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Orange Dress pressed up close to him, her breast pushing against his arm. “We could go skinny dipping,” she purred.
Before he could reply, a gagging sound came from behind them. Whoa! Was someone drunk enough to throw up so early in the party. The night was still young. It was only eleven, not even midnight.
He turned to look to see who the lightweight was but couldn’t spot anyone who might be the culprit.
“Okay. If you don’t like that idea, we can think of something else,” Orange Dress declared, pouting. “What do you want to do with me? Or to me, for that matter?”
Harsh choked, his vodka going down the wrong way. Orange Dress didn’t even slap his back or try to help in any way as he gasped and spluttered in front of her. She just gaped at him like a goldfish that had escaped its bowl of water.
“I don’t think,” Harsh wheezed. “That’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Orange Dress bent backwards at the waist till her hands touched the ground and then flipped back up. She ran her tongue along her lower lip. “I’m very flexible.”
Harsh stared at her, genuinely impressed by the flex. He wouldn’t have been able to bend like that even if he yoga-d his way through life for the next year.
“Wow okay.” He took a careful sip of his vodka. “That’s something.”
The gagging sound came again, closer this time. He hoped whoever it was wasn’t going to throw up near him. Harsh was a sympathetic puker. Someone puked, so did he.
“I can do more.” Orange Dress wasn’t done. “I can break a pencil with my vagina.
Harsh gaped at her, a little scared now. “Umm okay.”
“Why would you want to?” A new voice entered the conversation. A voice Harsh knew well. Of course, she was the gagger. She should be gagged but nope, God wasn’t going to do him that favour.
She stepped up to stand beside him. Five foot nothing, in frayed and torn jeans and a simple white crop top, her hair in a braid and her glasses perched on her nose, she was quietly pretty and frankly terrifying.
Beside her, Ram gave him a brief smile. Harsh smiled back. He had no beef with Ram. In fact, he liked Ram. Point to be noted, Harsh liked most people. Except her.
“Eh?” Orange Dress’s intelligent repartee was not helping the current situation. The Viper beside him would eviscerate her without a second’s thought. Harsh was feeling oddly protective of his new, flexible friend.
“Why would you want to break a pencil with your vagina? And if you could do that, I’m assuming you could do the same with a phallus?”
“A what?” Orange Dress frowned.
“Dick,” Harsh supplied helpfully.
“Dick what?” Perplexed, Orange Dress looked from Harsh to the Viper. “Your dick? Yes, I’d like to see it.”
“Just see?” The Viper asked coolly, amusement trickling through her voice.
“Obviously not.” Orange Dress was irritated. “I’d like to do a lot with it, including sex.”
“Of course.” Viper murmured. “Sex with the pencil breaking vagina. Bet you could get his dick in a headlock.”
A pained noise escaped Harsh at the thought. “Stop it,” he hissed at the Viper. Ram snickered even as he murmured a warning, “Raash.”
“Stop what?” she queried innocently. Innocent his sliver of a naked arse! She was as innocent as a siren singing to doomed sailors.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Orange Dress demanded.
“NO!” Harsh and the Viper shouted at the same time, both sounding equally horrified. Ram burst into laughter behind them.
Orange Dress looked between the two of them and whatever conclusions she drew, they were enough for her to mutter, “Whatever.” She disappeared into the crowd without a backward glance.
“Sorry.” The Viper smiled, a cold twisting of her lips. “Didn’t mean to cockblock you.”
“You didn’t.” Harsh glared at her. “Don’t flatter yourself. If I’d wanted her, I would have had her.”
