“We are not together, Huck—” “Yes, we are,” he calmly interrupts. “And when did that happen? What, you just decided that on your own?” I shout, grabbing the shower gel and scrubbing it over my body. “You decided it when you bent yourself over your couch and begged me to fuck you like I owned you,” he says, an edge of annoyance breaking through his calm tone. “That was just sex,” I cry. “I like sex, so sue me. The control thing was hot, the dirty talk was hot, but it was just fun.” “You telling me if I climbed in that shower and touched you right now, you wouldn’t be wet for me? That if I
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