“Nah, not at all. I like a woman who likes to chill. I mean, I can yap it up with the best of ’em, but that doesn’t mean I wanna do that shit all the time. I like my me time and shit too.” A naughty thought popped into my head, which caused me to giggle out loud. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I answered, giggling again.
“Spill it.”
I swung my head back and forth. “It’s nothing. Forreal, it’s nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, then just say it.”
“Fine,” I said with a huff. “I was just thinking the reason you like your me time is to be able to jack off to porn like most niggas do.”
“What’s wrong with masturbation?”
“Nothing, it’s just?—”
He cut me off. “You don’t play with your pussy?”
“I didn’t say that, I?—”
“Then do you? Yes or no, Sawyer? Do you play with your pussy?”
“Of course I do. It’s a natural, human thing to?—”
“Then why does it make you giggle when you think about me doing it?”
“I never said I thought about you doing it, Kareem, I just?—”
“You just what?” he probed, cutting me off for the fourth time.
“Could you please stop fucking cutting me off? Damn! I’m just trying to?—”
“To what? Get the thought of me jacking off my dick out of your head? Yeah. I bet you are.”
I huffed with defeat. I couldn’t get the nigga to shut the fuck up. “Can we please change the subject?”
“Too much for you?”
“I’m not in the mood for your mind games, aight?”
“Who said I was playing mind games? I’m just asking questions like you wanted me to.”
“We never agreed to play.”
“Well, it looks like we are. Ready for the next one? Here we go. How rough do you like it?”
I choked on the liquor in my throat. His vulgar question had visibly caught me off guard. “What makes you think I like it rough?” I asked through coughs.
“Something about chu. I can tell.”
His accusation instantly made me sweat, and I started to squirm uncomfortably in my seat, pussy slipping and sliding against my wet panties. The liquor had him in a no-limits mood after only a shot or two, and I didn’t know how the hell to respond. As badly as I wanted to change the subject, my mind was drawing blanks about anything nonsexual to discuss.
“Sawyer?” he asked, drawing me out of my scrambled thoughts.
“What?”
“How wet is your pussy right now?”
My heart plummeted to my feet. “I–I.”
