Chapter 8

Bile risesin my throat as that scumbag drops to his knees in front of Ignatius. He better be looking for something he dropped or tying his boot. Those thoughts are shot to shit as soon as his hands drag Ignatius' slacks down and he sucks his cock.

That is my cock!

How dare that filthy biker scum put his hands on my soul mate. Ignatius is mine and has been since I laid eyes on him. I stand at the mouth of the alley behind a dumpster watching as that… that… that felon puts his lips where they don't belong, where only my lips should be.

It takes everything inside of me not to storm over to them and drag my knife across that bastard's throat. Then, as he lays there dying, I'll drag Ignatius to my place and teach him that he belongs to me. Only me. No one else will ever be good enough for him. It's always been us.

This is pure torture, watching them kiss and hearing my man moan as if he's feeling pleasure. I know it's fake because I'm the only one who can bring him to the cusp repeatedly before pushing him over the edge.

I thought watching them shop and flirt at the restaurant was bad enough. But this? This is pure agony, and rage fills my icy veins.

Ignatius will pay for this betrayal. I will have to teach him that I don't like to share.

Reaching into my bag, I rifle around blindly, not willing to stop watching this horror in front of me. Finally, I find what I need and pull out my Nikon camera.

I glance at it briefly to make sure the flash is off before I bring it up to my face and snap a few pictures of Iggie's infidelity happening in front of me. Once I'm happy with what I got, I drop the camera back in my bag.

After Ignatius has been drained of his—or shall I say my—cum, I tiptoe away from my hiding spot and head home to print these pictures.

Time is now of the essence—no more waiting and planning.

Ignatius will be with me where he belongs very soon.