Page 177 of The Art of Almost Losing It
I come into her with a curse, fucking her over and over again until she’s done shuddering.
She flops back down on the couch, picks up her phone, and flips through the photos.
“I hope Piper likes this.”
I draw my name in cursive on her breasts as she crops one photo. I finger her clit, and she just spreads her legs wider and lets me.
There’s a rapid-fire flurry of incoming text messages.
I trail my fingers on her soft inner thigh.
“Wait, you actually sent that?” I look up, frowning.
“Uhhh…” Dani’s eyes dart around. “No?”
“Dani!”
“I might need to go do damage control…” She stumbles off the couch.
“I thought you were joking.” I grab her arm. “Why would you want to send your friend a dick pic?”
“I-It’s…” she stammers. “Oh please, like you didn’t take videos of me when you were”—she waves her hand around—“you know. I bet you’re showing them to all your friends.”
“I’m not taking videos of you,” I tell her, furious.
“You have a kidnapping kink.” Her mouth is set.
“I’m not making a sex tape of you. Furthermore, there’s no way I’d show anyone a video or image of you to anyone, even if you gave permission,” I scoff.
“Wait, you want me to believe that? You said I was pretty.”
“Yeah, and did you miss the fucking rest of it when I said that you’re mine?” I rage at her. “That I saw you first? I stole you first? And I don’t want any man ever to look at you, and I certainly don’t want any man to know what you look like when you’re about to come. No one in the entire world knows what you look like when you come except for me. I’m the only man who lets you come. I’m the only man who fucks you.”
My hand tightens on her wrist.
“Whenever I want.”
She nods.
“Say it.”
“Whenever you want,” she whispers.
33
DANI
“This dick pic has to be shared with the people,” Gran rails as I try and fail to sneak into the apartment unnoticed.
“You never said that about any of the dick pics that I sent you,” a young man—emphasis onyoung—cries.
“I mean, you’re not exactly ejaculating hundred-dollar bills,” Piper reminds him.
“You have to delete those photos,” I warn.
“Who cares about the money? Look at that!” Gran has a printout of the photo I took of Graham. You can just see the tips of my fingers in it.
Ugh.
