“I write smut. I can show you a few things I’ve written.”
“I don’t read, I think.”
“Oh, really, Mr Cocky Wiz? Come over and let me be entertained by your brilliant mind then.”
So he did.
…
And somewhere around the time, I had his cock buried deep from behind and him pulling me up from all-fours to my knees, his arm wrapped around my neck and ordering my husband to kiss me while he denied my release for the fifth time…I had to admit, I didn’t give a flying flamingo whether he reads my stuff or not.
