It’s been a week since I’ve seen him or his creepy friends, so my first thought when he shows up at my table in the library is oh s**t, he’s found me again. But of course he did. I’m either at home or in the library. It’s not like I’m trying to hide.
“What do you want?”
“To feel you strangling my c**k with that tight p***y, of course.”
His response startles me, and I knock over a paper cup I didn’t realize he’d set there. The hot liquid spreads across my textbook. Goddammit. With a huff, I mop at it with some tissues.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re disgusting?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Sure, but I’ve been called worse.”
I’m sure you have.
Refusing to get into an argument with him, I change the subject. I don’t want to relive the memory of what happened between us.
"Obvio
