Page 39 of EX

I’m dragging him to hell.

I just hope he gets good cell service to watch porn on his phone.

I sitin the main chair in the office with my feet up on the desk.

My hands behind my head, fingers interlocked, and I’m just waiting.

I’ve decided to play with my Katie girl just a little.

I want a picture of her left tit. Right now. I don’t care where she is or what she is doing.

Right. Fucking. Now.

If she doesn’t listen to me, then I’ll have no choice but to find her and rip her fucking shirt off.

My phone vibrates on the desk and I smile.

I look at my phone and there’s a message from my Katie girl.

A picture attached.

Her right hand pulling down the left side of what looks like a red and orange sundress. A strapless bra pulled down too, revealing her left tit. Her sweet tit. Not big at all but far from what assholes like me would call amosquito bite. My beautiful Katie girl is a solid C cup. Maybe a little less. But who the fuck cares, right? Her tit is beautiful and perfect and now I’m licking my lips. Her button-like nipple is gently tight. She’s turned on by my request. And it’s obvious she’s not at home either.

Dinner with the fiancé?

I need to know.

There’s a noise from inside the garage and I swing my feet off the desk and I stand up, then crack my knuckles.

My Katie girl responds.

Yes.

I smile.

She’s out to dinner with the man she’s agreed to marry and she’s excused herself to the bathroom to pull her dress and bra down and take a picture of her left tit to send to her criminal ex.

It’s so slutty and brilliant.

I tuck my phone into my pocket and walk into the garage to find Mutt getting his ass beat.

Three guys have Mutt on the ground and they are kicking him.

I shake my head and casually walk toward one of the workbenches and find myself a decent sized wrench.

Then I walk toward the beating going on and swing the wrench, hitting one of the guys upside the head.

The thud of the wrench against his skull makes me jump for a minute.

The other two guys stop kicking my stupid cousin and they look at me.

Without hesitation they reach for their guns.

I mean, of course they have guns. They’re street level scumbags looking to come get their cars full of heroin so they can distribute as necessary.

There’s just one problem.

The cars don’t have any heroin in them.