“She loved the fruit as well,” Sal said, cutting into my thoughts. He smirked, munching on the cracker. “Though you can hardly take credit for that.” Watch me, buddy. I’d picked that fruit, cleaned it, sliced it at just the right thickness. That was my fruit. Every bite she’d put in her mouth, every moan of pleasure she’d made, had been because of me. And fuck, that turned me on so badly my hands shook.
