Obsessed - Jenika Snow Page 0,3

opened first, and my heart raced, but it immediately stilled when I noticed it wasn’t Oli. The guy who walked out was big and toned, but he was so small compared to Oli that I almost felt bad. He’d get his ass handed to him fast tonight.

The endorphins pumped through me fast and strong. I was jittery and anxious, nervous and excited.

I watched the fighter make his way toward the ring. He was shirtless, with a lean, muscled abdomen. His head was downcast, his light-brown hair hanging over his forehead and kind of blocking his eyes. I was so disinterested in him I started searching the back doors again. He wasn’t why I was here. He wasn’t who I came to see. No one else mattered but one person.

Oli.

Oli.

Oli.

His name was on repeat in my head.

And then the second door opened, and I swore the atmosphere in the room changed, became even more charged, which seemed impossible for how alive it was before.

I saw him emerge from the room, his huge, corded body at ease, calm. It was like he walked to his job at an office or something for how unconcerned he was right now. His head was lowered, and he paid no attention to anyone. He never did. It was like they didn’t exist.

He never looked at women. He never talked to them or touched them, despite knowing he could have gotten all of them seven days a week and then some.

In fact, I’d never seen him with a woman, never heard any rumors of him being with one.

And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me deliriously happy… and turn me on even more.

Roars, cheers, and curses rang throughout the room. All at once, people started pushing and shoving even more, trying to get closer to the ring. I braced myself, but the momentum was too much and I was forced forward, Bernadette too. She snapped her head around and cursed at the people directly behind us. She was a spitfire; that was for sure.

And then Oli was in that ring, his body dwarfing the other fighter. God, why was he so… male?

My heart pounded harder this time as I took him in. He was shirtless, the black fighting shorts he wore barely containing his thickly muscled thighs. His chest was massive, his shoulders broad. His head was slightly downcast as he surveyed the other fighter, his dark hair short and slightly damp. His body was all ready and primed for the fight, his chest rising and falling evenly, tiny droplets of sweat covering his golden flesh.

As it always did when I saw him in that ring, my heart jerked in my chest almost painfully. Tendrils of excitement and anticipation wove through me, causing sweat to break out between my breasts, along my temples, and down the length of my spine. I was hot, and it had nothing to do with the crush of bodies all around me.

I wasn’t even going to focus on my wet pussy. There was no stopping the arousal that thrummed through me. And shifting on my feet didn’t ease anything. In fact, it made my need worse, pinching my clit between my lips, the pressure from my tightened thighs making the agony all the worse.

I tried to push my needs to the back of my mind. It would do nothing to help me right now but make me miserable. It’s not like I could climb up in that ring, throw myself in Oli’s arms, and beg him to fuck me.

I couldn’t, right?

I shook my head, my face feeling hot as that thought had other dirty images moving through me, ones of us naked, his big, sweaty body pounding into me. And I’d take all of it. I’d take all of him.

Looking around at the people surrounding me, I could see how excited they were and practically feel their adrenaline rushing through their veins.

Bloodthirst. That’s what I witnessed.

They were alive in this room, experiencing the violence that was soon to come, soon to make them higher, drunker.

I rose on my toes to see Oli better. A few people had already clambered in front of me, but there was a big-enough gap between their bodies that it still allowed me to see the ring unobstructed.

I kept getting pushed back and forth as the crowd got more aggressive. The fight hadn’t even started yet, and they were wound up tight. I still had a grip on Bernadette’s hand and could see the wonder