Naked Scripts
I gasp, then moan as he grinds deep.
“Liar,” he growls, and makes me come again, silently this time, tears mixing with the water.
5 minutes later,nwe’re dried off (barely), me in tiny sleep shorts and his T-shirt, him in sweatpants. We’re on the couch when Mom’s FaceTime ringtone blares from the coffee table.
Ryan pulls me onto his lap sideways, innocent as hell, blanket over us. He hits accept.
Mom’s face fills the screen, tanned and smiling from some Italian café.