Darksoul by Eveline Hunt

polka-dotted bra my mom got me on my last birthday. My lips parted in confusion. Then, realizing what was going on, I clenched my teeth. “What,” I ground out, struggling against his hold, “do you think you’re doing?”
    He leaned down, his eyes falling to my mouth. “What every guy in my position would’ve done.”
    I turned my face, and his lips brushed my cheek. “I’m a potato! You do not want to do a potato!”
    “My body is saying otherwise.”
    “Damn it, Hunter.” I struggled against his grip on my wrists. Tried to move my legs so I could kick him where it hurt. “I know you’re just fucking with me—”
    “Poor choice of words.”
    “I’ve known you for a week . Shit does not happen after just a week.”
    “In my world it does.” He slid closer and let his lips flutter to my neck. I squirmed again and tried to twist out of the way, but he landed a kiss on my throat and, horrorstruck, I grew still. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured.
    My mouth went dry. “I know you’re kidding,” I said. “I’m not your type. You—you said so yourse lf. Right? You don’t want this—ugly little mouse. Like, ew, right? R-Right?” He kissed my jawline. I tried not to recoil. “You can let go of me now. Whatever p-point you’re trying to make, I get it. See, you’re just…” What exactly was he trying to do? “You’re just—”
    “I’m doing what every guy in my posit ion would’ve done,” he murmured.
    “You’re—you’re a funny guy, Slade. Ha-ha. I’m d-dying of laught—”
    “ Shh.”
    I grew more desperate. “L-Let go of me now. Look, pretty tattoos. You have such p-p-pretty tatt—”
    “Hush.”
    “I know you’re kidding.” I tried to laugh, but it fell limp. “So funny. Ha—”
    “Three.”
    “I m-mean—” Damn it, I couldn’t stop the stuttering. “If you’d wanted to really do this, you w-w-would’ve ripped off my clothes already—”
    “Two.”
    I squirmed against him. “You’re a n-nice guy. I know you are. You may have the mouth of a toilet—”
    The next word was a barely-there murmur. “One.”
    Right at that moment, the door exploded open.
    Earsplitting music burst in, and the smell of alcohol assaulted the room. Hunter loosened his hold on my wrists, but before I could shove him off, two bodies crashed into the bed and I heard Ash laugh.
    “Shit, Zel, I didn’t know you were getting it on in here,” said Ash, letting the bumblebee-dressed girl wrestle off his shirt. “Don’t mind us. You keep doing what you’re doing, we’ll keep doing what we’re doing—”
    Hunter, who had started to nuzzle my neck, breathed quiet laughter against my collarbone.
    The words came naturally, as though they were scripted. “We’ll take another room,” I said, starting to sit up. Hunter gently pushed me back down.
    “I think—whoa, babe, not the mouth,” said Ash, turning his head just in time for the girl to start making out with his cheek. “No, no, stay. Wouldn’t it be ace if we, you know, shared this experience—”
    Major awkward sauce. “No, thanks. I’ll be going now. Hunter, let’s—”
    He didn’t even let me finish. “As you wish.”
    In one swift movement, he was off me, and I was swept into a pair of strong arms. He turned and, acting as though I weighed nothing more than a feather, flung me over his bare shoulder. I blinked.
    “Take care of my girl, eh, Slade?” Ash called. “Try to return her in one piece.”
    “Not promising anything,” Hunter said, and closed the door behind us.
    Once in the hallway, he walked farther down and then set me on my feet, his hands startlingly gentle around my waist. For a moment, I stared up at him. He stared back, his gaze as cool as it’d ever been. I tried to say something. No words would come.
    So I punched him in the face.
    His head whipped to the side, blondish tufts falling over his eyes and an alarmingly red blot forming on his cheek. Swallowing the urge to follow it with another one,