The Babysitter

18

𝗥𝗢𝗬𝗖𝗘

I lost it. I lost my fucking mind when I came home and she wasn't there. Thanks to Valerie, who informed me she had gone out, I had to conduct my own investigation to find her. And when I discovered where she was, I fucking lost it. Her? With her best friend at a drug dealer's house? Hell no.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me, a hint of fear in them.

"Do you know that bad girls get punished, little one?" A smirk followed my words.

"What do you want me to do? Huh? Punish you? Spank your ass row until it's fucking red that you can't sit anymore on it?" My voice dripped with venom with each word.

My hand meets her neck, and I gently push her towards the wall, her breaths ragged, her face red like a tomato. She's scared.

"Now tell me, little one, what do you want?" I burry my head between her neck.

I was craving to smell her. Touch her. Eat her. Fuck her like no one ever did. And no one will do.

I don't care what people say, I don't give a shit. This girl was mine. Even if I can't have her, she's still mine. No man, no fucking man in this world can have her, smell her, see her, touch her, kiss her, fuck her. She was mine. And I don't like to share what's mine.

Yes. I'm selfish when it comes to her. I'm everything.

I couldn't control myself anymore. We were in her room. The door closed, her with panting breaths, and me between her neck. I sucked slowly on it, and she gasped. A sweet gasp. It was something I wanted to hear every second, every minute, every day and night.

"Royce," something flickered inside me. It woke my senses up, and I pushed myself away from her.

I turned my back, leaving her there, and went out of the room. I need to take my anger out on something. And there was one thing.

I make my way to the room, where I train, and I do kickboxing.

As I stand before the punching bag, my fists clenched tightly, and I can feel the tension coursing through my veins like wildfire.

With each punch, I let out my frustration on the punching bag, the sound of my knuckles hitting it echoing in the room. The steady thud of my punches fills the air, giving me a sense of relief from my emotions. Sweat drips down my face as I keep hitting the bag. Each punch feels like a way to stand up against the things I felt earlier from everything that happened. With every hit, I feel a bit better, like I'm slowly getting rid of the frustration inside me.

"Fuck," I let out a small scream as I hit the last punch.

I should return back to my office. Everything is so mixed up. From Tate, to work, to everything. Work has been so hard lately. I can't tell why I'm so stressed. Plus, I have a bad feeling about Melissa. Something is wrong. I can tell.

I take off the boxing gloves, grab my bottle of water, and go out from here. I was already sweating, and small beads of water were on my forehead. My body tensed, and all sweaty. Even my damn hair.

I took a large sip from the bottle and walked to my room. I'll have a quick shower, and then I'll go back to work. Today, we should stop by and sell some drugs. I already know something will happen because every time this happens.

● ● ●

I step out onto the gritty streets, flanked by my two trusty bodyguards, Enzo and Miguel. The weight of the product presses against my chest, hidden beneath my jacket. With every step I take, my heart pounds with a mix of anticipation and caution. Not that I'm nervous - I've done this hundreds of times; it's become routine.