seemed to blur in the air. Paxton's defensive reflexes kicked in, his muscular frame moving with uncanny agility to evade the onslaught. But The Viper was relentless, his punches raining down like a storm, each strike threatening to find its mark.
I shifted in place, trying not to get worried as I watched Paxton. No matter what The Viper did, Paxton remained unfazed. The only sign he was even trying was the way his muscles tensed, and his eyes narrowed with an unwavering focus. Paxton skillfully blocked and parried, narrowly dodging devastating blows that could have sent him sprawling to the mats.
The Viper's attacks grew more ferocious, his strikes fueled by a dark, savage energy. A crimson stain mingled with the sweat on Paxton’s brow after one particularly brutal hit.
“Why does he insist on playing with his food?” complained Remington, somehow sounding bored with it all.
I elbowed him in the gut, never taking my eyes off the fight. The Viper's blows seemed relentless, each one packing a bone-crushing force that threatened to shatter Paxton's defenses.
As the fight progressed, the tide began to turn. Paxton's blows grew in intensity, each strike landing in the perfect place, designed to inflict the maximum pain. With just a couple of hits, The Viper’s face was marred with bruises and blood. His steps faltered under the relentless assault, and his movements slowed, his once-confident stance wavering.
“I want cheese fries!” I called out, and Paxton shot me a grin and then winked at me.
I was surprised I didn’t get pregnant at that very second.
Paxton obviously heeded my words, because his next hit was so hard that the whole warehouse could hear The Viper’s ribs cracking. Blood shot out of his mouth and he staggered forward. The crowd erupted in a chorus of bloodthirsty frenzied cheers, not giving a fuck that The Viper was obviously very, very injured.
I was actually impressed when The Viper didn’t immediately surrender. He gritted his teeth, summoning what must have been the last remnants of his strength, launching a final desperate, pathetic punch.
Paxton grinned, a bit psycho-like, I could admit, and unleashed a devastating uppercut that connected with a sickening thud. The Viper's body arched backward, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he crumpled to the floor, out for the count…and possibly dead.
The sound barrier was threatened as the crowd erupted, so loud I was sure my eardrum was about to burst. Paxton threw up one fist, his chest heaving, as he grinned at the crowd.
The announcer was trying to get his attention, but he jumped out of the ring and strode right towards me. I threw myself in his arms, not caring about the sweat…or the blood at all as I wrapped myself around him.
“Good fucking job,” I told him breathlessly, wanting to mount him right then and there. Before I could do what I wanted, a couple of goon-like men tapped on his shoulder.
Paxton groaned. “Got to go collect the winnings, sign some autographs. Meet me in the locker room so we can…finish this?”
“Definitely,” I practically whimpered as he slid me down his body, the hard ridge of his enormous dick hitting all the right spots. I watched as he walked away.
“You better look at me that way when I walk away,” growled Cain suddenly, scattering my lusty thoughts.
“Win a fight for me and maybe I will.” I stuck out my tongue at him and he snapped his teeth at me.
“You guys flirt really weird,” commented Remy, waving a huge stack of bills in my face—his winnings for the night from all the bets he’d made. And those were just the one’s he’d done in person. I had no doubt we were much better off than we had been before stepping into this warehouse.
We watched as The Viper was dragged off the mats like a carcass of meat, leaving a trail of blood behind him. It was really nice how they treated their participants in these fights.
I noticed, at least, that his chest was moving up and down. So he was still alive—for now.
He probably should do something about the whole ‘murder’ tattoo thing though. I wasn’t sure that was good for his life expectancy.
After waiting for another half hour, I decided even if Paxton wasn’t done signing autographs, he was going to be done signing autographs.
A girl had needs, after all.
