Page 2 of Sip
Idiot. I kick him to his side with my foot and grind the sole of my shoe to his throat while he wheezes and claws at the leather trying to release my hold. My body relaxes while he struggles. I like it when they fight. Although I do have another appointment, so unfortunately, I have to end my fun before I’m ready. It always goes that way. I lean down so he hears me over his gasps and gurgles. “I always get everything I want.”
I dig into his skin until I hear a pop. Lucky to be left alive, he’s going to have one hell of a stiff neck for a while. I salute Hector for his hospitality and release the bastard, letting his bodyguards assist him while I head for the door. Already lifting my face toward the clouds in anticipation of the perfect weather for murder.
One month later
I’ve had my tongue down this bird’s throat and my hand up her dress for at least five minutes, and I still can’t get hard. Nothing she does gets me there. Not her huge fake tits or her hungry urgent moans or her wide plump ass grinding into my crotch. I’m bored and refuse to admit the truth, even to myself. Yet my disinterested cock doesn’t lie. He doesn’t really want her either.
Headlights flash across us for a second before we’re engulfed in darkness again. They’re early. Two more cars climb up the driveway, slowly making their way to the front entrance. My brother must be apprehensive for as much protection as he’s provided for his bride-to-be and future father-in-law.
Although the reprieve is undeserved, I’m claiming the excuse anyway to untangle myself from this awkward situation. I pull my fingers from her dripping cunt and wipe her arousal across her thick thigh. Probably for the best we’ve been halted. I wouldn’t have enjoyed fucking her anyway, if I’d even been able to. I shove her away and smooth down my jacket. Can’t have a wrinkled coat at dinner or Shane will be pissed. I don’t have the patience to listen to him bitch about something new since his old list of grievance is more than long enough. “Sorry but I’ve got to jet. Maybe next time.”
Angry hands slap down on the hood, and she glares at me over her shoulder after the shock wears off.
“You’re just going to leave me out here…alone.”
Unfulfilled she means. Join the club. I have zero sympathy for her. A woman who lets you bend her over the front of your car within twenty minutes of meeting her knows the risks she takes. “Yep, pretty much.”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
Her mouth is as unladylike as her movements when she reaches up to straighten her thong, wiggling to pull the cheap fabric back between her red, round cheeks blazing with my handprints. “Nice language. Not very professional, is it?”
She rolls her dull eyes. “I’m a fucking waitress.”
“Better get to it then.” I pause and turn back to make sure she sees the warning in my expression. Up in her space, I confirm the dim light doesn’t diminish my message. “Don’t play around in there thinking you’ll get me back somehow. You fuck this up and I’ll fuck up more than just your job.”
Fury evaporates into fear, and she quickly nods, brushing down her simple black dress. My threat is a lie— I don’t hit women or mess up their lives, especially for something this inconsequential. She believes me based on who I am and that’s all that matters. All that’s needed for me to stride out nonchalantly without a look back or worry about her disobedience to my demand.
Opposite of my normal demeanor, I hustle to get out of the garage and up to the house. Most of the time my older brother doesn’t give a damn what I do or who I fuck. But tonight is different.
Everything has to go perfectly tonight.
Because of the tiny woman crawling on her hands and knees on our driveway. What in the ever-living fuck? “Grace?”
She startles from my voice and leans back on her heels, staring up at me. Fuck. She was pretty in the photos, but in person she’s unbelievably gorgeous, especially with the huge smile lighting up her flushed face.
“Oh hi!”
She gives me a small wave. Yet, strangely she doesn’t stand, seemingly unconcerned about kneeling on the cobblestone. She also doesn’t appear scared, which is unusual for me. My presence usually provokes sweating and swearing and shitting of bricks.
“You’re Killian, right?”
“What’re you doing, love?”
“Saving the worms.”
Holding up what looks like a squirming pink noodle, she gives me a knowing nod as if her rescuing bugs, or whatever the hell they are, is normal. No wonder this arranged marriage was so easily proposed by her family. She’s nuts, and they’re anxious for someone to take her off their hands. I drop to my haunches so I can inspect my future psycho sister-in-law better. “Why do you think they need your help?”
“The sprinklers are overwatering the lawn.”
Yeah. Sure. Okay then. That clears everything up. Manners would make me stop staring at her, but since I don’t have any, I keep gazing at her attractive yet crazy face. Waiting for more. Hoping for something that will make her less bizarre. Praying my brother really knows what he’s gotten himself into with this lunatic pixie.
She giggles while shaking her head. No denying that her laugh is cute. The realization must set in that I’m totally lost because she points to the slight run off of dirt onto the gray bricks littered with slimy corpses.
“Worms need oxygen to breathe, and when the soil is saturated with water, they can’t get enough so they surface and end up on the ground. Not only is it cruel to kill them, but it wastes water. All we have to do is reduce the flow and build up a barrier to minimize erosion.” She gingerly lays the worm back into the grass with a satisfied smile. “Plus, we’ll keep from having a massacre.”
This—she—can’t be real. But yes, she is serious. And, back on her hands and knees giving me an unobstructed view of her small yet luscious tits as the collar of her modest blue dress sags down while she scoops up more bodies and returns them to the lawn.
“You can help if you want.”
