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I wasn’t a man to be messed with.
Over the years, I’d made sure to build a reputation that everyone feared. I killed without mercy. Crude Hill may be home to monsters and thugs. I was worse than all of them. I was a fucking beast.
I didn’t need a reason to kill. I did it purely because I wanted to.
Without mercy.
For fun.
I traded in lives for cash, and I reveled in it. Watching men and women fall for the first strip of human flesh. What I did made me sick. To many, I was probably the worst kind of person to ever live, but I didn’t care.
Life was a game, and I loved to play it.
All I’d ever demanded was truth, loyalty, and the knowledge that when the time came for me to take a woman, she’d be untouched.
Ashley was that woman.
No man had even had the pleasure of kissing those full, plump lips.
I couldn’t wait to tutor her. To have her kissing me. The idea of training her to accept my touch, to learn to fuck me exactly how I liked, well, it certainly made my dick rock-hard.
Sipping at my drink, I saw her glance at her own glass but refuse to actually take it.
Stubborn woman.
The position I was offering her was something most women would jump at. I’d had many women who worked for me beg to service me. They craved to be at my mercy. Of course, they’d experienced many a fat cock in their body, and I didn’t have an interest in sharing.
I was a selfish, greedy bastard. A hypocrite. I was far from a virgin myself. All in the form of entertainment, I’d done some degrading stuff just to amuse myself with how far I could push a woman.
When it came to Ashley, she would never know a man’s touch. Never feel another’s cock inside her body. Every single part of her would belong to me. She would be my ultimate possession.
Mine.
“This is a joke.” She stood up and swayed a little.
The clothing she wore wasn’t designed to take this level of heat. I reached for her, but she swatted my hand away.
“Don’t touch me.”
I gripped her shoulders. No one told me what to do. I forced her to take a seat and snapped my fingers at the woman holding a tray of fruit. After taking some pieces off the platter, I pressed them to Ashley’s mouth.
“Open, or I force you to eat. Either way, I’m not having you die on my fucking watch. I’ve got too much shit to do, Ashley.” The Monsters would cause me a great deal of problems if they found out Ashley had died. I had no interest in killing her.
She glared at me.
So sexy. So defiant. I loved it.
The last thing I wanted was a woman who was scared of me, practically shaking in the corner like a terrified little puppy. I needed the fire. The passion. Ashley was seething with it, and I relished it.
Give it to me.
She opened her lips, and I slid a piece of papaya into her mouth. The fruit was succulent, juicy. I only had the best. Her eyes closed and a little moan escaped. Another part of her I adored was her love of food. I’d watched her at supermarkets, farmer’s markets, the way she appreciated good things.
We were more equally matched than she could realize.
After she’d eaten several pieces of fruit, I instructed one of my men to order her breakfast with my cook.
Once I snapped my fingers, they were gone, leaving me alone with her.
She wiped at her brow.
“Remove your clothes.”
Her hands went to her neck.
“No.”
“You’re hot, tired, and hungry. We’re not going to a cold climate for some considerable time. Remove your clothes.”
She shook her head.
I pulled a blade from the back of my pants and flicked it open, the tip glinting in the sunlight. “Either you take them off, or I do.”
She stood up, and her hands shook as she wriggled out of her pants. The items the restaurant had her wearing were pitiful. They did nothing for the curves she possessed. Full hips, a curved stomach, and juicy thighs that were meant to circle a man’s waist. Her skin was pale from the lack of sun, and in a moment, she stood before me in her gray underwear, her hands trying to cover herself.
Her cheeks were a nice shade of red, and she kept chancing looks at the men who had turned their backs.
I noticed one of the women who stood waiting to serve us giving her the stink eye. I snapped my fingers and signaled it was time for her to leave. If she could not show respect to my woman, then she didn’t have a right to be on my yacht. There were plenty of other jobs waiting for her, far less pleasurable.
