Beneath the Sheets
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he said.
I looked away quickly… was it hot in here on something?
“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered and turned away.
He had the audacity to shrug, “Well, I guess it is your loss then.”
Smug son of a bitch.
Desmond walked straight to the coffee machine and made himself a coffee, and guess what, it was all black coffee, no milk, no sugar…. It was absolutely disgusting.
“You know that only psychopaths drink their coffee like that, don’t you?” I said, and he arched his brows at me, “and you are drinking hot chocolate like you don’t care for diabetes. How even old are you, drinking chocolate like a fucking kid?”
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