“Say I’m your type.” “What?” I halt my movement. “Say it.” “You’re not, Camden.” I hear the sadness in her voice, and it kills me. She’s lying. “I am. You’ve never been fucked the way I fuck you. And you’re not allowed to come until you admit I’m exactly the type you’ve always needed.” “I don’t want to,” her voice quavers. “But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” She shakes her head.
