Page 38 of To Hate Adam Connor

“Oh, it looks…it just looks, you know. Like a lot.”

“Well, I warned you. Can’t say I didn’t.” As I was walking to the full-length mirror, I pushed my thumbs between the thick fabric and my breasts and tried to pull it up higher. The only issue was that nothing was budging. I looked at myself in the mirror, and then glanced at Olive over my shoulder.

“You know, I think I can actually motorboat myself in this dress. How fun would that be?”

“Lucy.” She groaned and sat up on her knees on the bed. “Come here. Let me see if I can pull it up.”

“I already tried that,” I said, but I still turned around to walk over to her. “I think this is as high as it can go. My poor boobs can’t even breathe in this thing. How do you even manage to walk with your puppies? I mean, sure, they’re good to sleep on, but this”—I lifted my boobs even higher with my hands—“this is just ridiculous. They’re almost touching my chin, for God’s sake! Help me get out of this before I explode.”

“But the strapless looks so good with your short hair.”

“Try, Olive,” I said, giving up and letting go of my boobs as I stood in front of her. “Just try to make it work then.”

She bit her bottom lip and just kept looking at my boobs.

I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “Excuse me! I’m not just some piece of meat.”

“I’m sorry.” She laughed. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t look away.” Eyes still on me, she started to yank up the fabric.

“Well, thanks,” I drawled when she managed to make it even worse. “I always wanted to know how it would feel if my chin disappeared between my boobs.”

She laughed and let go of the dress, watching my boobs bounce in the aftermath. Then she reached out with her finger and pushed at the swell of my breast.

“It feels nice, right?” I asked, pressing with my own finger at my other breast. “Like a soft cloud. That’s why I love sleeping on yours.”

She nodded absently. “You definitely look like a D.”

“I’m not a D. Barely a C.”

“Well, the dress makes you look like a D.” She pulled back her finger and looked up at my face, then back at my boobs. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?”

“Actually your face looks smaller than your boobs. It’s weird. I hope I don’t look like that when I’m wearing a strapless dress. If I do and you never said anything…”

“I will definitely tell you if your face looks ten times smaller than your boobs.” I walked back to the mirror just so I could see if there was even a small possibility of me wearing it that night. The dress was beautiful; the way it hugged my body actually did wonders for my waist and hips, but there was no way I could go out in public and quite possibly in front of cameras looking like I was about to eat my own bosom. “If I didn’t have short hair, I might’ve actually considered wearing it, just to get people’s attention—and when I say people, I mean hot men. No, not hot boys, hot men.” I managed to let out a sigh. “Because hot boys suck. Jameson was a hot boy with a big dick and tattoos, but I want hot men and their—hopefully—big dicks.” I thought about that for a moment, then looked at Olive. “Okay, that’s not fair. I’ll share with the rest of the women in the world. I’ll settle with only one hot man. I won’t love him, but I’ll use him for sex. And he has to have a big dick. Like a dick that knows how to go to places, you know. Places not every dick can go.”

“I think I get it,” she replied, cutting off my tirade. “You want a big cock.”

“Ah,” I sighed softly, holding my heart. “Do you even know how happy it makes my heart to hear you say ‘big cock’. I feel like you’ve grown so much. And I don’t just want a big dick, Olive. I want a killer dick. There is a difference. I’d like to have a thick one, not too long, though, because I don’t wanna be poked in all the wrong places. My dear vagina needs to be able to take it all in and hug. I want a killer dick, like it needs to put me into a coma after sex.”

She laughed and got off the bed. “Got it. We’ll order you a killer dick online. A pink one. And what are you even talking about? Have you even read my book? I say cock and dick plenty of times. I say even more…stuff.”

“But writing it and saying it are two very different things. I bet Jason gets a boner every time you say cock.” I grinned. “Do you try out scenes with him? Like when you get horny while you’re writing a specific scene, do you call him to say, ‘Come home and do me, Jason’? Does he have a killer dick, Olive?”

Trying her best to ignore me, she got off the bed to look at the other dresses that were hanging on the rack the stylist had left behind, as if she could escape me. “How about this one?” she asked, holding up another beautiful dress that was powder pink with almost nonexistent straps and a plunging neckline.

“First of all, you suck at changing the subject; we need to work on that.”

She huffed and turned her back to me again as she fumbled with the remaining dresses.

“Second, there is nothing wrong with wanting a big dick that can please my vagina. And last but not least, why are you so intent on letting my boobs out to play tonight?”

“Because I don’t want to stick out.”

“Oh, I think it’s too late for that. You wrote the book and they turned it into a movie. Not sticking out is out of the question, I believe, and I’m not sure my boobs would be of any help in that matter anyway. Do you think they have magic or something?”

“Fine. Try this one,” she ordered, pushing the powder pink dress into my hands.

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