Dont-fuck-with-me

            “No.
You're nervous because mommy’s not just down the hall?” he said, acting smart.

            This Mathew was the one that always
threw me; I didn’t understand his attitude. I turned to face him dead-on, my
legs slightly apart and my feet firmly planted. I flipped back my hair with my
free hand.

            “I’m not nervous to be with you,
shit head. What are you gonna do?” I said, challenging him.

            He smiled and
then took a sip of beer. I was tense. I wanted to be with him. I wanted him to
touch me, kiss me, here was a chance. He watched me while I stared him down. I slowly
raised the can of beer to my lips and took a sip not breaking my lock on his
eyes. He took several swallows, still not breaking our gaze. My body was sort
of stiff, I could feel the tension, and I couldn’t decipher if it was the
don’t-fuck-with-me type or sexual. What
was he thinking? Then he broke it and set his beer down on the counter and
disappeared, returning with his guitar. He finished his beer and grabbed
another.






Erotica Romance Novel               On Amazon