King's blow knocks me against the wall, rattling my brain. I land on my feet and spring back using my frustration to power the left hook I throw at his head. I don't connect, but it was a setup for the right uppercut that hits his jaw.
We're both bloody. And the s****l frustration I'm dealing with takes me past the point of caring about a little blood. Each morning, noon, and night, King kisses me like I'm the air he breathes and then the jerk walks away seemingly satisfied. I've done everything except flat out ask him to have s*x with me. And this has been our game for six frustrating weeks. Living together and not giving into the things we want has been a lesson in patience. Even bloody, I'd take him right here, right now.
Mate.
"Yes, mate," I tell Ms. Beast. The beast inside me isn't
