She’s a little shorter than average, petite, but has some curves in all the right places.
My cock twitches at the feeling of her soft chest smashed against mine. I keep my hands on her hips, even though she’s not in danger of losing her balance anymore, thanks to my body.
She just said that she won the goldfish at the county fair. That only confirms my hunch that she must have come home with Jamie.
It’s the only realistic option, since Luke bats for the other team, and Connor has been living like a monk for the past few weeks.
At first, he followed Jamie’s lead and fucked anything with a pussy and a pulse. Eventually, he got tired of rebounding after his ex cheated on him.
That’s what women do without fail. They make you believe they love you; they promise you forever and then hop on the next available dick while you’re deployed.
I have to remind myself that women are the devil. Every single one of them, no matter how angelic she might look in a Cove Knights t-shirt that skims the tops of her thighs.
“I wish they didn’t give living creatures as prizes,” I bite out. “It isn’t fair to entrust a life on someone most probably too drunk to keep them safe.”
The woman reacts with an outraged squeal. “That was the best I could do at the moment. I’m gonna get her a proper fish bowl today. If your psycho cat doesn’t kill it first.”
As if feeling called out, the cat in question decides it’s time for another offensive.
“Hey!” the woman screams as claws hit her back, pushing her further into my chest.
“Poonani, stop!” I yell, as water from the glass pitcher sloshes out and hits my bare skin.
“Meeeooowwww!” Poonani bellows, sinking her claws deeper into the woman.
That has the effect of pushing her closer to my chest.
The girl is screaming as my cat doesn’t look intentioned to let go any time soon.
“Quit being so dramatic.” I roll my eyes, stepping back into the kitchen, and turning around to ease Poonani off the stranger’s back. “It’s just a little scratch. Your t-shirt is probably a lot worse off than you.”
“That’s easy to say,” the girl screams. “You didn’t just get clawed by that wild beast.”
She makes the huge mistake of pointing a French tipped finger at us, and Poonani takes it as a hostile act, swatting at the offending finger with her claws.
“Oh my God!” the woman screams. “Stop that possessed animal right now.”
I pet her behind the ears, unable to stop myself from chuckling. “Poonani.”
“What did you just call me?” our pretty stranger seethes. Her eyes narrowed furiously in a glare that would be scary if I didn’t have over one foot and at least one hundred pounds on her.
I can’t help but grin at how offended she looks. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to her.” I pet my cat again, and she purrs loudly against my hand.
The stranger’s pretty lips open in a little surprised o. “What kind of psycho names his cat Poonani?”
Her comment rubs me the wrong way. “The type who knows that women might be pretty, but they’re disloyal, dangerous creatures. Poonani is the only pussy I can trust.”
That little “o” widens at my words, and there’s one thing I would like to fill that mouth with. Instead, I have to deal with her offended reaction.
“That’s the most disgusting, most chauvinistic thing I’ve ever heard.”
Whatever. Unfortunately, I speak from experience. “The truth hurts, huh?” I smirk.
“You’re such an asshole!” She bites out.
Poonani really doesn’t care for her tone, and she hisses in warning. “If I were you,” I challenge her. “I’d watch my mouth. Or next time, I might let Poonani have her way with you and your fish.”
She clutches the pitcher closer to her chest. “Don’t worry, Lady Marmalade, I’m not gonna let this Neanderthal and his psycho cat hurt you. Don’t you have something better to do than scare my poor goldfish?” She asks with a scathing glare.
