Ruined: Loving An Alpha Male(60)

I kissed her again. “Thank you, baby. But you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Come on, tell me what you said.”

“Oh, alright. I just told him that you belonged to me now.”

She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “You had to have said something far worse than that.”

“Okay,” I admitted. “I told him that I had already fucked your tight pussy so hard that, if he tried to fuck you, his little, pencil-ass dick probably would just fall out. Then I added for good measure, ‘Yea, she told me’…I’m paraphrasing, mind you.’”

I tried to hide the shit-eating grin on my face, but I was failing miserably.

“I can’t believe you told him that.”

She looked stunned.

I shrugged.

“Well, you said I was a macho-male sex God. What did you expect?”

She growled at me and then dove at me, making me fall back. Her lips were on mine instantly, and I continued my strategy of ruining her—just for me.

As time went on, Maxine started to heal inside and out. She went back to work, and I fought the urge to become her shadow. I knew Travis wouldn’t try to contact her. I knew what kind of damage I did, and it was all internal. I busted him up to the point that for weeks he was still pissing blood. I had meant every word of what I said I would do to him. I even had the place picked out to follow out my plan of a lifetime of torture.

When I finally made my way back to the gym, the guys all stopped what they were doing to watch me. Some came up to me and congratulated me. Others just watched me; appraising me. They knew I was now champion—so to speak—and they would have to fight me sometime during the summer. Some of the guys I actually liked, so I would probably go easy on them and let them tap out. But the others that I didn’t care for too much, or the ones that gawked at Maxine’s ass all day, I would show no mercy.

Maxine and I have stepped up our relationship drastically. When she comes to the gym, she comes right over to me and kisses me without me asking. She would stay around me and even stretched me right before she would help Stephen. Since we weren’t holding back, I made sure to fondle her every chance I got in front of Lou, Alex, and whoever else was watching. I took care to let everyone know who she belonged to.

When we went to my fights, she sat in my corner. When it was my turn to fight, I’d kiss her before I went in the cage. You can imagine I got a few fighters who made jokes about it or who told me what they were going to do to her. But that ended really quickly when I destroyed them. I mean, I was extra specific with it; theatrical even. I would use the cage to partly climb up it and throw a punch or a kick, sort of what I did to Travis. The crowd loved that shit, and it was embarrassing for my opponent.

What started to irritate me was when Max performed with Mimi and the girls. When she was half dressed and dancing seductively on stage, I couldn’t control myself. I would follow her backstage and fuck the shit out of her up against somebody’s wall or on any convenient flat surface. She turned me on that much.

She was my guilty pleasure, my heroin, my kryptonite. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I found myself telling her everything I could about myself, which told me how she has gotten under my skin. I never talk about my life or myself in-depth, but I find myself spilling my guts to her.

One Sunday night, we were lounging around my living room listening to Pandora, when I got a message on my cell that my brother was trying to Skype me. Maxine hasn’t met Marcus yet. Most of the time when he and I spoke it was in some business meeting, or she wouldn’t be around.

I was upstairs for a minute, and I called him.

“What’s up, bro?”

“Nothing much. It’s just that we haven’t really spoken to each other in a few days. It’s always me being the mediator between your father and brother-in-law.”

For the past few weeks, we still have been arguing back and forth about a few investment opportunities that I wanted to buy into. But they were opposed and tried to fight me about them. They didn’t have a leg to stand on, mind you. It was all for show because I shot down their big Bernstein project.

I chuckled.

“Well, if you would just tell the bastards they don’t run shit like I do, you wouldn’t have to be the mediator.”

“Come on, Mace. They have made some money for the business.”

My brother is the level-headed one. As you can imagine, I’m not like that.

“Uh-huh…Well…”

He cut me off. “What is that? Can you turn down your radio? I didn’t know you were a Beyoncé fan.”

I started to chuckle.

“Well that, my brother, isn’t the radio. And that wasn’t Beyoncé.”