I step back, bringing my hands up to guard my face and throw a cross, except the jerk goes flying sideways.
“Walk away.” Beckett’s voice is deep and gravelly.
The idiot must be short a few brain cells because he swings wildly. Beckett dodges and I just roll my eyes. Anyone who’s even had an iota of training can slip those haymakers.
Problem is, he swung at my man. Or soon to be my man. Or the person I will convince to be my man.
Dropping low and sweeping the guy's legs out from under him, he goes down hard, and I grab his wrist, placing him in a wrist lock. “Next time you try to touch what's mine, I'll cut your fucking hand off.”
To make my point, I wrench his wrist until the bones snap.
The crowd has parted around us, everyone staring in shock and awe. I focus my attention back on Beckett and give him a cheeky grin, cocking my head to the side. “Fancy meeting you here. You following me now?”
Instead of responding, he crosses the distance between us in three long strides, then grabs me around the waist and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down, you caveman!”
“Had enough of your shit tonight,” he says as he tightens his grip around my thighs, making his way through the crowd.
“This is so embarrassing.” The words are barely out of my mouth when a sting of pain radiates over my left butt cheek. Did he just? I twist, trying to meet his eyes and glare at him, but he just faces forward and spanks me again.
When I look back at the table where my friends are sitting, Eli’s smiling so wide I can see his teeth from here. And he’s giving me double thumbs up. Jackson and Killian are laughing their asses off, while Connor just shakes his head.
But Zach looks . . . angry. He even pushes away the loser who’s still sucking him off.
That can’t be right.
Just hope they’re all smart enough to make sure Eli gets home before my cousin ends up making a trip to Crestwood to murder us all.
Chapter 11
Beckett
The ride back to my apartment is relatively quick, more so because I had the bike going over 100 mph, mostly to calm myself down. While Viktor’s bratty side seriously pushed some limits, I also caught the way he backed up when that jackass’s hands first started to dip lower.
What’s unsettling is not knowing what length Viktor will go to for attention. There’s no denying he has mine. But then what? He moves on?
Why am I even thinking about this? It’s not like I want something serious with him. Not when my life is starting to feel like it’s getting back on track.
I know I’m playing with fire by giving into him right now but, as he pointed out, I already crossed the line. And maybe fucking him will get it out of both of our systems. He’ll move on and turn his attention to someone else.
Throwing the door open to my apartment, I pull him inside, then slam the door and pin him against it. “You think you can handle me because of a little throat fuck? Well, you’re about to find out what you’ve really gotten yourself into.”
I crash my mouth down on his, devouring him as I rip his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. My tongue dominates his as I grapple with his belt, then pants. When I yank the zipper, it rips and I know I probably just destroyed his really expensive suit.
Oh, well. I’m sure he has the money to replace it.
He moans and whimpers into my mouth, rocking against me as he kicks off his shoes, then pants.
“Such a needy slut. Is this because you haven’t gotten off for a few days? Or are you always this way?”
“I . . . you. Want so bad.”
Pulling back, I pin him with a glare. “You smell like him.”
“Who?”
“The asshole you were dancing with.” I grab his arm and lead him toward the bathroom. “Want the scent of that cheap cologne gone.”
