“Get up from your seat and walk to the alley behind the cafe,” I order.
Nodding his head, the little punk all but launches from his seat. He has too much testosterone and cheap champagne running through his veins for his own good. They’re dulling the parts of his brain that should be warning him not to listen to me. It’s not fair of me to take advantage of his inebriation, but I’m not a fair man.
“Fine! Let’s go, motherfucker!”
Jumping in place, he flings his arms like he's a goddamn baboon. I hate that he’s making a scene, but now I’m fired up. My lawyer and publicist can take care of any negative social media posts that will come my way.
Standing from my seat, I point to the door. Pressing my lips into a fine line, I stare at him as he turns on his heels and stomps out of the restaurant. His movements are sloppy and unsure, causing him to stumble as he crosses the threshold onto the sidewalk. I should leave and head straight to Dolly’s apartment, but I am beyond giving a fuck.
Quickly glancing around the restaurant, I take note of how many patrons have a cell phone in their hand.Eightin plain sight.While not a fantastic number, it shouldn’t take much to scrub any videos or pictures that are being taken. Sam is correct in that I do have more money than Jesus, and after I beat him into a bloody pulp, I will use my money to ruin the rest of his miserable life.
Following the dumbass, I stalk out of the cafe and roundthe corner. Balling my hands into tight fists, I make my way into the narrow alley.
Turning to face me, Sam puffs out his chest and takes a wobbly step towards me. Standing my ground, I let him make the first move. It’s always safer for me legally when they attack first.
“I’m gonna kill you, fucker!” he yells.
Raising his fist, he pulls back and lets go without any semblance of a plan. Swinging wide and loose, he somehow contacts the edge of my jaw. While not powerful in the least, it stings just enough to royally piss me off.
Pulling my lips back into a snarl, I bristle with aggression. Lifting my steady fist, I throw a right hook that makes full contact with his cheekbone. Just as I imagined, his skin splits beautifully under my knuckles, causing a wound that will most undoubtedly require stitches.
Letting out a pained yelp, Sam’s shaky legs force him to take a step back.He tries to right himself, but the alcohol is doing its job. Screaming out an obscenity, he starts swinging like a prepubescent boy experiencing his first schoolyard fight.
Dodging his weak punches, I can’t help but chuckle. His face turns just as scarlet as the blood dripping from his cheek, the look of pure hatred burning behind his brown eyes. Wild and angry, he continues to swing without rhyme or reason in the hopes that at least one will land.
Sidestepping as he stumbles forward, my laugh echoesoff the brick walls in the alley as he falls to his knees. I could end this here and now, but the asshole needs to learn his lesson. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, I pick him up and throw him against the wall. Slamming against the unforgiving stone, he somehow manages to get his legs under himself. Spinning around to face me, he presses his back against the wall to keep himself upright.
“Dude! What the fuck!” he squeaks, his voice rough with fear.
Growling low, my left-hand grabs onto his athletic tee. Twisting my hold into the quick dry fabric, I raise my fist once again and land two more rapid punches to his face as hard as I can. One hit cracks into his square jaw, the other bashes his temple. Each punch slams the back of his head into the brick behind him, only exacerbating his injuries. He blinks at me dazed and confused while his brain registers the acute pain. Pulling my fist back once again, I pause when I notice the light behind his eyes begin to dim.
A disgusting sound leaves his mouth, something that resembles the melding of a wet moan and a thick gurgle. His eyelids flutter down, and his body goes sickly limp, signaling my laughable triumph. I should be pleased that our scuffle didn’t last long enough to cause a ruckus, but it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I haven’t even begun to teach my lesson and the chickenshit has lost consciousness.
Hissing under my breath, I release my grip on him and let him fall to the dirty asphalt. Breathing hard, I allow myself a moment to savor the adrenaline spiking through my veins. While it’s nothing like the high of extinguishing someone’s flame, I must admit, it does feel good. Even if it’s from a cheap win.
Bending down next to his slumped body, my hand digs into the pocket of his shorts for his phone. Grabbing the slim cell, I stand back to full height and give it a quick look. My eyes focus on a single text flashing over the screen.
Lifting my lips into a smile, I reread Dolly’s words for a second time. I’m relieved that she doesn’t share the same feelings for Sam as he does for her, it will make things easier in the end. I know this douchebag will pull something stupid, and when he does, I’ll snuff out his fire for good.
“That’s my girl,” I say to myself as I throw the phone against the brick, smashing the cheap electronic into a dozen, tiny pieces.
CHAPTER nine
DOLLY
“Maybe I shouldn’t pack a damn thing and just be naked?” I wonder aloud.
Folding my arms over my chest, I stare at my opened suitcase with my brows furrowed in thought. Sutton told me to pack a week’s worth of clothes, but what kind of week am I looking at? Will we be going out? Staying in? Lounging on some tropical beach? Having a week’s long sex session in bed?
Geeze, I hope so. He probably has a massive bed. And a massive cock.
Laughing softly to myself, I step back to my wooden dresser. Rifling through my opened underwear drawer, I pull out ten pairs of my newest panties. They aren’t that sexy, but they’re all I have at the moment. I hope Sutton won’t be too disappointed that I don’t own anything super risqué. Lace is about as fancy as I get, and I’m heavy on the florals. I’ve never been the type of girl who could pull off leather and fishnets.Ugh,I hope that isn’t a turnoff for him.He has probably been with women with no gag reflexes who can fold into pretzels and squirt on command.
The reason why I’m so nervous is because of how I was raised. My family is very conservative, and very Catholic. Sex was never a topic we openly discussed. Sometimes I wonder how my parents were able to have my sister and me. If we didn’t have our dad’s nose and our mom’s eyes, I would swear we were adopted. Though I suppose there’s always a chance we were both made in a test tube.
I was always taught that sex was something you save for marriage, but I sinned for the first time when I was a junior in high school. I actually went to an all-girls Catholic high school but met my first boyfriend through my best friend at the time. It was a secret relationship that I kept close to the chest. My parents still have no clue that I lost my virginity at seventeen.
Besides him, I’ve only been with two other men. All three were terrible teachers. I feel like I should be much more experienced than I am at twenty-six. But I suppose that’s what happens when you’re an introvert that moved a lot as a child and were constantly bombarded by religious guilt. Forming relationships can be difficult for me, and I still feel like I’m going to hell sometimes for some of the choices I’ve made.
