top of his lungs. “Shit, that’s my dick.” “What’s your di—” Klunk. I’m smacked in the eye with what I’m assuming is a stuffed animal. “Motherfucker,” I yell as I grip my eye. She caught it when it was open. “Your knee,” Ryland groans. “Your knee is on my dick.” “Get off his dick!” Mac screams. “I don’t want to be on his dick.” I scramble but take another beating to the head, a one-two knock-knock. “Don’t say dick,” Ryland groans.
