Page 12 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares
“I will fucking hurt you, Ravi.”
I was too tired for this shit. Was it too much to ask for two more hours? I blamed that meddling blonde bitch for this. Who the fuck just walks into an office? She could’ve turned around and walked away. Most people would’ve. But no. She took a fucking picture. And why wasn’t the door locked? That part was on Ravi.
“Come on, Issac.”
My desire to hurt her was almost as strong as the drive to knock out the prick who wouldn’t let me sleep.
“Don’t make me break the door down,” Ravi threatened.
“Fucking try it,” I dared him.
“Alright,” he sang. “I’m coming in.”
Ravi’s version of kicking a door open didn’t involve any actual kicking. There was no violence at all. Only the soft clicks of a lock being picked. Thirty seconds tops, and he’d be in here, dragging my ass out of bed. And that was only because I’d invested in a high-quality lock.
“Ugh,” I groaned, rolled over, and threw a pillow over my head.
That was when I felt something on my chest.
What the fuck?
Peeking out from under the pillow, I looked down at a hand with navy-painted nails resting on my chest.
Who the hell was in my bed?
One roll of my head to the right answered that question.
Lying beside me, with her eyes closed, was a brunette. She looked good and used, and judging by the smell of sweat and sex coming off us, I had a good idea who used her.
My eyes ran over her hair splayed out in tangles on the pillow, down to the mascara streaked on her face, and back up to a fake eyelash that had lifted and was hanging off one of her eyelids.
Disgust curled in disdain.
That tiny strand of fine hairs, reminded me why I hated the bitches in this place. All the dyed hair, make-up, and hair extensions were false advertising. Natural beauty was lost. Just once, I’d like to see a chick without all that crap. There was, however, one thing she couldn’t fake.
Lifting the blanket, I scanned her naked body.
Not bad, I guess. She could use some more in the tits department, and a few more curves, but at least she had curves. She was pretty, but not very memorable. If it weren’t for the empty condom wrapper on the bedside table, I wouldn’t recallfucking her. The lack of sleep might’ve had something to do with that.
Normally, I didn’t bang random girls, but I ran into her while out for a late-night walk and thought, Why not? She was ready to go and there. I didn’t remember inviting her to spend the night, and I certainly didn’t agree to this cuddling bullshit.
Brushing her arm off me, I tapped her cheek with my palm. “Wake up…”
What the fuck is her name? Stacy? Mary? Blair? Fuck it, who cared.
“Hey,” I said louder. “Get the fuck up.”
The only response I got was a few sleepily mumbled words.
Huffing out a sigh, I pressed my palm on her shoulder and shoved her off the mattress.
She let out a yip and tumbled off the side of the bed as Ravi strutted in.
His brow lifted at the muttered, “Oof,” and “What the fuck,” that came from the floor.
“Did I interrupt something?”
Yeah, my sleep.
