Patchwhore(7)

By: Kim Jones



“You good to drive?” he asks, his face so achingly close to mine I can feel his breath whisper across my lips. It smells like me. My cheeks flush.

“Are we … um…” My gaze drops to his lips. “Through?”

Placing his finger under my chin, he lifts my head until our eyes meet. Thoughtfully, he studies me. Meanwhile, all I can think about is how that same finger was inside me only minutes ago.

“One bad decision ain’t worth a lifetime of regret.” His brow furrows a moment before he laughs it away—shaking his head in disbelief. “There’s something good about you, Carmen. And it’s fuckin’ with my game.” His playful smile doesn’t match the bemusement in his eyes, which confuses the shit out of me. “Whenever you’re over that piece of shit, you know where to find me.” He straightens, forcing me to lock my knees to keep from falling. Unsure of how to respond to that, I smile tightly and step around him.

I pause at the door. I don’t know if I’m ready to face what’s waiting on the other side. Or rather, who’s waiting on the other side. I quickly search the room for a window and find Mr. Delicious leaning against the wall smirking at me.

“Only one way out, babe.”

“I know that,” I snap. His grin widens. “And for your information, I am over him.”

“Sure you are.”

“No, really. I am.”

“If you say so.”

I really wish he’d quit smiling. It makes him appear cocky. And sexy. And edible. “Maybe I can just wait him out.” At my suggestion, he pushes off the wall and saunters toward me.

“Or…” He towers over me—twirling a lock of my hair with his finger. That finger. “You can remember the reason you’re in here.” Pushing my hair behind my ear, he dips his head. That wicked tongue lazily strokes my lobe before he pulls it between his teeth. “And who knows?” His hand slips beneath my coat—his fingers easily sliding between my folds before they’re thrust inside me. A low moan builds from deep in my belly. “Maybe he’ll have the balls to say something to me. And when he does…” Fingers leave me and I let out a grunt of disapproval.

He straightens and I watch as he shoves the two digits soaked in my juices between his lips, licking them clean before saying, “I’ll make sure he’s close enough to smell the sweet scent of your pussy on my breath.” Dropping his voice, he adds, “I bet it smells better than his.”

It takes a moment for me to recover from the sight of him sucking his fingers. Then, as I replay his words, I’m sobered by the reminder of what got me here in the first place. I breathe out a thanks for the much needed kick to my lady nuts.

With more confidence than I thought I had, I unlock the door and come face to face with Jud. Just as I predicted, he’s seething with rage. “What the fuck, Carmen?”

“What?” I ask, my tone dripping with innocence. It pisses him off further. Good.

“Seriously? Everyone in here heard you getting banged like some cheap slut.” He looks over my shoulder. I fight the urge to turn and gaze at Mr. Delicious myself. Knowing if I did, I’d find him smiling.

Instead, I point to Clarissa who stands with her arms crossed beside Jud, clearly pissed that he’s so pissed. “So it’s okay for you to dry hump that bitch in front of everyone, but when I do it I’m a slut?” I let out a disbelieving laugh. The audacity of this jerk…

He motions with his finger between the two of them. “We’re a couple, Carmen.” It’s then I notice the patch she’s wearing. Something about being his property. How friggin’ ridiculous…

“Well you sure as hell weren’t a couple when you screwed her four months ago.” I motion with my finger between me and him. “We were. But not anymore. So I’ll be doing whatever, whoever, whenever I want.” Feeling brave, I close the two feet between us until we’re nearly nose to nose. “Get used to seeing my face, baby. Because I’m about to make your life a living hell.”

Before he has a chance to respond, I lose myself in the throng of people crowded around for the show—ignoring his demands for me to stop. And the demands that I stay the hell away from here.

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