Before I could even speak, Shooter said, “Okay, I was a good boy and survived, give me my reward.”
“Well, I could drag this out a little bit longer.”
“Amelia,” he growled out. “We can spend our little vacation either in rewards or punishment.”
“Oh, you’re no fun. But here, I think this might give you a little more motivation.” I reached into my back pocket and unfolded the photo. I held it out, showing the little blip. His face softened and darted back to me.
“Amelia, are you… this is?” he started to ask.
“Your third reason to win this fight? Of course it is,daddy.” I bit my lower lip.
He stared at the photo, seconds ticked by, I knew there was more to say but time was not on our side.
“Fight like hell. End this fight once and for all.” With one thrust of a bruising kiss and a bell soon to be rung, I knew one thing. I had given his beast enough firepower to end this all.
Chapter 47
Shooter
Amelia was pregnant.
She was pregnant with my child,ourchild.
I wanted to celebrate with her, carry her in my arms, and show her how happy I was that she was fulfilling both our dreams. She was carrying around a piece of me that was going to forever keep her tied to me in the most beautiful way. I couldn’t resist the thoughts of seeing a round belly grow with my child.
She would be the most amazing mother with a high spirit.
She was going to be carrying more than just my child, but soon my last name. All the nights that I filled her perfect pussy, her begging for it, every night she was cradled in my arms, telling me every wish she had, everything was worth it.
I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t see the handprint around her neck. There was more to the story, one that should never have happened.
I rolled my shoulders back, knowing that I didn’t need much more to end it all. Sure, I was bruised and almost felt broken, but that didn’t matter.
Titus took a step further into the center, his cocky smile that started to drip with blood never faded. I didn’t care how many points had been rewarded or what I needed to catch up with, I had one plan.
Wipe. Him. Out. Give him no chances to get back up.
The corner of his mouth perked up higher. “That your girl?”
“Enough chirping,” I warned him.
“How could she be with a man like you? Weak? Only trying to survive.”
“Last chance.”
He laughed. “Maybe she needs a real man. Bet I could make her moan louder.” He started to circle like he had done before he tried to take an advance on me. It wasn’t his combinations that impacted me, it was the force behind every hit and strike. He knew that if he distracted me with multiple hits that I would get lost in defending myself to make an attempt.
I had enough chirping in the past, it never phased me. It was a typical head game tactic. I’d used it plenty of times. But one thing that would never happen would be someone talking about my girl.
“I told you last chance; apparently you lost more brain cells you never had.”
He had one true weakness; when you took a hit on him he would scramble to defend himself. He would turn sloppy; his combinations would become a little weaker. The hits I took didn’t affect my own thoughts. My mind had been somewhere else in the match. That quickly resolved and a new strength grew.
I advanced by throwing combinations at him, trying to get his defense down. I could see the people in his corner yelling at him to do something. The crowd overpowered any corner talk. Staggered back a couple of steps, trying to plant his feet firmlyon the ground. He threw his arms up in defense of his face. But little did he know, he left himself wide open.
I took the opportunity, throwing a few left hooks into his body, putting all the power I had behind them, hoping to knock the wind out of his lungs. I wasn’t going to need three minutes of the round, maybe only two.
Titus groaned as the last blow to his sternum made him cough and stagger a step back, bringing his arms to his sides. Screams and yells came from his corner, the fear in their eyes that perhaps they underestimated me or the club. I chuckled to myself, knowing that they underestimated one woman.
