Aquasteine's pov
"What the fuck are you doing?" I yell, shooting up from the chair. I don't want to lay my hands on her because it goes against every principle my father drilled into me about respecting women, even the annoying ones. Natasha bats her lashes at me, pouting those full lips like she's some innocent doll. "I love you, Aquasteine. Please, fuck me," she says, her voice all breathy and desperate. Her earthy perfume hits me like a thick fog, so intense and cloying it makes my stomach turn. I was almost choking on it.
I stand immediately, forcing her off my lap. My knees twist in the process, sending a sharp jolt of pain up my leg that nearly buckles me. I grab the edge of the chair for support, breathing hard through my teeth. The open wound on my chest throbs under the tank top, sticky blood starting to seep again from all the movement.
