The rising MMA fighter tells herself she hates being under the promoter's thumb, but the woman's voice in her ear after hours, the way she looks at her across the cage, the private summons to the penthouse above the city lights - each command chips away at something she pretends she doesn't want to give.
What starts as professional obligation curdles into something the fighter can't name without her pulse kicking up. She pushes back. The promoter pushes harder. The space between them narrows to the width of a breath, then less, until the fighter can't tell if she's fighting to get free or fighting to be caught.
Her career hangs on this woman's word. Her body learns to wait for this woman's touch. The promoter knows exactly what she costs, exactly what she owes, and takes her time collecting. Night after night in glass rooms where anyone could see, the fighter discovers the particular shame of wanting what she shouldn't, of going wet and ready to the woman who owns her contract, her schedule, her growing desperation to be told what to do.
This is a full-length sapphic dark erotic romance featuring an MMA fighter who keeps saying no with her mouth and yes with everything else, and the promoter who decides which answer she'll listen to.
