Page 9 of Trailer Trash

I rub my wrist, feeling foolish for getting so close to a patient who’s restrained for violence towards others.

“Uh, HR flagged your overdue training. Gina’s taking over. Go,” the nurse says.

Her judgement is palpable.

Strangely, I don’t really want to go, even though that’s exactly what I should do.

I force a warm smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope—”

“Save it,” he grumbles.

Maybe part of me still wants to comfort him. Or maybe I want to prove he isn’t dangerous, if only to make my mistake less embarrassing.

Either way, my stubborn self takes over, intent on making him laugh once more.

“If you go to rehab, I hope you have a terrible time, you spoiled brat.” I give a quick wink, something I do with lots of patients to make them smile.

He doesn’t smile.

“Will I see you again?” he asks, his tone casual, but his stare isn’t.

“I’m off for the next three days. You should be released by then. Good luck, Killian.”

He glares, eyes narrowing and dark. No goodbye. No thanks for the advice. Just a look of contempt, as if I wronged him.

I head for the door, wondering where exactly I misspoke. Just as I step out, his words to the nurse slice through the air.

“Give me another fuckin’ pill.”

I sigh softly.

Not because he is exactly as dangerous as I assumed he was, but because I found him charming anyway.

3

Harlow

“Okay, this is happening. I will cum.”

I press the rose-shaped toy against my clit. The shower water slicks my skin, and the toy makes gentle suction noises, doing what the box promised.

“Oh, yes,” I breathe.

Okay, think of Jaxson. He’s so hot. Yes. Jaxson. The way his sleeves pulled tight around his biceps when he leaned over my notes. That smile he gave before whispering close while the instructor droned on. I look down at my hips, imagining his mouth sucking my clit instead of the toy. Oh, God. Yes! I’m almost there.

My knees start to give, the euphoria builds, warming my skin. I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna—

I wait for the final wave to break. The suction keeps pulsing.

Evan flashes.

Pleasure drops.

Jaxson.

Pleasure fades.

A tattooed hand glides below my navel. Between my legs. A forearm painted with creepy faces, like the puppet from Saw or Michael Meyers in Halloween, flexes as his hand curls to push inside of me.