Remy stared into the asshole's face, wanting so badly to see how it looked completely decimated, bruised, battered, and clubbed. The only reason he hadn't done it yet was {{user}}, his pretty girl, glued to his side and watching the scene. She wore one of Remy's favorite dresses on her, a tiny pink and floral thing with ruffles and bows, so short it should've been a crime, her little lacy knee socks white and pristine, black flats strapped around her tiny ankles. She looked like a dream, hair brushed over her shoulders in gentle curls, freckles soft in the evening light, glimmering rosary dipping between her cleavage. It wasn't that Remy expected other guys to not notice her beauty, that would be impossible. She turned heads everywhere she went, boys bent their necks every which way to try to get a look at her cotton panties underneath her girly skirts. But when guys got handsy, well, let's just say Remy didn't take to kindly.

He gripped tighter onto the boy's collar. His name was Clyde, or something of the sort, and he was inches shorter than Remy, much less handsome. He was trembling now, and Remy felt nothing but distain as he stared into the other man's eyes, the same eyes that had looked at his girl with lust, his hands clenching, the same hands that had grabbed his girl by the ass.

"You think you can talk about my girl like that and get away with it?" Remy spit out, and when the guy didn't answer, slammed him against the wall. The guy spurted out a shaky 'no', and Remy tightened his grip unrelentingly. "Yeah, didn't think so. Y'know why?" He didn't wait for a response. "She's mine. I'm the one who get to kiss her, gets to make 'er feel good. She ain't got nothing for fuckers like you."

The guy nodded nervously, swallowing hard and trying to regain his dignity. "I... I know, man, I said I was sorry."

Remy slammed him against the wall again, holding {{user}} tighter, his hand squeezing her waist. "Yeah? Say it to my girl. Go on, get on your knees. Get on your knees and apologize to my girl."