Page 11 of Cage's Downfall

Fucking bastard was playing with fire.

“She’s not interested man,” I said confidently, causing him to turn around. He gave me a look, then looked me up and down, sizing himself against me. His eyes then landed on the patch on my chest.

“Maybe we should let her decide,” he said. The bastard must be drunker than I.

The boys laughed behind me in the booth.

I looked at Autumn. “Why do you attract dickheads?”

Then I looked back at the guy who was prepared to get into a fistfight over one night with Autumn. Hell, I got it. But the bastard should know I wasn’t backing down. But neither was he by the looks of it.

“You want to be able to walk tomorrow?” I said, and his eyes were already narrowed on me. “Okay. I’ll put it this way. Do you want to be able to see tomorrow? Cause if you don’t want a swollen eye, or to be limping, ya will turn and fuck off.”

Don’t know what made him think that he would get away with it, but his fist connected with my jaw. Fuck me. I spat out a mouthful of blood. Wiping the blood off with the back of my hand.

Now things got serious.

I smirked, and there weren't many times the bar would go quiet, but when this rookie punched me you could only hear the music.

Autumn stepped in my way. “Babe, don’t.” She batted her long eyelashes at me. Normally I would be a sucker and back down. If he hadn’t of punched me I would have walked away. But now my pride was on the table.

I looked at him with a glint in my eyes. “You fucked up when you punched me. But…” I paused watching his eyes go for the glass bottle. “But you really fucked up when you implied for my girlfriend to drink your come.” And with those words, I tackled him before his hand wrapped around the glass bottle.

Autumn

Cage and his bloody pride. I applied the ice to his knuckles, he flinched from the coldness, scoring a glare from my eyes. He could beat the shit out of that man, but couldn’t take the ice on his knuckles?

He laid his hand down on the bed, leaving the ice on it. While I straddled him.

My hand going under his chin, looking at his cut lip. “You and that pride of yours.” I muttered, and then pecked his sore lips.

I pulled back, only for him to lift his hand to the back of my head, pushing me back to him. I gave his lips another quick kiss. But he was quick to steal my lips again.

I nearly jumped when the coldness of his hand touched my cheek. I scowled at him. Because he was meant to be icing those knuckles. But his lips twitched up, a smirk on his face. As his hands run down my back he flips me. My back sinking into the mattress.

My hands going to his swelling jaw. I swear every weekend Cage was in a fight. I was beginning to wonder if I was the cause of them, or if he just loved to fight.

He sat up, taking his top off, and my eyes ran over his detailed tattooed body. His stomach tattoos were still healing from his session last week with the tattooist.

“Checking me out darling?”

I heard the amusement in his voice. My eyes lift from his dominant and chiselled chest, looking him in the eye. “Just wondering,” I said keeping my expression innocent.

“About?”

“How many times…”

He arched his eyebrows for me to continue.

I go up on my elbows, one of my hands going to his chest. “How many times you imagined taking me out of this dress?”

His expression darkened. “Ripping it, shredding it, unzipping it, peeling it off. Trust me baby girl, I’ve gone through each scenario.” He leaned down, his mouth going to my ear. “You do crazy things to me darling.”

As I stared up at him. I couldn’t help the sharp inhale. “Right back at you baby.” I managed to get out before his lips were back on mine.

Just when I thought we had reached the point of him taking my dress off, he pulls back.

“I’ve got something for you,” he says while reaching over the bedside drawer pulling out a box.

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