P.S. I Loathe You

by Isla Olsen

Natasha Wilcox: Helllooooooo??? Natasha Wilcox: Get your cock out of Devon’s bum and answer me!

“Shut up, it’s not funny,” I hiss. “How do you deal with this every day? I can’t even sit down.” “I guess I just have a higher pain threshold than you,” he says with a shrug. “Or maybe you’re just such a cockslut your arse is completely desensitised by now.”

Wes’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “You’d better not be trying to insert some mad clause about our kids going for Chelsea, because I’ll take back the ring right now if that’s the case.”

“Okay, okay. I promise. How about a compromise, though?” I suggest. “We let them decide.” Wes considers it for a long moment, before finally nodding. “Fine. But if we end up with a bunch of Arsenal supporters I’m never going to let you forget this moment.”