“Stop,” the fucker gasped out, the man trying to beg for his life. But I had no compassion for him, no empathy. I did loosen my hold just enough so he could breathe. I didn’t want this over just yet.
“I wanted to kill you for what you did, but Poppy wouldn’t want that.” I lifted my arm and placed the tip of the bat right by his head. The bat was more for show. I liked working with my hands, and that’s were the brass knuckles came in. “But, I’d be lying if I didn’t say hearing your bones break under this bat wouldn’t make me feel pretty fucking good.”
“I’m sorry. It meant nothing with her.”
I bared my teeth, knowing this fucker was trying to make it seem like he didn’t mean to do anything, like she didn’t mean anything. “You’re sorry because you know you’re fucked.” I tightened my hold again, but then released him. Before he fell to the ground, I slammed the brass knuckles into his face, seeing flesh tear open and blood spray. The asshole fell to the ground, coughing and sputtering out.
“I…” he gurgled again, and I smirked, not giving a shit what he said. My dark side rose up, and fuck, did it feel incredible.
I knew this type of guy, had seen them countless times. They were assholes, abusers of woman because they saw them as inferior, weaker. They were nothing but little bitches that pissed their pants when they knew they were screwed.
I dropped the bat, lifted him off the ground, and started punching him, the brass knuckles tearing into his face. Bone crunched; I saw blood start pouring out of his nose and mouth, his cuts and forehead. I loved the fact he was crying, begging me.
“I want to do more than this, fucker. Take your beating like a man.” The smell of blood filling the air was like pennies in my nose.
I don’t know how long I stood there beating the fuck out of him, but when I finally let him fall to the ground, I was covered in his blood. The asshole was still alive, crying on the ground in a fetal position. “You mess with any other women again, do this shit to them, and believe me, I’ll find out and hunt you down.” I knew he wouldn’t fuck with another woman again, not when he glanced up at me and nodded. His face was like raw meat, and I turned my head and spit beside him. “Be glad I let you live. I could have done so much more.”
I turned and left the prick on the ground, covered in his blood, feeling a semblance of pleasure that I’d at least gotten something out of this. I would head back to the office to clean up, and then I was going to my woman to show her what it meant to be mine.
7
Alexei
My dirty work was done for the day. The little punk knew not to fuck with what belonged to me.
My blood was pumping, and I wanted her. I’d gotten cleaned up and was now headed back to the apartment. My dick was rock hard, my balls ached, and I wanted to see her.
She was like a drug, and I was one hundred percent addicted to her. I wanted her.
Climbing the stairs to my apartment, I felt the anticipation building more than ever before.
When I first entered, I didn’t see her. Closing the door I’d just opened, I looked at each of the sofas, not seeing her. She caught my gaze as she turned from the floor to ceiling windows of my apartment. Those windows allowed me to overlook the city that I considered my own.
“Alexei,” she said.
“Why haven’t you changed?” I asked, tugging on my tie.
“I didn’t want to.” She nibbled her lip and cocked her leg up, bending her knee. I saw her rubbing her pussy, squeezing it tight between her thighs, and I wanted a taste of that snug sweetness.
“What are you doing, Poppy?” She was a contradiction between sweet and innocent and fiery temptress.
She fingered the edge of her shirt and took a step toward me. I watched her tits bounce with each step she took toward me. I reached out, flicking the light. Poppy paused, blinking a few times as she grew accustomed to the light. “I figured you’d want to be the one to take it all off me.”
When she stood in front of me, her hand moved to the edge of my jacket. She skimmed her fingers up the inside and opened it just a little.
Capturing her hands, I stopped her from making another move.
Pressed against the front of my pants, my dick wanted attention. I was so turned on; I’d never felt this way about anyone else.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.