Not quite arrogance. Decide. Indian porn She bites her lip, eyes: down. Precise. She realises her eyes haven’t moved off the box- and that now her face is flushed, and the smallest beads of sweat are forming on her brow. It’s. She moves quicker than him and snatches it, instinctively; a stab of resentment at the small remnant of his smile flicker-sneering over his eyes. In a restaurant. He grabs his phone, and starts purposelessly clicking. He’s got no fucking shame. ‘Don’t you like it?’
She can’t look at him. With that, she precision-places the small square of paper on the table in front of him, turns, and walks off. In a restaurant. Don’t you like it?’
She looks around. It was covered in spotty paper and, it had a small bow on it. Ever.’
‘Or, you can open it here at the table, read the instructions, and we’ll use it together, when you’re ready. And yet. Fuck. It makes a distinct pop as she presses it open with her thumb. Cunt. About 4cm wide at the widest part, and shaped like a teardrop, extending to a sparkling jewel at the other end. Blind-sided. A kind of brusque, charming offhanded manner that on one day left her wondering exactly how much he’d wanted her, then the next day was intense, direct, incisive and irritatingly close to the
