I sent the text from the back seat of a cab, dress stuck to my thighs, his c*m still leaking out of both holes.
Already came tonight. It wasn’t for you.
Callum called four times before I got home. I let them ring. He texted that I was drunk, that I was embarrassing, that Vivienne had asked where the girl in the red dress went. I put the phone face down and slept on a towel like something used.
At 10:12 the next morning a black car idled outside my building. The driver didn’t speak. He opened the back door and nodded at the curb. I got in wearing a coat over nothing Roman would have to fight, because I already knew how this day was going to go. My phone lit up in my lap.
Callum: I’m outside your door. Open it.
A second later, Roman’s name.
Don’t answer him. Camera on. Show me.
I angl
