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 sexual 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. ...