CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“GET ON THE BED.” GARFIELD tossed Connie on the foam mattress and thrust his muscular body on top of her, smelling of goat and sweat.
“It’s not happening!” Connie waved her hands and kicked.
“Settle down.” He crushed her between his thighs. “Sh. You might enjoy it.” He grabbed Connie’s face and forced his slimy, bitter lips over hers.
“Mm!” She scratched and clawed, nausea swirling in the put of her stomach.
“You like it?” He panted, going for another kiss.
Connie smashed her knee into his crotch.
“Ah!” He rolled off her, holding his middle.
She snatched the lamp off the end table and slugged him in the face with it.
He howled as Connie jumped off the bed and ran toward the rifle.
“No, you don’t.” Garfield stuck his leg out, tripping her.
“Ooh.”
