be done.”
I pin her under me and blow her messy hair from her face. “I love how possessive you are of your little muffin top, but you’re killing my horny buzz.”
“If you’re horny, get off me.”
“You’d have fucked me in the past. How quickly you’ve taken to monogamy.”
Taylor pretends to fall asleep until I finally crawl off her and sit at the end of the bed next to Maude.
“I need a shirt that says I have a lot to offer sexually. It should also be easy to get off.”
“I hope you’re planning to bring a box of condoms,” Taylor says while stretched out on the bed. “And a bleach douche for afterward.”
“I probably will catch chlamydia or the other one. Maybe herpes. I’m not going to stress that.”
Except now as I stand in front of Goliath’s double-wide in the deepest, darkest, and dankest woods in Shasta, I’m very much stressed about my vagina needing medical attention after getting pounded by this giant, slutty man.
The door to the trailer opens, and I stare up into the beautiful gray eyes of a man who crawled under my skin without even trying. Goliath wears jeans and a white sleeveless shirt showing off his tatted arms. He has to move sideways out of the doorway to get his wide shoulders through the narrow opening.
“This won’t end well,” I mutter to myself.
“Huh?”
“Are you alone?”
“Come to kill me, Shelly?” he asks, scanning over my head. “Ya here to draw me out, so your brother can put a bullet in me?”
At least, I think that’s what Goliath said. Since he sounds like a talking bear, I’m forced to guess a few words. Still, I’m fairly sure he used the wrong name.
“If I wanted to kill you, I’d do it myself. Bam, you’re dead,” I say, shooting him with my finger.
Goliath steps down from his trailer, but he still looms over me. His wild, brown hair hangs around his face. He hasn’t shaved in many moons, and I start thinking about how he’ll rub that rough beard against my fragile body.
“Whatcha want?”
“I don’t know,” I say, having second thoughts about letting this powerful, rugged man access to my virgin vagina. What if he goes savage on it, and I end up ruined forever?
“What?” he sneers, stepping closer.
I stumble back over the uneven ground and consider running away like a dumb girl in a horror movie. I can even picture Goliath chasing after me through the woods. I’ll surely trip over something and end up on the ground, where he’ll hack me to death with an ax. No, a machete would suit him better. He’s got a “The Devil’s Rejects” vibe about him. Should I just leave?
“Is this a prank?” he grumbles, and his face scowls in a fierce, I’m-going-to-kill-you way. “How come you’re here?”
“I wanted to make out with you,” I admit. “I wanted to more than make out. I think you’re attractive, but you’re scary, and I’m afraid to get a disease. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but my feelings matter more.”
His scowl takes on a confused flavor. “Huh?”
“I wanted you to fuck me,” I spell out, strongly enunciating each word. A lightbulb goes off in his big handsome head. Yet, I can tell he isn’t reading the room. Rather than notice my unease, he reaches out as if to touch me. I’m forced to take a big step backward. “I can’t, though. I don’t have condoms, and I’m unsure how much they’ll help prevent the diseases you caught from the sweet butts.”
“How do I know you ain’t got a disease?” he grumbles, offended by the insinuation that his dick isn’t surgical-room clean.
“I’m the queen bee of virgins.”
“Huh?”
“I am a virgin,” I say, enunciating each word since I’m not sure if he’s dumb or deaf.
Tapping his head, he smirks. “Ah.”
“Yeah, and I’m afraid you’ll hurt me or leave me diseased or something.”
“Could happen.”
“Which one? Hurt me or leave me diseased?”
Goliath shows me his huge hands. “I hurt people. Why wouldn’t I do it to you?”
“Do you hurt the sweet butts?”
Shrugging, Goliath looks me up and down. “Ask them.”
“I will.”
“Shoulda done that first.”
“No doubt.”
“Now what?” he grunts when I don’t speak.
“I walk away and possibly return at a later date when I’m more certain about the pain and disease thing.”
“My dick’s clean.”
“Doubtful.”
“I got checked when I got my tetanus shot,” he says and shows me his giant left hand where stitches hold the flesh together.
“What happened?”
“Dog tried to kill a little kid.”
I want to imagine this