Corn, Cows, and the Apocalypse (Part 1) by Felicia Jedlicka Page B

women: beaten to a bloody pulp and still going back for more. 
                  I wanted to do well more than ever, for myself, but I still couldn’t beat him.  My sword fighting was laughable, and even Garrett admitted that we were probably wasting our time trying to force skill where there wasn’t talent.  My running speed had improved as well as my jumping, but no matter how fast I was, I still couldn’t beat him in hand to hand combat.
                  I flew back feeling the full impact of his fist on my eye.  It was amazing how much that hurt.  I was certain several times that my eye was going to explode like a water balloon, but it didn’t.  The swelling would go down.  The black eyes would fade, although they were usually quickly replaced.
                  Normally—in regards to my recent new normal—I would have gotten right back up and went after him, but this time I just stayed down.  We had been sparring for an hour working our way up to real hits as a way to build endurance to pain.  Basically we were beating the crap out of each other.  Naturally, I was losing.
                  “Get up.”  I could tell he was already angry.  He was getting more temperamental every day.  I assumed he was as frustrated with my progress as I was, but I wasn’t sure what he thought his anger was going to do about it.  He was already hitting me daily, what more could he threaten me with.  “Get up!”
                  I opened one eye, since the other was already swelling shut.  He was panting.  At least he had to exert some effort.  I shook my head at him and he ground his teeth huffing his derision like a big-nosed bull. 
                  He kicked my leg.  It hurt, but not enough to offer him the satisfaction of winning.  When I mouthed “fuck you” at him, I could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. 
                  He knelt down beside me and grabbed me by my shirt.  I wasn’t surprised that he had the strength to pull my torso off the ground, but I was impressed that my cotton shirt didn’t rip in his grip.  “That’s a great idea.  Maybe since you’re just going to lie on your back I can get a little use out of you.”
                  He tried to look me over luridly, but his eyes too quickly came back to rest on mine.  It was just a threat.  He might have wanted to do just that, but from what I had gleaned of his closed mouth personality over the last six weeks, he was bashful when it came to sex.   
                  More than a few nights I had fallen asleep on the couch with him, and each time he delivered me to my bedroom without any attempt to do more.  I had even gotten brave enough to walk around the house in my towel after my shower, but he didn’t take the bait.  Although, for the most part I still hated him, I was starved for attention.  Even the potential of having sex was better than nothing at all.
                  I smiled up at him.  “As long as I don’t have to move, you do whatever you need to.” 
                  His face contorted into three or four confused and menacing expressions, before he settled into interest.  His eyes flickered over mine, trying to read me.  Was I just being a smart ass, or did I really not mind if he had me?  He couldn’t read me so he looked over my body. 
                  He was evaluating me.  Seeing how much he wanted to have me.  Was it worth throwing out the whole days schedule just to satisfy his needs?  Adding to that, was it worth potentially disrupting days and weeks after that if he wanted more?                  
                  I hated to interrupt the questions lining up on his face to be answered.  I probably needed and wanted sex even more than him, but I also needed and wanted to win one freaking battle.  I wasn’t an egotist, but I