Atlas Wolfe
“Harder!” The voice demanded. I did as told.
“f*****g harder!” I rolled my eyes before increasing my force.
“Are you a f*****g p u s s y, Atlas? Is that all you’ve got?” That pissed me off greatly and before I could think of the repercussions of what I was about to do next, it was too late.
My gloved right hand swung to the back for more momentum and in a millisecond, it hit the boxing punching bag with so much force that the man standing behind it to keep it in place flew back, hitting his head on the wall behind him.
“Ow, motherf*cker!” He cursed loudly as I stepped to the side of the bag to look at him.
He had his hand over his shoulder as he stretched it, but his eyes were glued to mine with an angry glare.
“Not that f*****g hard, you d i c k.” He complained.
