Prompted by: Murlene Crowley
The crazy author says: Perhaps my edge has returned a bit. Still much, muuuch duller than Slim & Izzy though…
I battle my way through the sea of sticky, sweaty bodies and locate a free piece of real estate on the disgusting dance floor before I turn around and realize I lost him.
Cringing, I’m about to make my way back toward the bar when my legs are suddenly taken out from under me.
Or rather, by his knees ramming into the side of mine.
He grabs my wrist as I fall, jerking me roughly into his chest. “Watch it, asshole!”
“What the fuck did you…”
The drunken douchebag takes one look at us and shuts the hell up. I can’t tell if it’s because of the chair or the fact that my sexy, tattoo-covered seat can easily pass for a convicted murderer with no qualms about killing again.
Maybe a bit of both.
Or maybe it’s the fact that I just accidently flashed everyone during my unladylike tumble.
Yep, that’s it.
Mr. D-Bags is staring at me. Not anywhere near my face either.
A hand seizes the hem of my illegally short skirt and yanks it down hard. “Don’t think for a second I can’t kick your fucking ass,” the already familiar voice growls, sharpened with a menacing edge that makes me shudder.
In all the right ways.
“The last guy who made that mistake wound up eating through a straw.”
Holy shit, I think he’s serious.
Evidently, our squeaky third wheel shares my gut feeling because his eyes widen as he starts to back away. Slowly. He doesn’t have the balls to make any sudden movements. I suspect he might’ve wet himself.
“Now apologize to my girl.”
“And get out of my sight before I…” He doesn’t need to finish the threat. The pathetic coward’s long gone.
A possessive arm snakes around my waist and I’m drawn even closer. To something undeniable. I yield without hesitation.
“You okay?” he asks.
Nodding, I whisper my own apology into his ear, “I’m sorry too.”
“This was a bad idea.” Obviously.
What’s the prompt for next week, guys?
Make suggestions below. 7 words or less.