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My name is Matthew Weston. Don't call me anything else, because I won't respond. And if you think you can get away with whimpering ‘Matt’ while I have you tied to the bed, about to devour you, it'll end up being your loss. Men like me don't talk about feelings. We just don't. What men like me do is pound. I pound the asphalt with my running shoes on morning runs. I pound a punching bag in the gym until my knuckles bleed. And when I need a release, I find a beautiful woman sprawled out on her bed, eagerly waiting for my cock, and pound her into oblivion. Yeah, that's me. I don't have feelings, and I don't do love. At least I didn't, until the night Ella walked into my office looking like a disgusting junkie to interview for a position for The Onyx Club. She was like no one I'd ever met before. She was timid, reserved, and quite plain with her mousy brown hair and dirty clothes. Ella also had a dark and haunted gleam in her eye. A secret, a past she was desperate to conceal. And when she called me ‘Matt’ it didn't seem to bother me. She came into my life and turned it upside down. The only question is, can I screw her out of my system, or will my filthy desire for her keep her by my side?