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“You’re room’s destroyed.”
“I’ll get another one.”
“You can’t. The Santa Muertes are after you.”
I wanted to say, Santa fuckin’ Muertes my ass! We both know it’s YOU who’s lying, you son of a bitch!
Instead I said, “I’d rather take my chances with them than stick around with the asshole here.”
I moved to get past him –
He grabbed my arm. His hand was like a vise on my slender bicep.
“I won’t let you,” he said.
Ooooh. Shouldn’t have said that.
“You won’t let me?! You can’t stop me, jackass!”
I pulled a Krav Maga and peeled his pinky off my arm, twisted my body, and at the same time let all my body weight go slack.
I don’t care how strong a guy is – when he’s going to get his finger broken and you’re directing force against the weakest part of his grip, he’s going to let go.
Which he did. He swore, then pinned me against the wall with an arm across my chest.
A picture frame rattled a few feet from my head.
Oh, now it’s ON, fucker.
I went for the nuts. Kicked right between his legs.
He twisted at the last second, so I kind of slid up his thigh with my kick. I connected, but not directly, and not nearly with the force I would have liked.
He grimaced – I could tell it didn’t feel good – but then he picked me up and threw me bodily across the room onto the sofa.
My adrenaline shot through the roof.
I rolled onto my back and as he came at me, I kicked outwards. Got him in the gut, then spun off onto my feet.
He rushed me again and did a full-on body-slam against the wall.
WHAM.
It knocked the breath out of me.
I don’t know what it was, but in retrospect, it kind of turned me on, too. In a really dark way.
He pinned my arms up over my head and pressed his body against mine so that I couldn’t move my legs or torso. His hips ground into my hips, his chest against my breasts.
If we hadn’t been in a full-on fistfight, it would have been a very erotic position.
Fuck it. Even though we were in a full-on fistfight, it was still a very erotic position.
He looked down at me with smoldering hatred, beads of sweat running down his face. “You fucking bitch.”
“You stupid, macho shithead,” I spat back at him.
There was this second, this charged moment of electricity where he was scowling into my eyes, and I was glaring into his –
