Page 5 of Ivy’s Poison

Goddamnit. I let her go. Instantly.

Ivy blinked her eyes as if trying to clear her rattled brain. “I guess you remember I like it rough, Champ.”

Peering down at her small frame that I wanted to devour, I grumbled, “What do you want?” I needed to get out of there. I needed to get my thoughts straight, but when she stared up at my mouth as if needing a taste, my brain was overrun by my hormones.

She almost purred, “Do you know how many times I have thought of that growl?”

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you druggin’ my ass?”

She smirked. “Been thinking of me? I’m flattered.” Peering around, she asked, “Where’s that piece of shit truck of yours?”

Here we fucking go again. “It’s a car, you mental institution escapee.”

Ivy ramming her piece of shit Honda into my El Camino was how we met three years ago. I was in Kentucky gathering intel for a job. She, apparently, was still learning how to drive. Of course, I had gotten out of my car to inform the driver he had just damaged my only pride and joy, but I was not prepared for the long, well-moisturized legs that greeted me from under an itty-bitty jean skirt. As my eyes traveled up from the skin shining in the sun, mature hips gained my attention. Then a little waist led up to perky tits. Red hair that had soft hints of purple and pink danced in the breeze, and what came out of the full lips was my downfall… “You stupid dick.”

Cue jaw drop. “What? You hit me, you twat.”

As I said, most women stayed clear of me, but not this nutcase in pink Doc Martins. “That tends to happen when you pull your ugly-ass truck out in front of moving vehicles.”

Stupefied, I gestured to the road I was on and to the stop sign she had just blown through. “Are you on drugs?”

“Might need painkillers due to your shitty driving.”

“Oh, I see. You’re not only mental, but you’re also colorblind, hence not seeing the red fucking sign demanding you stop.” I, again, peered around. “That’s funny. I don’t seem to have one of those.”

She marched to me then peered up, ballsy enough to stick her slender finger in my face. “Listen here, rocks-for-brains, the only thing you got going for ya is you’re sexy as fuck. Otherwise, this conversation would be over.”

Blink. Blink. I had never been referred to as ‘sexy’. “Conversation? No, babe, this is an argument. You’re dumb as fuck. And I had the right of way. See?”

“If I’m so dumb, why do you want between my hungry thighs?”

Mind. Fuck!

The argument, that was really foreplay, eventually led to us driving our damaged vehicles to a hotel room and fucking like mad rabbits on cocaine instead of proper procedure like exchanging insurance information. In fact, nothing was shared except for the best sex of my life.

Now, here she was again, insulting my car. “Don’t you worry about where my ride is.”

She chuckled. “The mechanic told you to put her to rest, didn’t he? Do I need to send flowers to a junkyard?”

My jaw ticked. “Clearly, that’s where your Honda is because I can’t find—” Ah shit.

The damage was done. She clucked her tongue in an all too proud notion. “Can’t find, eh?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

Her finger walked down my chest. “Lies are not nearly as sexy as you once were.”

“Once were? Is that why you drugged me? No longer ‘sexy’?”

She dismissively waved her hand through the air. “Couldn’t have you chasing after me like a lost, horny pup.”

Blink. Blink.

She, honest-to-God, shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Shaking my head to clear more thoughts of hot as fuck sex with Ivy, I said, “Never mind. Again, crazy bitch, what do you want?”

Her expression hardened. “I never knew I’d need to find you.”