And I have a feeling that, if I ever let this monster off its leash, it would devour her whole.
But it doesn’t mean anything.
Maybe I simply need to fuck her a few more times and get her out of my system.
Except even that thought irritates me because, somewhere deep down, I already know there is no getting her out of my system.
And that is the problem.
I have always had control. That is what my entire life has been built on.
Control and order.
Everything has to be exactly the way I want it. Even my own mind.
And if something is not the way I want it, Imake itthe way I want it.
I wake up every morning at five o’clock sharp.
I have a routine I follow down to the minute, shower, gym, breakfast, work.
The products in my bathroom never change, same shower gel, same shampoo, same toothpaste, same brands every single time.
I own a Rolex for each day of the week. The ties are organised the same way, the belts too.
Everything I eat is planned down to the last detail. I have a set menu for every day of the week, and every meal contains exactly what the body requires, protein, carbohydrates, vitamins.
My meetings are arranged weeks in advance. Every detail of my life ispredictable.
Exactly the way I want it.
Boxing is the only exception. The only time I let the monster breathe.
And when I do, havoc and death tend to follow.
Otherwise, it’s control.
Bloody control.
Doctors used to say there was something deeply wrong with the way my mind worked. Obsessive tendencies, compulsive behaviour…violent impulses.
Perhaps that explains this fixation I seem to have developed with a certain redhead.
Then again… if they could actually see inside my head, they would probably call me a psychopath.
“Are you even listening to me?” the grating, idiotic voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
I look up and narrow my eyes at Ms Erin… or was it Erika? Whatever her name is, I really don’t give a fuck.
She is perched on the edge of my desk with her skirt pushed so high I suspect the intention was to show lingerie, and judging by the state of her blouse, the professionalism died the second she walked in.
However, this little display does absolutely nothing for me.
Nothing.
A few weeks ago, I probably would have bent her over this very desk and given her exactly what she was asking for.
It is only sex. A basic human need that has never meant a damn thing to me beyond release.
