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He laughs. “What, you think I’d drug it or something?”
“Yes,” I say simply, and his smile fades.
“Well, I haven’t. See?” He puts the bottle to his lips and tips his head back like he’s drank some when it’s obvious he hasn’t. He slides the bottle to me.
“Look,” I say, leaning closer so he catches a glimpse of my chest. “Why don’t we cut the small talk? You clearly want a fuck, so just ask me straight.”
“Is that what you want?”
I nod, and he grins. “Bring the drink,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me to a back entrance. I grab both bottles, making sure the drugged bottle is closer to him, so I give him that one. We get outside, and I roll my eyes. It’s a back alley, so predictable.
“I never met anyone as forward as you,” he says, unbuttoning his jeans. I lean back against the wall and hold out the drink. He hesitates, and I smile. “This one was mine,” I say, holding it up. “You drank some, right?” He takes his drink and places it on the ground. “Come on, we need to drink if we’re gonna get through this,” I say, picking it back up and handing it to him. He sighs impatiently, and to placate him, I rub his cock through his jeans. He relaxes, grinning again before downing some of the beer.
He’s almost half a bottle down when he frowns and suddenly pulls it away, spitting out a mouthful. “You gave me the wrong bottle,” he snaps, wiping his tongue like that’ll work.
I laugh. “I don’t know what you mean. Didn’t we have the same?”
“Let’s just get on with this,” he snaps, shoving his jeans down and fisting his erection.
I raise my brows. “There’s not much there,” I say, tipping my head to one side and eyeing his small cock. “I mean, I could maybe do something with it but . . .” I shake my head, “Actually, I can’t. It’s way too small.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your cock,” I say, nodding at it. “It’s not big enough.”
He narrows his eyes, rage filling him. “Get on your fucking knees, bitch, and I’ll show you how big it is when you’re choking on it.”
I throw my head back laughing. “Does that work on others? Do they actually get on their knees and pretend to enjoy your tiny penis?”
“Bitch, I swear, you’ll fucking—”
“Pay?” I finish for him, grinning. “You’re probably right, it would feel like a payment if I was to put that anywhere near my mouth. Nope, I mean charity, not payment.” I fold my arms. “Now, let’s rewind to the start. When you got the bottles of beer, you fucked up. No woman will willingly take a drink you bought in advance. It screams date rape. And for the record, you weren’t very discreet back there. I saw the whole thing.”
He puts his cock away, fastening his trousers. “Fuck you,” he spits and then suddenly grabs onto the wall for support.
“Are you alright there? You look a little drowsy.” I smirk as he leans against the bricks and closes his eyes. “And when you gave me your real name, that kind of made it weird. You either don’t give a shit if you get caught or you were planning on making sure I couldn’t tell anyone. Were you going to kill me, Scott?”
He mumbles something, shaking his head. I take his beer bottle and hold it to his lips. He tries to shake me off, but he slides down the wall instead, losing his balance. I grip his face and tip his head back, pouring the liquid down his throat. He chokes, spitting some out but swallowing the rest. I unfasten his jeans, retrieving his flaccid cock and taking out my pocketknife. “Now, I’m letting you off lightly because not only are you getting to walk away from this, but you’ll also not remember the pain. Thank the lord for date rape drugs, yay,” I say, smirking as I hack away at his lump of flesh.
“Do I wanna know?” comes Albert’s voice, and I smile to myself. He’s keeping tabs on me.
I turn to him, holding up the severed penis. “Did you know, some people keep this sort of thing as a trophy?”
He screws up his face in disgust. “I doubt many people go around cutting off men’s penises,” he says dryly.
“He doesn’t deserve one. He was using it for bad things.” I drop it in a nearby storm drain, smiling when I hear the plop as it hits the water.
“Mav called. He couldn’t get hold of you. Someone is at the clubhouse looking for you.”
“At one in the morning? Did he say who?”
Albert shakes his head and moves closer to the guy. “Is he dead?”
“No. He should live, so he can think about why this happened to him.” Albert hands me a handkerchief, and I take it gratefully to wipe my hands.
I offer it back, and he shakes his head. “Keep it.”
ALBERT
