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12

Eliza

I

  can still taste Lev on the back of my tongue as I take a sip of my water. The ice jingles in the glass, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the hammering of my heart. It hasn’t

slowed down since I felt him release in my mouth and I realized I liked it.

I’ve done stuff like that before with Noah, but he wasn’t clean like Lev is. He didn’t taste good. It was bitter and unappealing, but Lev was totally different. It turned me on when I tasted him, and the groans that rumbled out of his chest gave me goosebumps.

If he asked me to do it again, I’d crawl right up to his seat and blow him in front of everyone here. It’s so unlike me, but things are changing so fast that I don’t know who I am anymore. This is my opportunity to remake myself, and I’m quickly moving in a dangerous direction.

Do I want to be a classy artist living big in New York?

Or do I want to be some Russian millionaire’s arm candy? I hat
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