Do it, motherfucker. Hit me. I puff out my chest, hoping his drunken a*s does it.
Weston narrows his eyes, then raises his arms. He swings at me, grazing my cheek enough to feel, but it barely makes a dent as I step back slightly.
“Bad idea, fuckface.” I lift my hands before he can even register it. My fist connects with his jaw, causing an ear-piercing c***k. It should’ve knocked him out flat on his a*s, but somehow, he only stumbles. When he regains his footing, it’s as if he snaps like a crazed psychopath. His pupils are full of rage, and he transforms from human to monster in seconds. I allow him to swing at me again, but he misses when I move. He tries again, but then I throw another punch. This time, my fist smashes into his nose, and Weston releases a strangled cry as he curls dow
