Page 94 of Dance of Defiance
Me
I actually refuse to believe you’ve never sucked a guy off before.
Me
WAY too fucking good at it. You blew my fucking mind, wreckage.
I almost don’t send the next one. But fuck it, why not.
Me
you’re such a good little cocksucker, and you look so fucking hot on your knees.
Message: read.
Message: unreplied to.
God. Dammit.
An idea pops into my head. I half peel down my tights, positioning my phone to take a tasteful, artistic shot of my semi to shock Roman into responding.
“Oh,hellfucking no.”
I wince when I hear the voice behind me, pull up my tights and lock my phone before I turn to grin innocently at Naomi. “What?”
“What?” She glares at me, towel tied around her, her hands on her hips. “Don’t fuckingwhatme. If you want to send dick pics to one of your little fuck buddies, do it somewhere else.”
“Eww!” Milena laughs as she steps past Naomi, also wrapped in a towel. “Dude, you do that in here and you arepermanently banished. For real. Also…” She shakes her head. “No one wants a dick pic.”
“Ibegto differ,” I grin.
She rolls her eyes, trying not to laugh as she turns around to open her locker.
“Besides, it wasn’t adick pic,” I say indignantly. “It was a tasteful, artistic nude.”
“Jesus,” Naomi sighs, laughing as she turns away from me and starts pulling on sweats and a hoodie.
“Please,” I smirk. “A hundred bucks says if I went through your phone, I’d findplentyof up close and personal shots of Nico’s pierced little buddy.”
Naomi whirls toward me, her mouth falling open.
Milena giggles as she buttons up her shirt. “Girl, youdidlet the piercing thing slip when we were drunk, remember?”
Naomi groans, burying her face in her hands briefly before shooting me a look. “Well, you’re not getting your hands on my phone.” Her lips curl into a slightly hidden grin. “And FYI, there’s nothinglittleabout the situation.”
Milena and I both burst out laughing as our friend blushes.
“That’s my girl,” I grin, shaking my head and turning away to wrap a towel around my waist. I strip off my tights and head toward the showers, grinning to myself. I didn’t really have this before I joined the Zakharova: the friends, the camaraderie.
And the thing is,I need it. I need these girls, this sense of belonging, almost like a family. It’s not necessarily a mask, more like a security blanket. But there’s no question: this closeness is something I need to survive.
To drown out the echoes of my childhood.
The abuse.
The fights.
The amnesia.
