Nikita Jackson

“As if he can hear my thoughts, Laz pulls me closer. “By the way, I fuck better than I dance,” he whispers in my ear. “Better than I sing. Better than I write. Better than I do most things.” He brushes my hair off my shoulder and slowly licks up the side of my neck before his lips come together right behind my ear. “Bet you didn’t know that about me. How much I love to fuck and how good I am at it.”
― Karina Halle, Bad at Love