Page 82 of The Savage King

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DECKER

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God, I hope she didn’tsee my morning wood. That’s all it was. I definitely do not want Isabelle to think I am interested in any more sexual activity with her.

I am not.

I do not sleep with women who belong to someone else.

Ever.

If she were mine, I would castrate anyone who had done what we have. Cut off his goddamn tongue and fingers. I doubt thisToddhas the same background as mine, but I’d love to go one-on-one with him and tell him what a fucking idiot he was letting her go to the Mancini wedding, unprotected.

What the hell was he thinking?

Todd.

What a fucking stupid name.

I bet he plays polo and lives in a fancy penthouse in Manhattan with polished Tom Ford shoes and a wardrobe full of custom-made suits.

Like Connor.

But Connor also has a wardrobe full of firearms, so there’s a difference.

I fucking hate Todd.

I don’t know the guy, but I hate him. I hate that he has this... this... virginal...beautiful...

Fuck.

FUCK!

I can’t even form words to describe what I’m thinking because I don’t understand it myself. Why do I care?

Good for Todd.

Enjoy your wedding night taking Isabelle’s innocence, asshole, and if she gives you a blowjob like the one she gave me last night, you will be a happy man.

He doesn’t fucking deserve her.

You don’t even know him.

“Stop glaring at me, Deck. Just tell me. I deserve to know, or maybe you should just drop me off at the U.S. Embassy.”

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