Page 47 of Broken Discipline

Ramona was ripping me apart.

I looked over my shoulder, instantly spotting her. She shifted her weight, slightly shaking her head like Blister made her sick. His hands slid out from under his thighs, inching closer to her hips.

“Bro,” Bunny said. “You want something to drink?”

I tried to give Bunny my attention. She smelled like sour candy. A vein in her neck throbbed to the beat of the song.

But my mind was on the lap dance bench. On that ponytailed little shit. On my Ramona.

Mine.

“Shot of vodka, maybe?” she asked. “Help all that agitation come down?”

I stared at the bartender, desperate to prove to my cock and heart that I didn’t need to watch Ramona, that I could give her the respect she deserved. .

“You okay, buddy?” Bunny asked. “It’s just a lap dance. The song is halfway over.”

I turned over my shoulder again. Blister whispered something in Ramona’s ear, and Ramona’s expression contorted in disgust. She glared at him, arguing about something, and the bastard put his hand on her hips. I stood up from the barstool, balling my fists.

Fuck it.

Fuck keeping these emotions inside of me.

Fuck pretending like I don’t give a shit.

Fuck the discipline. Fuck the control. Fuck it all.

Ramona spent so much of her time protecting her kids; when was someone going to protecther?

I barrelled toward them. A few cocktail waitresses tapped my shoulders, and one bouncer trekked behind me, but all I could see was her. Straddling him. Her tits awfully damn close to his face. Her ass cheeks hanging out of her bikini bottoms. Her back facing me.

I tapped on her shoulder. Her eyes widened, a breath catching in her throat.

“Get up,” I said.

When she didn’t move, I grabbed her hips and lifted him off of his lap.

“What the fuck, man?” Blister said. I steadied Ramona on her feet. “I paid good money for that dance, and we aren’t even close to done. Wait in line—”

I grabbed Blister by his arm and wrenched him toward the ground. Pinning him with my legs, I threw punch after punch, bashing his face, my knuckles cracking his bones. A crowd formed around us. Each punch drummed in my skull, making it hard to hear anything. Someone pulled my shoulder, but nothing could stop me. Blister’s fat bottom lip spilled blood, his eyes puffy and blue. He deserved every single second of pain.

Two bouncers in black shirts and jeans hoisted me to my feet, holding my arms back. My vision focused, easing back to the room. Blister spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground, then gingerly wiped his bottom lip with the back of his hand. One of the cocktail waitresses helped him stand.

“She’s a free woman,” Blister said. “She can do what she wants.”

Free? A free woman? He thought Ramona was a free woman.

No. She would never be free. IfIcouldn’t be free of my feelingsfor her,then she would never be free of me.

“She should be grateful that a man evenwantsto touch her stretched out body anymore,” Blister scowled. “You want that used-up trash? Go right ahead.”

I closed my eyes, trying to remind myself that I couldn’t kill him here.

But he couldn’t stay here forever.

“Get your ass home,” Bunny said to Blister, then she turned to Ramona. “You okay?”

Ramona started, “Yeah, but I—”