"What are you doing?" I hiss
My boyfriend is right between my legs, his head popping out from under the covers.
Rolling away, his hand shoots across the bed and to the bedside table. He fiddles with the wire connecting the lamp to the wall before a yellow light illuminates the room.
"You were having a nightmare," he rushes out. "I was trying to...you know..." he waves his hand toward me "make it better."
"By fucking me against my will?" I grunt, throwing the covers away from me and turning my back to him as I sit on the side of the bed.
I still haven't released the gun The letters tattooed on my knuckles are taut from how tightly I'm holding it. They're scarred, disappearing slowly over time because of the street fights and teaching people not to fuck with me.
"I'm pretty sure being fucked against your will is the only thing that makes you wet at this point," he mutters from his corner of the bed.
