Page 12 of Alfie, Darling

‘Gosh, he’s covered in tattoos,’ Nancy, one of my few longer-term friends, said.

‘He’s a creep,’ I responded, taking a sip of my drink.

‘Are you sure?’ Her gaze lingered on where he lay on the mattress, facing straight upward, utterly ignoring the goings on. ‘He doesn’t really look that threatening.’

‘You know as well as I do that creeps can be as attractive as they can be repulsive. Someone’s appearance doesn’t make them good or bad.’

‘I know. I just don’t get that feeling from him. His aura isn’t giving that off at all.’ Nancy shrugged.

Honest to God, Nancy and her bloody auras. While I couldn’t deny she was often pretty accurate in her character assessments, I didn’t believe in glowing hazes or whatever she claimed to see. And I knew Alfie was a piece of shit.

A piece of shit who was looking far too comfortable.

‘Take him out,’ I said to Petros, who hesitated for a few seconds before prising the keys from his pocket and unlocking the cage.

Alfie didn’t put up a fight as Petros pulled his hands behind his back and fitted a set of handcuffs to his wrists before removing the heavy shackles. Seeing Petros manhandle Alfie gave me an uncomfortable tingle low in my stomach. One I pushed away, unwilling to explore it.

Petros walked Alfie out of the cage and towards me. Eyes all around watched with interest as Alfie held his head high, not seeming the slightest bit fazed by the fact he wore nothing but boxer briefs in a room full of clothed people.

His lack of shame made me see red.

Petros forced Alfie down to his knees a few feet away from me, and the way Alfie met my eyes left me unsettled. He should have been fearful. Should have cowered.

He didn’t.

Inky tattoos covered the majority of his chest, stomach, arms and neck. A mixture of different artwork that spoke of decades beneath the needle. No stranger to a bit of pain then.

‘Are you ready to tell me what you know?’ I asked, sitting forward and resting my elbows on my knees.

‘I’ve as little to tell you now as I had earlier.’ Even his words were confident. Cocky little fuck.

‘This room is full of people who would love to see you bleed, Alfie. They’d love nothing more than for me to push you to the ground and sever your pathetic dick from your body. To listen to you cry and scream and beg. Being a cocky cunt isn’t your best course of action here.’

The fucker bit his lip to try to hide the smirk that lifted the edge of his mouth. Worse, his cock pressed thickly against the material of his underwear.

‘Oh my God,’ Nancy breathed beside me.

Was he... turned on by this?

‘What the fuck is that?’ I asked, my words laced with disgust.

Alfie looked down before shrugging.

Rage filled my limbs as I stood and pulled my flick knife from my pocket, barrelling down on Alfie and kicking him to the floor. He landed with a grunt, his back squashing his bound arms between him and the floor.

‘You repulse me,’ I said, pinning him beneath my shoe, the sole digging into his throat. ‘You should be begging for your fucking life, and instead, you dare to get turned on? To make this about your dick. Just another abusive fuck like your father.’

Alfie groaned, his throat bobbing beneath my shoe.

‘I can’t help it. If you are going to threaten me with a good time, my dick’s going to join the party.’

Leaning down, I slipped my knife between his hip and the fabric of his boxer briefs, severing the material and letting it fall from him.

A collective gasp arose at his exposed cock. Which only made me all the angrier.

But I understood why. Silver gleamed along the veiny shaft, a whole ladder of piercings. Fucking hell.

‘I should do you a favour and cut it off if you can’t control it,’ I said, unable to drag my eyes from his throbbing, studded erection.

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