“No.”
“Why’d you get them on your… n*****s?”
Heat caresses me as soon as the word leaves my lips.
He doesn’t say anything.
I feel his gaze on me.
“Why do you think?” He replies.
Slowly, I turn to him. His gaze is dark, mysterious, tempting.
“Why do you think I pierced my n*****s?”
I immediately picture those barbells. I recall how it felt against my fingers.
“Done eating?”
I glance at my full salad bowl, then back at him and nod with hesitation.
“Since you’re done, let’s look at your pictures.” He says, stretching his hand toward me. He takes my fork and sets it aside.
My mouth opens to speak, but he beats me to it.
“Come sit here,” he says softly, gripping my waist and lifting me into his lap.
A thin, sharp inhale slices through me.
My body goes rigid on his when he pulls
