"Natalia?" he asks, having the nerve to sound confused. I ignore his attempts to coax me back on my knees, log into the dating app, and open the inbox. My screen fills with the last of his dick pics. The erection in the photo lies on a towel beside two cans of Magi-Cola stacked on top of each other. It’s long and thick and juicy—just the way I like them. He places a hand on my shoulder. "Natalia, what are you doing?" I step out of his touch, brandishing the screen. "You told me that was your cock." "It is," Stan says, his tone clipped and defensive. "And you promised to suck me dry."
