Whispering has never been in her system as long as I remember, but that aside, because I am not disseminating anything to her. Not in this cab, and not now, when my pussycat has begun throbbing just at the notion of him. It’s like he dwells somewhere beneath my skin, tickling me every time he senses his name in my mind.
"Come on, Ellie. Tell me. I wanna hear that juice," she says, so anticipatory for the chatter. She is quite an irksome tattletale at times.
"We are here, miss," the driver announces.
Yahalla! I mentally smirked. Grace is not getting a sh*t about me and my Damian. She might die of curiosity.
We step out of the cab, the faint echo of the fare payment lingering in the air as we emerge onto the bustling street. The exotic parkway stretches out before us, a tapestry of vibra
