Friday, February 10, 2012

3 Word Wednesday CCLVIII

This post is in response to the three word Wednesday prompt (control, flesh, razor)

Sasha was feeling out of control, in that reckless, wake up the next morning "where the hell am I?" kind of way. Her bloodshot eyes scanned the club, hunting for prey. Spotted: tall, built brother rocking on the dance floor.

She wobbled with the music, closing in on the kill. Forget about that prick, Thomas, her mantra for the night. But the pain seared as if her heart torn open with a rusty razor blade.

Sasha gyrated next to her conquest, leaving no question that she was for the taking.

He grinned and followed her rhythm with his pelvis. He inched his way closer until they moved as one. She drowned in his musky scent. He brushed his thick lips across her neck, her flesh eager with anticipation.

He whispered in her ear, "Want to go back to my place?" She nodded. Anything to erase the past five wasted years and feel alive again.

write on!

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