The F King:A Bad Boy Romance(7)

By: Ada Scott


What my brain said to do was tip an imaginary hat at her and tell her to have a delightful evening before I left, but my cock had other ideas. I was still semi-hard from our bump and grind on the dancefloor, and teasing her while she flashed the innocent-blues at me.

Lord forgive me, but I still wanted to see what she looked like with my cock inside her. It’d never happen but, fuck it, I’d already spoken to her, what was the harm in a little more?

I’d take her to one of the club’s semi-private areas, and play a game of undercover-slut-chicken with her, see how far I could get before she bailed on it and had to report back that she couldn’t continue the investigation.

Maybe I could get my cock in her mouth, and she’d have to leave the club while trying to avoid any areas with black lights, because if she started sucking my hard dick, you can bet she was going to finish the job and wear some evidence. That brought the smile back to my face, which seemed to relax her a bit.

“No problem,” I said, and leaned forward again. “Listen, why don’t we-”

“Hey! You Ryan Crewe?”

I looked up and saw two guys who couldn’t have been less welcome at this point. The sloppy tats and shitty clothes were a dead giveaway that they were in the Cannibals street gang, who thought they owned this city. It never rains, but it fucking pours.

“Yeah. Excuse me for a minute,” I said to Sarina.

Scooting all the way around the booth so the hottest undercover cop in the world didn’t have to stand up, I got to my feet and ushered both of them away from our table. I glanced back and saw Sarina was doing her best to look casual, but she was straining to hear us.

She wasn’t as frightened of scary-looking motherfuckers like this as any normal woman would be. Fuck.

“Keep your voices down,” I said.

The two of them looked at each other as if I was crazy. Then the guy who had first spoken, the designated leader of the night I guessed, piped up.

“Yo, we heard you can get your hands on some F, that right?”

“Sorry, guys, I’m all out for the night,” I said.

“Oh, so you can get it, though? Well, let’s go get some more, fucker. We’ll drive you.”

Before I could even say anything, they each took a step in my direction and reached for me. I backed away, avoiding their grasp for the time being as righteous fucking indignation swelled up.

“Fuck off, shit for brains.”

It was probably not the most diplomatic thing to say, especially to these kind of people. When they weren’t getting high or committing petty or violent crimes, they were always whining about respect, but I sure as fuck didn’t respect them.

“You wanna die tonight? OK.”

The talkative one aimed a straight right in the direction of my chin, but I dodged to the left and countered with a straight right of my own that caught him flush in the nose. I saw the blood beginning to flow already as he staggered back and bumped into some girl at the edge of the dancefloor. Sarina was standing by our booth, looking like a deer in the headlights.

The silent one rushed me, swinging with a wild left hook at my head that I managed to block, but which still hit with enough force to send me stumbling back and to my left. He kept on coming, as I tried to regain my balance. The first guy knocked over the woman he’d staggered into and started in my direction again.

I got my feet properly under me again, just as another punch came whistling at me, sneaking through my guard and catching me right on the forehead. I heard the ‘thunk’ inside my head over the music and saw stars for a second, stumbling back even further.

Still, however much it hurt me, it hurt him enough to make him utilize his powers of speech. He cradled his hand for a second, it was likely broken, and cussed me out with more imagination than I would have given him credit for. Then he kept on advancing on me.

I aimed a left hook at his head, which he was forced to block with his broken hand, and followed it up with a right cross to his chin that made his legs wobbly. Unfortunately, the first Cannibal was back, and fucking furious beyond belief, raining punches on me that I barely had time to block, let alone consider countering.

He faked a right cross and I ducked, only to wind up catching a powerful uppercut right in the stomach. I immediately got nostalgic for the days when I was getting punched in the forehead, because holy fuck that hurt.

The wind was knocked out of me and I thought I’d rather get punched a thousand times in the head than one good one right in the stomach. I managed to tie his arms up enough that he wasn’t able to keep on punching me, but I saw his friend about to re-enter the fight already, and I still couldn’t breathe.

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