#lakay

"Whores taught me a few tricks over the years. Maybe you got a few ones up your sleeve too, Miss Jones. You're the sort of girl boys would like to fuck around with for a little while, but not the sort men would wanna marry and have kids with."

The hurt was unexpected. She felt like she'd been shot. He smirked like he knew. 

"Fuck you," she said and marched towards the door. 

When her hand touched the handle, Micah's palm slammed the door shut above her shoulder, and as she twisted around, he pinned her against it. God, he was bigger up close. All muscle except for that beer belly, poking at her own slighter one. His breath stunk of the whiskey they'd stolen. His teeth were really ugly. His eyes, not so much. 

"I ain't the sort to marry," he said, lips too close to hers. "So you're my sort of girl, okay? I don't fuck virgins like some stupid fucking Christian. I like whores."

"Let me go, you prick," Karen said, testing his hold. 

"Nah." He tightened his grip, then loosened it, barely. "I think you like struggling, so you can pretend at chastity. You can choose if I'll fuck you here against this door, or if you wanna come back to bed... or the third option: say nothing at all, and I'll make the choice for you. How's that sound? You can blame me all you want, pretty thing."

Did he never shut up? She sure did. Lips pressed as tightly together as her legs. 

He laughed, a low and raspy sound, "Really, Karen? You're that easy?"