“Did you get your dick sucked?” Kit pipes up, his tongue playing along his bottom lip. Disgust contorts my features. “Did I get my—no, I didn’t get my dick sucked. And why is that your question for everything I do?” Kit shrugs. “I’m just trying to look out for you and your very sad sex life.” Fulton props his chin on the end of his stick, letting it take his weight. “Yeah, you have been really depressed after Macy.” I hate them. I hate them all.
