Her Last Bad Boy (3)
This isn’t going like he planned.
‘Cuz there she is, shaggy loins straddling her Welcome mat, the Joelskin already in her belly, pert lil’ hooves rivaling the shine of his very own. The CNN ’s off – as off as off can get, given the two quick fists she’d put through the TV screen. And she’s not buying that line of imp puckey about the hoi-polloi training themselves to ignore unusuals.
“Nice try,â? says the former fleshmount. “We are not going out there. And big mistake fashioning me in your image, dumbass. You crafted yourself a worthy opponent.’â?
“Baby,â? he growls, as best he can. “It was my gift to you—â?
“Consider it returned. And we’re returning, too. Unless you revoke this,â? and here she gestures to her rampant body hair and now-blotchy skin tone, “kind offering, we’re going right back where you came from.â?
“The Pit?â? His rumble of a voice… cracks.
“Damn right, boy toy. There’s no place for me here now. You better have a sweet crib and a phat pay cheque back home in the Third Circle.â?