“Do you think they have to fuck him?” He scrunched up his nose adorably. “Can you imagine what eighty-year-old balls look like? Bet they’re like prunes stuffed into stretched-out stockings.” Vlado made a strangled sound from the driver’s seat. “Did you really have to put that image in my head?” “Sorry not sorry. If I have to picture it, you do too.” Nick grinned sweetly at Vlado in the rearview mirror. “I’m never going to be able to look at Bryant the same way,” I drawled. “Also not sorry.”
