Page 70 of Blinded By The Sun
I walk into one of Alex’s warehouses and I see Igor. He still looks like a dumb idiot sitting there on the floor, and I can tell that he has murder on his mind. Alex’s men have done well by not touching him. I didn’t want them to do anything but clean up his cuts. His busted lip looks like it’s healing, the cut on his eye still has a long way to go but I don’t care. “You miss me?” I ask him.
“Fuck you!” He spits at me. “Fight me like a proper man with no help from your friends.”
I chuckle as I remove my rings, placing them on the only piece of furniture in here. I crack my neck and remove my tee shirt. “Stand up, there’s nothing stopping you from trying to attack me. Shake the fucking room,” I taunt him.
The dumb fuck realizes that Alex’s men aren’t close enough to do anything to him if he charges me. He stands and charges me without thinking about it. When he gets closer, I smirk as I slowly form a tight fist. When he’s close, before he lifts his fist up, I swing and hit him square in the jaw. “Oh, did your cousin forget to tell you I do MMA fighting for fun?” I smirk as I get in the fighting stance.
Igor isn’t thinking but with full of anger as he comes again and tries to get a couple hits in but he can’t because I’ve tapped into the side of me that reeks of murder and too many bodies to count. I grit my teeth and growl like a damned animal. I swing, not giving it a rest. I zone out, almost blacking out as I attack, attack, attack and attack. I don’t care about self-defense. He could’ve avoided this, but he knew what I was or rather what I still am. I am not calledTuerefor the fun of it. Igor’s jaw cracks when I deliver a final blow. His head knocks back, and he falls to the floor. I stop for a second, inhaling deeply in what I know is someone close to their death. The smell of death is a motivation for me. Not a pause. Nothing can stop me even if Igor found his voice to beg me for forgiveness, I don’t give a fuck.
I crouch down next to him and I pull my hunting knife from the sheath inside my boot. I play with it a little bit balancing it in between my fingers. I slap Igor hard, more than once, so he could come back to the now. When he does, I smile. He opens his mouth and I catch his tongue. “Let me let you in on a little secret, the tongue is the strongest organ in your body, did you know that? It’s also flexible, but let’s test out how flexible and strong it is when I cut it off.” Without warning, I quickly swipe the sharp knife cutting his tongue off and Igor screams an odd sound. Guess he can’t make the proper noise since, well… He has no tongue.
I stand and stomp on his face. Fuck him, fuck the Petrov family, fuck all my enemies. I keep stomping until it caves in his face and I hear the one thing protecting his brain crack. I roll my shoulders back working my kinks out and I kick his head to the side; I stomp a couple more times and then I’m satisfied when I see brain matter paint the warehouse floor and some get on my boot. Damn shame, I really liked these boots.
I look up at one of Alex’s men who flinches as if his boss isn’t a complete psycho. “Send him like this to where Nicolai Petrov is staying here in Vegas. That gray eyed bastard thinks I don’t know he shot at my wife. Tell him, meet me because if I hunt him down, I’ll pull his intestines out so I could show everyone in his circle he’s a fuckingcochon. Make sure he knows that he’ll die on American soil like a fucking dirtbag instead of his motherland.” I throw the knife on top of Igor and walk over to where my shirt is. I bend removing my boots and socks. I put my shirt and rings back on and I walk out of the room heading over to the car. I haven’t had my breakfast yet and I’m starving.
When I get to the car, I pull my cell out and dial Boston. “There should be info of Kingsley’s father coming to you soon. I told one of the boys to send it to you. Tell me what I need to know and why he’s in Vegas.”
“Done. See you soon.”
“Meet me at one of Alex’s clubs, I need a stiff drinket je suis affamé; starving, if you don’t understand me in French, bitch.” Boston laughs and I continue, “I want a fucking steak and a side of pussy. I’ll call you back.” I hang up before Boston can respond and I call King.
“Hi Cir, I was just talking about you,” my baby answers.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What about? Because I was just thinking about you.”
“You go first,” she says to me.
“I’m thinking about how I want to put my balls in your mouth,” I admit to her.
“Aren’t you in the car?”
“J’m’en calice! I’d fuck you in the car if you were here. I’m fucking horny, baby,” I groan. “Where are you? I might have to do a detour.”
“You don’t give a fuck?” She repeats in English and laughs. “I’m with Kenna at the hair salon, I wanted something different with my hair.”
“Yeah? Send me the address and when I text you come outside. I don’t give a fuck if your hair is halfway dry. Bring my pussy to me.”
“I thought you wanted your balls in my mouth?” she says and I hear Kenna and someone else coughs in the background.
“Yeah those too. We’ll have enough time. Fuck. Okay. Send me the address. I’ll text you.”
“Okay, sir.”
I groan at her answer and hang up. I want to cum inside of her and all over her at the same time, even if that’s not possible. I rub a hand over my hardened dick and when I get the address; I instruct the driver where to go. He says nothing because there’s nothing I need him to fucking say. I’m both on a killing high and a fucking high; the euphoric shit.
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