Damian
Why?
Hana
It’s gross, and rude.
Damian
If it’s so gross, then how come it gets you so wet?
My fingers hesitate over the keys, pulse hammering, before I reply.
Hana
It doesn’t. I promise you that.
Damian
Prove it. Put your phone under that business skirt of yours and take a photo.
I clench my jaw, forcing back a grin as I type.
Hana
I’m not sending you a picture of my panties.
Damian
Then get your ass back here and show me in person.
“What’s got you smiling like that?” Annika laughs, and I realize too late my face has betrayed me.
“Nothing,” I mutter, trying to keep my expression neutral.
Another text from Damian dings, and I can almost hear his tone turning darker.
Damian
Seriously though, lest I have to remind you of our arrangement, where are you and why aren’t you here to take care of this?
The next message is a photo. Of him. Or, at least, a very swollen, veined, thick, and…fuck me, mouthwatering…part of him.
My eyes bulge as the high-def photo of Damian’sgiantcock fills my screen. I quickly swipe away from the image.
Hana
You’re a lunatic.
Damian
Where. Are. You. I’m not joking. If you’re in that fucker Kai’s room again, he’s going to have to learn to sign his name with his goddamn toes.
I roll my eyes.
Hana
I’m down the hall.
