Murph shakes his head. “You never listen.”
“Murph, I swear.” He looks me in the eye. “One more thing,” a puzzled expression crosses over his features and I continue, “You tell Joe about this and I promise that every guy in this bar will know your middle name.” Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.
His face reddens. He clenches his jaw and forces out, “You wouldn’t.”
I give him a serious look that says, Oh wouldn’t I? I never thought Murph would rat me out to Joe, but he did. Whether his intentions were decent or not, he ratted me out to my trainer, and I want to let him know that I can play the same game.
“Fine,” he mutters and cracks his knuckles. “This is your one free-bee.”
A brilliant smile curls on my lips and I nod at him. Now all I need is to find a broad.
The bell on the bar door jingles. Three girls walk in and the tall, tan blonde in the center catches my eye.
Short black mini skirt.
Toned legs for days.
Bingo.
She casts a glance in my direction and flirtatiously bats her eye lashes. I nod at her, taking my bottom lip between my teeth before flashing her a cocky smile.
Hello, sweetheart.
You’ve just met your worst nightmare.
Or your best wet dream.
I think she’ll look real nice in my bed.
Naked and sexy.
Her legs spread eagle.
Sprawled out on her back.
She mingles with her friends for a moment, never taking her eyes off me, then all three of them make their way over to the booth.
And the whole time she’s walking over I’ve got this image running through my mind about what her face might look like as I’m slamming her into the head board of my bed frame.
I wonder if she’s kinky.
Or if she likes it rough.
Or if she’s one of those chocolates and flowers type of broads.
I don’t do chocolates and flowers type of broads.
I rake my tongue between my teeth and slide over on my side of the booth. Her friends wander over to the bar to order drinks. I’m wearing a cut off t-shirt and her wide brown eyes center on my bicep. “Ohhh,” she giggles. “I love your tattoo.”
“Tattoos,” I correct her, but she doesn’t seem to care or hear me.
She traces the tribal design that starts at the top of my shoulder blade and ends at my elbow. Her fingers slide up my neck and she brushes her fingertip against my labret piercing. “Sexy,” she breathes as she touches the metal ball. “Did that hurt?” Her voice is soft but sultry.
No sweetheart, it didn’t hurt.
But I’m about to hurt you.
Real good.