Wild Bastard by Ella Savitskaya (book suggestions .txt) 📕

I drive my fists into the punching bag flying off in different directions. One punch. Another one. Now with my foot. I exhale noisily and wipe the sweat from my forehead.

I'm fucking pissed. It's fucking killing me. There's a monster inside me. Black and fierce. I want to kill someone.

"Cash, hi" Red's voice sounds friendly from behind me.

I turn around and bump shoulders with him.

"Hi"

"Are you getting ready for a fight?" Alex nods his head at the other guys.

"Yep"

In the morning Backes called and offered a fight with Mitch. Usually the fights are announced several days in advance. Another fighter was supposed to spar today, but he had to drop out due to circumstances beyond his control. I don't know what the circumstances were, but I didn't mind replacing him. I've been in a bad mood since the night before. I need to get it out and smear it on someone's face. Mitch was the right person to be a live punching bag.

"Why are you here?"

The redhead shrugs his shoulders.

"Do you mind?"

"I don't. Thought you was chasing Reenah again, but this time you decided to honour me with your presence"

"What's up, Matt? You're bullshitting me"

I turn away and smack the hanging leather shell. I know I'm just taking out my irritation on him. But I can't get that fucking savage out of my head. Yesterday, after the bitch ditched me by throwing words in my face about not being "interested" in me, I went to Red's place. He was just there with two chicks. He shared one of them generously and fraternally. Only it didn't help shit.

The girl's hair was a stiff brown. Not as dark as it should have been. Her breasts should fit in the palm of my hand, but they were falling out on different sides. Her waist was wider, her eyes the wrong color, and her skin disgusting. It's all wrong. A cheap surrogate in a pretty wrapper. But who am I kidding? Not a damn thing as pretty as a savage bitch.

"Bitch!" I hiss through my teeth as I turn around and kick the bag with my foot.

I got home in the morning, and when I woke up with a bad head, she was gone. I didn't call. It wasn't in my rules to look for someone. When she comes back, we'll talk. I'll show her a "not interested."

Why the fuck lie if it's far from that? If she wasn't interested, she wouldn't drink with me and share with me what I'm sure she hasn't shared with anyone else. I feel like my own faucet opened yesterday. When I saw Evelyn's scarf, I thought I was going crazy.

I miss my sister. It's been a long time, I should have let go by now. But I don't. I remember everything, every little detail, which over time should have been erased and squeezed out under the weight of new events. My memory, however, is an ugly sadist and won't let me forget. Evelyn was someone who knew how to give herself to others. She did. First to my mother and me, and then... then she started giving to everyone around her when she got hooked on drugs.

Only even then I could not hate and condemn her. Because of my age, I was not thinking straight. It was later that I started to put two and two together, but I didn't blame her. Our father never gave any of us the attention we deserved, so she looked for and found it in other men who drove her home. Seventeen fucking years old. Like Lana. Except while Lana didn't even know how to make scrambled eggs, Evelyn was already teaching me how to fight at that age.

I don't know why I told Reenah all this. She seemed to really want to know. The girl obviously cared about Lana. She was so defensive at the bar. Didn't care that there were five freaks. She went after one of them with a knife. Just like she did to me. Small, but strong and confident. I admired her at that moment.

And when she started talking about herself and what she had gone through in the orphanage, I suddenly wanted to erase all those memories from her beautiful head. There was so much pain in her words, so many unshared childhood joys that she had been deprived of. I pulled her to me, and I was drawn in by the roofy scent, the taste. I still remember the sharp nipple on my tongue and the quiet moans filled with desire. My hands were squeezing her slender body, and I couldn't get enough of her. I bit the nipple and watched her head tilted back. I almost didn't cum.

She's so hot and sensual, but so different. Different from the others. From another world. There's no filth or debauchery in her. Although that's the first impression you get of the savage girl. I got the wrong impression, too. I thought she was a cheap whore, but now I know it's not like that. And what I feel with each passing minute, more and more strongly burns.

I shake my head, pushing the memory away, and then I hear Red's voice, causing me to freeze.

"And take Reenah with you then" Red says, throwing me a wary look, "Tonight, yeah. As usual. Where are you now?

The savage's name sticks in my eardrums and makes me frantically rack my brain, framing different possibilities of who she might be with. The redhead often calls everyone he knows before the fight, beckoning for the spectacle. This way he raises my earned winnings, because they all always bet on me and don't make mistakes.

Alex perplexedly moves the phone away from his ear and shoves his smartphone into his pocket. His silence is annoying.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Sergio"

My fists clench involuntarily, and my teeth are about to crack.

"Is Reenah with him?"

The redhead runs an appraising glance at me, trying to figure out what my answer would be. I've never been good at keeping my emotions in check. And he knows it.

"With him"

I throw my head back and exhale noisily. Is he the one she ran to this morning? My temples begin to pound with such force that my brain turns to mush.

"Where are they?"