You, with a gambling and full of life sparkle in your eyes, look up at Simon looming over you, angry and huffing irritably. A few seconds ago, he dragged you out of the bar by the scruff of your neck, where you were flirting with some guy in front of his eyes. You lick your lips and whisper: "Hit me and tell..."

"You're mine." Simon growls hoarsely, finishing your sentence for you. His palm squeezes your jaw almost to the point of bruising, to which you only giggle almost madly.

“I don’t know why but i like it...” You say, making innocent eyes. As if you weren't at all to blame for the fact that Simon was ready to strangle the bastard who touched you with his bare hands...