“You’re fucking dead, boy,” he hisses, lunging at me and trying to fucking slice me across the chest. Boy? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s already trying to fucking stab me, did he really have to call me boy? That just makes me want to fucking knock his lights out even more.
I take one step back, getting out of his reach, but he comes after me, the fucking sun reflecting on the blade as he moves it above his head and brings it down. Fuck, I can’t dodge him forever; if I simply keep getting out of reach, my luck is going to fucking run out and I’ll end up with that knife buried five fucking inches deep in my chest.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath as my back hits the trunk of a large fucking tree. Death in his fucking eyes, the guy in the hoodie closes the distance between me and him and changes his grip on the knife, grabbing it underhandedly. He raises his arm and then brings it down again, aiming for my fucking heart. This is it; I can’t dodge him anymore.
Moving fast, I take one step toward him and raise my arm up in the air, trying to block him. His forearm hits mine as he presses down, the tip of the blade hanging two inches above my head.
“Who did you call a ‘boy’?” I ask him with a grin, gallons of fucking adrenaline raging through me. He wasn’t expecting me to be so fucking bold, so I take his moment’s confusion to ram my closed fist into his fucking face. There’s a nauseating crunching sound as my hand crashes against his nose, and the man tumbles back, letting go of the knife and bringing both hands to his ruined face. His kerchief is turning fucking red, soaking the blood from his broken nose.
“You’re fucking dead,” he hisses again, rage burning in his eyes. Like a fucking madman he throws himself at me, trying to grab me by the neck. I sidestep him easily and fucking punch him again, this time my fist landing on the side of his face. He tumbles onto the ground, falling flat on his ass. I take the chance and jump on top of him, fucking pummeling him with my close fist. This motherfucker tried to fucking rape Jocelyn, and if I wasn’t around... Fuck.#p#分页标题#e#
“Lance, stop. He’s out,” I hear Jocelyn say. She’s sitting back against a tree, her voice weak and fearful. If it weren’t for her, I’d keep punching until there was nothing left, fury guiding me as I remember this fucking bastard’s intentions. Adrenaline still coursing in my veins, I get up, leaving the unconscious fucker sprawled on the ground, and walk toward Jocelyn.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, looking into her eyes. Her lips are dry, and there’s an expression of pure terror in her face, as if only now her close call started to sink in. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m… I’m…” she starts, but the words get lost as a fucking violent sob takes over her. I reach for her, taking her in my arms as she starts to cry. I place one hand under the nape of her neck, gently caressing her.
“Hey, hey… It’s alright. I’m here now,” I whisper into her, and she hugs me tight, her head resting on my shoulder. I close my eyes, just holding her close and waiting for her to calm down.
Her tits are pressed against my chest, and I have to take a deep breath to focus on what’s happening. It’s not that easy, though—her warm skin, her breasts, the way she has her arms around my chest… That mental image from before, my cock deep in her mouth, hits me again, and I have to take a deep breath.
Fuck, I just want to lean in and kiss her. I feel warm blood surging toward my cock, and I start getting fucking hard. And, fuck, I’m only wearing basketball shorts. If I pop a fucking boner right now, there’s no fucking way I’ll be able to hide it from her.
Breathing deeply, somehow I manage to regain a fucking semblance of control. I should get a fucking medal for this: Zen Master of the Year.
“Let’s go,” I tell her. “I’ll take you home.” I stand up, pulling her up to her feet; with one arm over her shoulders, we head out from the bushes and into the trail. I almost want to leave the fucking bastard there, choking on his own blood; he sure as fuck deserves it, but saner thoughts prevail. Grabbing my cell phone, I call 911 and inform them of what just happened. The dispatcher asks me to remain here, waiting for the police, but there’s no fucking way I’m going to be hanging around this place with Jocelyn. I’m taking her home right fucking now. The NYPD can get our fucking statement there, as far as I’m concerned.
“Thank you, Lance…” she whispers, grabbing my arm tightly. There’s real gratitude there; I simply smile, not knowing what else to say. I’m just glad I was around, because if I wasn’t… Fuck, I don’t even want to think about what could have fucking happened.