It's time to be squeezed again you cheeky monkeys! We have changed up our guidelines for this go round giving authors multiple choices for prompts. We promise to have all the details up this week on all the new! Come write for us, squeeze us good!
Our first author is new to Squeeze My Lemon, Chanse Lowell
She chose a word prompt: fresh
Enjoy her teaser!
I make the mistake of looking in my rear-view mirror. Edward’s outside. He’s staring at me in amazement as I flee.
And the vision of him watching me leave makes me feel . . . off.
I grip the wheel tighter, and breathe in and out; deep, calming breaths.
I really don’t like that guy.
Fucking stupid, freaking-out body!
I clamp my thighs closed. They’re leaking in the middle for him.
Bastard. Kissing me? Who does that after stealing someone’s car and getting caught?
“Mrraaaahhhhh!” I scream and stretch my neck, continuing to drive as fast as I can.
At a stop light, I rip my hoodie off, and chuck it in the backseat.
Within moments, I’m back home, tucked up safe in my car, hidden away in my own, personal, bat cave.
I almost roll off the seat once I have the door open.
I’m too exhausted to scrub my car down.
I head inside; find a way to get a few more drops out of the last of my homemade sanitizer.
My feet shuffle around, heavy and uncooperative as I head to my office.
I plunk down in my seat and stare at my newest ideas I’m working on, but my eyes shift away, and I’m anything but interested in working.
How? How did I wind up caring about what he thought about me?
He thinks I’m repellent.
But he kissed you . . .
I fight off a shiver, and look for my sweater, but for some asinine reason, it’s not resting on the back of my chair as usual.
When I pause and think about it . . . I’m not cold. And my sweater’s in the dryer. I had to wash it after I sneezed.
I get up, and strip down, all of the sudden feeling grimy and obnoxiously dirty.
I kick off my Doc Martens and yank off my socks. My black jeans fall to the floor, and I have my black tee shirt off a moment later. I fling it on top of my pants.
They all land under the desk, and I realize that for the first time in my life, I’m being messy, and I don’t give a fuck.
Why should I? I was almost violated.
I traipse back to my bedroom with my head tipped down.
My body wants to crash on me, and when I’m within falling distance of my mattress, I allow myself to land face first into the fluffy comforter I secretly love with all its purple ruffles and flowery patterns.
“Well, fuck, you don’t waste time,” a familiar voice lilts.
“Ahhhhhh!” I scream, and before I can jump off the bed, strong arms grip mine behind me, and I’m suddenly cuffed to the top of my black, iron headboard.
“Oh, yeah, I’m gonna have fun with you!” Edward says with a shifty smile.
“Let me go, you nasty fucker, and I won’t send you straight to prison for this,” I howl.
He nudges my leg with his wrist. “Let’s talk some more about that.” He rubs his jaw. “Or maybe . . . Just maybe, we should talk about how I outsmarted you, breaking into your impenetrable fortress. Rumor is, not only are you invincible, and no one knows who you are, but you’re also supposed to have the most secure home in the US. Not very secure from where I’m standing.” He chuckles and paces at my side, brushing up against the side of the bed as he goes.
My eyes follow him, and I gulp, my stupid mouth, watering again.
God, does he have to be so hot and smell this good?
“Black is overrated. You’d look really good in some other colors like blue, or even red. It would bring out the chocolate in your eyes.” He leans over, his head disappearing, and when he comes back up, he places a red, silky blindfold on my torso.
I try to angle my head up to see what he’s going to do next.
He rests his hand on the bed, an inch away from my leg. I scoot away from him.
“Too close for your liking?” he taunts.
I swallow and keep my eyes opened; focused on him.
“Not much for chatting, huh?” He removes his hand and inches toward my upper body. “Well, maybe if I take away some of your other senses, you’ll be more likely to talk to me.”
I shake my head the second he picks up the blindfold and brings it toward my eyes.
“No, please, God, no!”
“Yes, please, God, yes,” he mocks me, smirking.
He slips it over my eyes, and a moment later, I hear the unmistakable sound of a cap on a bottle being flipped open.
“What is that?” I ask, my head lifting higher, my body perking up.
“I don’t want your germs,” he says. “It’s hand sanitizer, since I’m definitely gonna have to touch you.”
A soft, pleading whimper chokes its way out of my chest. “Please don’t.”