She was trying way too hard.
I love the Try-Hards.
They were the kind of girl you knew was looking to get some cock. Their actions said, 'I'm right here, just insert tab A into slot B and let's go!' My type, entirely; women who knew what they wanted never failed to get my pants tight.
Grinning, I slid beside her, my hips rocking with the tempo. Wordlessly, not even meeting my eyes, Skirt-Girl humped the air until she was inches away from me. Her hips twisted, towering heels barely moving off the grass—maybe so she wouldn't fall and break an ankle.
In seconds we were swaying together, her round ass touching my zipper. That long length of hair brushed her neck, tempting me to reach out and grab it.
I hoped she liked having her hair pulled, because once I got her alone, I planned to yank it back so I could nibble her pale neck. Just thinking about that has me getting stiff. Carefully, I adjusted myself in my pants, never missing a beat.
The music suddenly exploded, turning into applause. Skirt-Girl slowed down, acting like she was watching the stage, but I knew better. This game and I were old friends.
Running a hand through my hair, I smiled at her until she glanced my way. It's funny, we hadn't said hello, but I'd had my erection on her ass for several minutes. “Hey,” I said, nodding at the band. “I think they're finishing their set. Come take a break with me, get some air.”
Cocking her head, Skirt made a show of toying with the top of her halter. “How about you buy me a drink first?”
I wasn't surprised by her request. Try-Hards sometimes want you to buy them something before they'll sleep with you. It's an exhausting ritual, but what did I care? Cash was never a problem for me, I'd had it in spades my whole life.
“Sure, I'll be right back, Sugar. What do you want?”
Her eyes darted down, fixing on the front of my jeans for a long second. Oh, she was good. “A beer is fine. For now.”
For now.
Jeez. Try-Hards are seriously the best.
“Beer. Not a problem, you just hang here.” My smile touched my eyes, then I was off. I knew where the nearest vendor selling alcohol was, I'd already chugged a bottle down when I'd first arrived. The problem was that they were as far from the stage as you could get.
Shoving around dancing groups and chatting people, I beat a path towards the drink stand. It was past ten, the sky a rich blue-black that would never be truly dark, not with all of the city's light pollution.
The edge of the park had a few tall lamps, the people thinning until I didn't feel like I was being crushed in a tuna can. Most folks wanted to be near the stage, so the fringe was almost empty in comparison.
There, I thought, walking towards the small table in the distance. Buy some beer and hurry the fuck back before little miss Skirt finds another cock to ride.
“Get the fuck away from her!” A voice shouted out from my right. On instinct, I turned to look.
Just down the grassy hill, away from the crowds, there was a woman. Reddish hair, black pants, a surprisingly demure cream colored top and appropriate jacket for the weather. Pretty. Normal. But the situation she was in wasn't normal at all.
She had her hands on a man's arm, yanking at him to get him away from...
Oh, shit.
There was another girl, and she was kneeling on the grass at the guy's feet, doubled over like she'd taken a punch. Had that guy actually hit her?
“I said get away from her!” The red head was pulling at the man. There was no hint of fear, even though he could easily break her damn skull. Her short black heels dug into the ground. She meant business.
What was going on? And why was no one else doing anything?
Not my problem, I told myself, glancing at the drink stand. Visions of Skirt-Girl danced in my head. Her plump lips, her perky ass, her—
“I'm calling the cops, you son of a—Aaah!”
Red was a damn ghost to me, I had no clue who she was. Regardless, when I heard her scream, I bolted down that hill at breakneck-speed.
His fingers were crushing her forearms, turning the skin bloodless. Seconds before I careened into the group, I saw Red's face. Instead of terrified about how he was ready to split her in two, she was pissed this guy had dared to touch her.
Who was this woman?
Grabbing the man's shoulders, I yanked him to me, forcing him to release Red. Then, before he could get his balance, I shoved him away violently. He stumbled, catching himself at the last second.
“Hey, Fuck-Head!” I shouted, cracking my knuckles. “What the hell are you doing to these two?”
I wasn't some breed of hero; this was none of my business. But no one else had stepped up.
How could I sit back and watch?
The big guy stomped forward, eyeballing me—sizing me up. “This isn't your problem, buddy. Why don't you get out of here before you get hurt?”
I knew he could see the muscles through my tight shirt and open jacket. I'd dressed to impress the ladies, but it also warned the world that I was no push-over.
If this guy thought I'd be an easy mark, he was dead wrong.
Standing taller, I flashed my best smile. “A lovely woman in a skimpy skirt is waiting for me to return, and you just cock-blocked that plan. Someone has to pay for that, might as well be the asshole beating on his girlfriend.”
To my left, Red made a face. “I'm not his girlfriend, and neither is she.”
“You're both single? Good to know.” I blessed her with a quick smirk. The way her eyes widened had my heart beating faster.
Unfortunately, I had other priorities.
The big asshole lifted his chin, chest puffed out like a rooster. “Last chance, get lost or get ready to collect your teeth off the grass. Hope you have a good dentist.”
“Holy shit,” I laughed. “Did you really just say that? Like, actually say that out loud?”
Lines crawled across the bridge of his nose, a snarl if I'd ever seen one. Talking this out was a failure. I'd already figured it would be. Any guy that'd attack a woman had to be short-tempered.
Ducking low, he ran right at me.
I'd taken some martial arts classes when I was a teen. Nothing serious, basic body-movement and leverage shit. My mother's idea, of course—she wanted me to know how to protect myself from the 'bad kids.' I don't think it occurred to her that I was one of those kids.
If she was still alive, I would have thanked her for those lessons now.
Anticipating his movements, light on my toes, I tensed up. When he got close, I darted to the side. It didn't take much momentum—he was the one rushing me—for my fist to slam into his guts.
The noise he made was awful, like a balloon deflating while it dribbled wetness.
Coughing, my attacker slumped forward. Hugging his stomach, he glared up at me through his hair. Drool slid down his chin, veins criss-crossing the whites of his eyes.
The fucker wanted my blood.
Twisting my torso, I got ready to give him one more hit, something to drop him for a few hours so he'd stop being a threat. Nighty night, I thought.
Red's knee came down, catching him in the ear and planting his face firmly in the grass. Green stained his cheek, his shirt ruined from his own spittle.
The other girl gasped, covering her mouth.
Holy shit. Lifting an eyebrow, I stared at Red appreciatively.
She smoothed her shirt, shrugging. “He deserved it.” Bending over, she helped the blonde woman to her feet. “Are you alright, miss...?”
“Trish,” she said, stepping further away from the unconscious man. “And thanks. Both of you. I don't know what made him think it was okay to corner me like that. I told him I didn't want to go home with him. I'd seen him slip something into my drink earlier, knew he was bad news.”