Her Dirty Little Games
And when it was Amara’s turn, Joyce dared her to sit on Sandra’s lap and whisper something dirty in her ear.
The way Sandra smirked afterward made us all scream.
I was breathless from laughing, my cheeks hurting, when Sandra leaned back against the couch and grinned at me.
“Alright, birthday girl,” she said. “Your turn again. Dare or truth?”
I hesitated, sipping my drink. “Dare.”
Her grin widened. “Perfect.”
“Oh no,” I muttered.
She leaned closer. “I dare you…” She paused for dramatic effect. “…to make the priest fall for you.”