Page 92 of Embriagado

He withdrew at once, moving away and leaving me hanging. I was disappointed as much as I was turned on, if not more, and not knowing what to say, I glanced down at the erection pressing against my jeans.

The hell was I supposed to do now? But then, a wad of money landed on the ground next to my shoes. Confused, I picked it up, seeing it was all hundreds.

Fuck.

This was way more than my monthly salary.

“Your share from tonight’s gains,” Ariyan said, and I looked up from the money to stare at him.

“My… share?”

“Good boys get rewarded. Don’t they?” He whooshed his hand. “Now, move on, go back home, and… well, take care of that.” He glanced at my obvious erection, lips pursed.

My cheeks heated, and I blushed like some schoolboy, as if I hadn’t just knocked out someone in an illegal fighting cage. But it went beyond embarrassment. It was excitement, eagerness to taste more of whatever this crazy shit was. Fuck me if I knew why I cared for this psycho’s approval to begin with, but clearly, I did. And now, all I wanted was more.

A hell of a lot more.

24

ARIYAN

This dog… He knew how to listen after all.

With my undivided attention on the cage, I watched him prolong the fight while making his opponent sweat for it. He was on a whole different level from the other fighter, but listening to me, he made sure to put on a show. And it worked, considering how the crowd was losing it.

Moving around inside the cage, eyes on his prey, he looked like a fierce tiger. With his strong body and blood-covered fists, he was exactly what I needed.

A beast.

It was his third fight, and so far, it was going much better than the first two as he finally understood the game.

Cleaning a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth, he then glanced up at where I was staring at him from the shadows. My lips formed a tight line, as it was still too early to smile. Yet, I enjoyed the thirst in his eyes, the need for confirmation. He didn’t know it yet, but soon enough, he wouldn’t dare to piss without getting my approval.

Putting both hands on the railing, I leaned forward, watching closely as he punched the other fighter with such grace it seemed easy. Yet, it was anything but. The same as mastering the art of haiku, Mr. Rivas created poetry with his fists.

It was lethal, but gorgeous nonetheless.

Those punches and jabs he threw, I knew firsthand how painful they felt. I knew how his fist colliding with your face was enough to shatter your bones and what the aftermath of facing it felt like.

Briefly brushing a hand over my jaw, I focused back on the fight just in time to catch him looking up again, a dumb grin on his face.

What a fool.

But a useful fool, at that, because just now, he threw a perfect uppercut right into his opponent’s chin. But the fight wasn’t yet over, and the crowd roared as my beast began striking him again, and again, and again. Each punch echoed around the hangar, creating such a beautiful sound. The sound of violence, which I’d grown acquainted with. A sound that men, like the filth that flooded this place, were addicted to.

* * *

“Well, if it isn’t the hotel manager himself,” said the bookkeeper while piling stacks of money on the coffee table in front of him.

He was as much of a bookkeeper as I was a hotelier, but knowing better, we kept up the act.

“Mr. Sinclair. What a nice surprise seeing you here.” A fake smile spread on my lips. “I got so used to your subordinates that I forgot how you looked.”

He forced a thin smile, one that made his mustache curl upward like a caterpillar.

Lovely.

“Well, rumor has it that you brought a good one this time.” He leaned back on the leather sofa he was sitting on, while I kept standing. “So good that even the boss asked about him.”