I’m about to bridge the distance between us, but her attention plants to me, on my boxer-briefs. Her smile slowly elevates, and her pace quickens until she’s right in front of me, my hand gently sliding across her waist. And she says, “You know your ass says, Bat Girl, right?” I didn’t. “That do it for you, Calloway?” “It does a lot of things for me.” Her silly fucking smile widens and she wags her brows suggestively, teasing about sex, even when she’s not in the mood for it. Most of our friendship was flirting without an endgame. So I’m used to it in our relationship, and I don’t want it to
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