Page 51 of Major Penalty

My pulse skips, and my stomach twists as every instinct in my body tells me to listen, to get up, walk away from Ken, and go back up to the lounge.

But then I remember why I came here in the first place. I remember the women, the way they touched him, giggling and flirting, ready for a chance. Like he’s up for grabs.

Fine. If he has his fun, I’ll have mine. With one last lingering look, I turn back to Ken and smile.

“That would be great, thank you.”

If he can play this game, so can I.

Chapter fourteen

~ARES~

Twenty minutes.

That’s how long I’ve been watching her. That’s how long she’s been with him.

Some tall, clean-cut-looking motherfucker. Perfect smile. Easy charm. Harmless. The exact opposite of me. And she’s fucking eating it up.

Twenty minutes of watching her lean in, tilt her head, and bat those gorgeous eyes at some blond piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.

My grip tightens around my glass.

I thought I could push her away. I thought that if I let the puck bunnies cling to me, let them run their hands over my chest, purr in my ear, beg for my attention, she’d get the fucking message.

That this—whatever the fuck this is—can’t happen. But watching her now? Watching her with him? It’s fucking breaking me.

She knows I’m watching. And yet, she’s still sitting there, still letting that prick buy her drinks, still letting him believe he’s taking my girl home.

My teeth grind together as a hand slides over my chest. I barely register it at first. Then a sweet, sultry voice drags me back.

“Ares,” the brunette purrs, pressing her fake tits against my arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

When I don’t react, she presses in more, her breath hot and sticky against my neck. “I can suck your cock in the bathroom. Let you do whatever you want to me.”

Reluctantly, I peel my eyes away from Irene and look down at the woman with the dirtiest fucking look she can muster. I know how to get rid of girls like her. I’ve done it a million times, and I never get tired of the look in their eyes when I do.

“You ever heard of a butcher’s hook, sweetheart?” I ask, cocking a brow.

She blinks. Smiles. Runs her fingers lightly over my chest. “Mm, sounds kinky. Is that some kind of position?”

I laugh.

“No,” I murmur, leaning in, brushing my lips just shy of her neck. She tilts her head, inviting me in.

My mouth stops just at her ear. “It’s what I’d hang your desperation on if you keep fucking touching me.”

Her smile falters.

I don’t stop.

“I’m not interested. Not now. Not ever.” I let the words settle, razor-sharp and ice-cold. “So, unless you’re looking to get gutted in front of your friends, walk the fuck away.”

She freezes, her eyes wide. I can almost hear the gears turning as she processes what I just said.

And then she stumbles back, her hands up like she just realized I’m not the kind of guy you tease into bed.

“You’re fucking insane,” she snaps, shaken now.

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