Page 44 of Triple Threat

“Look at you, you big moosey bitch.” I reached across the bar and grabbed one of the bottles of gin from the glass shelf. “One little brown-eyed girl, and boo fucking hoo, you have to drown your stoicism in whiskey.”

“You better consider what you bloody say right now,mate.” Roan glared at me.

“Or what, you’ll have another drink?” I snorted. “You really showed me.” I mocked him without mercy.

“What’s wrong with you, you absolute…donkey?” He sputtered, setting his now empty glass down on the bar. “How could you do that to her?”

“What, mad I got there before you got the nerve up to try and hold her hand first?” I shot back. He lunged forward, grabbing the front of my shirt and powering me across the room, slamming me against the wall. The art rattled on its hangers, and I laughed at him. “I’m sorry,” I said, still laughing. He relaxed and stepped back. “Is hand holding third base for you limeys?”

I ducked as he punched a framed glass picture of a sailing ship. His meaty fist shattered the glass, and I could feel the air displaced by the swing.

That was close.

“Look what you made me do,” I said, looking down at the gin spilling out on the floor from the neck of my dropped bottle. Before I could pick the bottle up, he slammed me into the wall again. “You keep this up, you’re going to piss me off,” I grated.

“Pissyouoff? You think I care about making a spoiled wanker like you angry?” he demanded.

“Youshouldcare, I could kick your ass from here to Kandahar and back,” I threatened, politely.

“Oh, you wish you could,” he said.

“I just want to pick my bottle of gin up off the floor and go back to somewhere comfortable,” I said. “If you insist on being a pussy about this, what happens, happens,” I warned.

“Oh, I know what happens around you, you insensitive prick,” Roan growled.

“I am hardly insensitive,” I said.

“You’ve not seen this dolly of yours in years, maybe a decade, and the first real time you spend with her is dogging her against the living room window. She wascrying,you great arse!”

“She wasn’t crying, you fool,” I said, but I felt a tug of doubt.

“She had literal tears running down her face, had you bothered to look,” he said. “You might have noticed if you knew women had things besides a cunt to stick it and a pair of tits for handles.”

“Is that what you were staring at, watching her cry while I fucked her?” I asked sharply. She wasmine, mine to do with as I wished. “Is that why you were rooted like a tree?” He slammed me into the wall again. “You really need to stop doing that,” I growled, losing my patience. I really didn’t want to kick his crippled ass, but I would.

“I’m not rooted like a tree now,” he grated.

“You’re drunk,” I spat.

“You treated her like one of your whores and she isn't that, mate. She willneverbe that,” he said coldly.

She hadn’t pulled away, but shehadwhispered no. Lots of women said no, though! That was part of the game. If they said no, and they enjoyed some deviant thing you did to them, they could moralize about it – even when they loved it, when they came like animals.I’m not a dirty whore who likes my asshole pounded. I told him no.

Fucking female games,I told myself but I couldn’t make that line up with Sadie in my mind. She wasn’t like the escorts I paid; she was something much purer than that.

“No, I didn’t,” I said, but the seed of doubt was planted, and the vines were starting to creep.

He slammed me into the wall again. I looked down and could see the last glug of gin slop out of the bottle onto the hardwood floor. I was fucking over this. A perfectly good bottle of gin was destined for a mop bucket, my balls were drained, and now this doubt was chewing on my mind.

“You just use women, Lach. You use them like tissue paper. They’re just something for you to seduce and then dump your spunk into. How could youdo thatto her? She’s been a victim her entire life and you’re just the last predator in a long line of ‘em to lust after her.” He slammed me into the wall again, like it was punctuation.

I put my knee in the middle of his gut and returned the favor. He stumbled back and hit the bar harder than I had hit the wall. He grabbed at the edge of the bar, and for the stool next to it but missed both. Before he could get to his feet, I kicked him sharply in the lower leg. His prosthetic came loose from its normal position, making getting back up on his feet all but impossible now.

He really is a one-legged man in this ass kicking contest…I choked and sputtered on a laugh.

“Shady belongs to me,” I said. “I know you like her, but that’s just not going to work for me, dawg. She’s not a timeshare where I get her so many days a week and you get her the rest.” I picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured it out on the ground. “Doesn’t feel nice, does it, seeing this expensive shit wasted?” He looked up at me, his features dark with anger.

“You certainly like spilling other people’s things, like her tears,” he said.

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