Five
Worse, the bottle points at Mark.
“Oh!… Lucky me,” he cheers, taking a swig.
“Give Sam a French kiss,” he adds with a naughty, reserved look, as if wanting a private show.
“Somewhat naughty request, huh, brother?” Sam says, taking my waist and sliding his tongue down my throat.
I sway slightly, dizzy and confused, the familiar heat in my stomach intensifying, every fiber of my body tingling.
“How about you guys have sex now?” Mark suggests.
“What?… What did you say?… Here?” I interrupt, eyes wide, looking at Sam, who stays silent.