Page 11 of False Comeback

“Just leave me alone,” I shouted, my voice almost cracking. “Why the fuck are you still here? Just fuck off, Burke.”

After a few long seconds of silence, he huffed and turned away. “Still a fucking asshole.”

“Fuck you,” I snarled, still trembling like a leaf, my cock still achingly hard in my shorts.

I was still kneeling there, long minutes later, when I heard him leave his dressing room, slamming the door forcefully before his footsteps grew fainter as they echoed down the corridor.

Chapter Four

FAE BOYZ

Crossbody

“I want to fight Vince next week,” I declared the moment I swept into Holt’s office the next morning, not even bothering to knock.

When his head snapped up, I noticed the coloured pencils strewn over his desk and the thin book open to a page with the outline of a penis displayed. He’d been drawing what appeared to be balls of ice cream on top of it. And whipped cream topped with a cherry.

I barely managed to stop my eyes from rolling.

“El—” When I shot him a threatening glare, he hastily corrected himself. “Crossbody. A pleasure as always. Uh, what was that?”

As he hurriedly shoved the book and pencils into a drawer, I strode closer to the desk.

“I want to fight Vince next week,” I repeated, crossing my arms. “And I want to win.”

“Um, okay…” He frowned, reaching for his notebook and flipping to a page. “Any particular reason?”

I stiffened, grinding my teeth.

Because he fucked my throat last night and I hate how much I wanted it. Because he called me a cockslut, and a needy, pathetic hole, and came all over my face, and I fucking hate how much I loved it. I hate it. I hate him.

I managed a jerky shrug. “We haven’t been paired up in a while. The crowd loves seeing me sweep him off his ridiculous skates and slam him to the ground.”

“Well, the crowd really loves you against Carl,” he said doubtfully, referring to the vampire Blood Suckapunch—one of the few people I got along with. “And I was planning to put Vince against Heidi next week…”

“But you haven’t drawn up the matches yet, have you?” I raised a brow at him. “So just have them fight the week after. Me and Vince next week.”

Holt raised a brow at me in return as he leaned back in his seat and tapped his pen against the desk. Yet again, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes—his pen had a tuft of pink fluff at the end.

“You don’t call the shots, Spring Prince.”

I clenched my jaw. I despised not getting my own way.

Maybe when I retired from professional wrestling, I’d start my own league. Then I would answer to no one.

“I’m aware,” I said coolly. “But you know it would be entertaining.”

Holt’s brow arched again as he watched me with a knowing expression. “So this wouldn’t have anything to do with a little personal vendetta you may have against him.”

I managed to keep my face completely calm and blank. “Of course not.”

“Just ’cause I’ve heard from… anonymous sources”—which meant Taylor—“that things got pretty heated between you two during court yesterday.”

“Vince is unable to control his temper,” I said smoothly. “And Corey ruled that we aren’t to interact unless you decide to pair us up for a match.”

“So you want to be paired up with him?” Holt asked curiously. “From what I heard from the aforementioned anonymous sources, you can’t stand each other. Why do you want to be forced to interact with him?”

Because I want to beat him in something. Because I need to get back the control I lost to him last night.