“All of them.” I grind against him. “Hopefully more than once.” He hums and bites the tattoo on my neck. “Hey, hey!” Preston yells. “This is not a porno. Knock it off!” The song changes to “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran, and I roll my body, dragging my hand down my throat and chest to my hip while making awkward eye contact with Preston. “Maybe I planned a gang bang for Pauly boy’s birthday,” I yell, and Preston clenches his jaw. “He is not touching me.”
