Page 74 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares
“Okay.” She sat back. “But there are all kinds of microorganisms and bacteria in the ground. Tetanus, staphylococcus, and E.coli, to name a few. Then there are things like fungus and plant toxins…”
“Fine,” I cut her off. “Clean my fucking cut if it will shut you up.”
Not sure why she gave a shit in the first place? Two minutes ago, she was ready to pepper-spray me, and now she was taking care of me. That was the definition of fucked up. She was meticulous though, I’d give her that. Georgia pulled some tweezers out of her kit and went about carefully removing specks of dirt and pieces of gravel from my arm.
I couldn’t help but admire her focus. Given how afraid she was—and she was scared—Georgia remained calm and collected. She sat beside me with one hand on my bicep and her eyes locked on her task.
One thing she couldn’t hide was how tense she was. I could feel that in the way her fingers stiffened on my arm. It reminded me of a child refusing to look at the closet, because if they didn’t acknowledge the monster, then it wasn’t there.
“Something wrong?” I taunted.
“Can you not interrupt me when I have tweezers near an open wound?” she said with a slight quiver in her tone.
She didn’t like my voice either. Let’s see what else she didn’t like.
Gotta say, I enjoyed fucking with her. The twitch in her fingers when I flexed my arm. How her grip slipped on the tweezers when I shifted my leg, and the way her entire body stiffened like a rabbit waiting to bolt when I got too close. That shit made me smirk. But, it was her tiny size that I enjoyed the most.
Georgia was so small she might snap in half if I breathed too hard. Even sitting in the dirt next to me, her head only came to my shoulder. I kept thinking about how easy it would be to throw her around, pin her down, and break her apart. All I would need was one hand. Just one hand to keep her exactly where I wanted her. That thought wouldn’t leave my head.
Then I made the mistake of leaning over and inhaling.
Cherries and vanilla never smelled so good. I wanted to take a bite out of her neck, and I would’ve if she hadn’t chosen that moment to dump rubbing alcohol on my wound.
Pain seared down my arm, effectively killing the images rolling through my mind. “Goddamnit!”
Georgia responded with a muttered, “Stop being a baby,” and continued on with her work.
“That shit hurt.”
She huffed out a sigh. “Well, you were the one who picked a fight for no reason.”
Was she scolding me, and why did I find that hot? I blamed my father and his no jerking off rule for this bullshit. This wouldn’t be a problem if I could fuck someone. Or fuck my hand. But no, I was stuck sitting here with an erection that could cut stone while I silently cursed the man who decided to mix cherries with vanilla.
“You doing okay there, buddy?”
My eyes snapped over to the grin on Ravi’s face. “Eat shit.”
Bastard not only was enjoying the show, but he knew exactly what I was thinking. I needed to get out of here.
“Are you fucking done yet?”
“Almost.” As if her fucking scent wasn’t bad enough, Georgia then blew on my arm.
Her breath washed over my skin, sending a jolt of excitement to my cock. All I could do to fight it was dig my fingers intothe dirt. When that didn’t work, I jumped up onto my feet and stormed away.
“You’re welcome,” Georgia sang after me.
“I didn’t ask for your help.” I flipped both her and Ravi off over my shoulder and left.
Georgia
It had been hours since Issac stormed off, and my hand would not stop trembling. It wasn’t much, just a subtle, persistent tremble that made my fingers stiff and achy, like when I was a kid and hung off the monkey bars until my arms burned.
I tried everything to get rid of it. Shaking it out, stretching my fingers, and cracking my knuckles, yet the tension wouldn’t leave. Neither would the stammer in my heart. My pulse kept skipping as if it couldn’t decide whether I was safe or not.
Was I safe?
My eyes wandered around the room, scanning the patchwork quilt draped over my bed to the picture of Mom on my nightstand, and Gran’s housecoat hanging on the wall next to the bathroom door. All the comforts I needed to feel at home, yet I felt alone and watched. Like a rat in a maze. But was I alone?
