I can’t seem to shake the memory of the last time I was alone with Sara . . . it wasn’t my finest performance.
. . .I jerked off on her like some hormonal teenager. I’d barely shoved my pants down when I was all but fisting my c**k and jerking it against her stomach, coming in under a minute with the taste of her still on my tongue. I doubt that’s what LaShonda had in mind when she suggested we begin dating to keep up appearances. My bad.
My bad.But if Sara is holding this against me, you wouldn’t know it. Her fingers curl around my bicep, and she lets out a low laugh at something Asher just said.
Does she know she’s turning me on?
Not to mention, she’s wearing that lipstick again—that f*****g bright pink lipstick that makes the front of my pants too tight.
She came to my game last Sa
