“Don’t talk shit about your body. I fucking love your body. Especially when you’re naked and I’m on top of you, and even more when I’m inside you. Shit. Now I’m hard. Again. You’d think after last night and this morning I’d be done with the hard-ons.”

“Your dick giving you problems?” This is easier than conversation about my family. All his attention isn’t because he wants to date me. We just have insane chemistry, and he wants to fuck a million orgasms out of me.

“My fantasies about you are what’s giving my dick problems. If you move here, they don’t have to be fantasies; I’ll get to live them out all the damn time. Then my dick wouldn’t be such a problem for me.”

“If I was there I’d put your dick on lockdown.” I have to pause and choke back a laugh. “In my vagina prison.”

“How soon can you get here?”

“Not for another two weeks.”

“Damn it. Prison never sounded so cozy before.”

“I’ll keep him locked up the entire time I’m in Chicago, if you want. We might actually get thrown in real prison, though, if we have to go out in public. And it might make our friends uncomfortable.”

“Miller and I are pretty open. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

I blush and snicker. “Anyway, it’s late. I should go.”

“Because you have to work in the morning?”

“Yup.”

“’Kay. I’mma go whack off to the pictures I took of you while you were sleeping last night.”

“Lies! I didn’t fall asleep.”

“You totally did. For about ten minutes. Night, Lily girl. I’m looking forward to spending time in pussy prison.”

Less than a minute later, I get a text. It’s a picture of me with my head on his chest. I’m definitely asleep. And we’re both naked. My hand is curled up under my chin, my lips are parted, and my hair is damp near my forehead. Randy’s smiling, and his stunning, honey-colored eyes are on the camera.

Another message comes from him:

Look at how gorgeous ur

My tummy flutters. He’s such a flirt and a charmer.

Another message comes in. This time it’s a video. It’s exactly the same scene as the picture, only not a still frame.

With his eyes still on the camera, he drags a fingertip down my cheek. “Lily, Lily, Lily, wake up for me.”

I moan in my sleep, but lift my head toward his voice.

“Come on, baby, open your eyes for me.”

I watch my lids flutter, another soft sound escaping. Randy’s not looking at the camera any more, he’s focused on me. “There you are. Didn’t I tell you? No time for sleeping tonight.”

“No time,” I murmur.

“That’s right. Where am I supposed to be right now?” His voice is whisper quiet, his chest rising and falling faster as I lift my head, blinking blearily up at him.

My lips curve into a coy smile. “Inside me.”

The video goes blurry when his mouth finds mine. His groan is the last thing I hear before the screen goes blank.

I’m so turned on right now. And a little mortified. But mostly turned on. Holy hell. Randy made a video while I was sleeping. He could use it for blackmail. Except that doesn’t make sense. I have nothing he wants. Apart from my vagina prison.

I think that was the third time we had sex. Or the fourth. I lost track after a while. They were all amazing. But the one time he was really sweet. So soft. Gentle. It was different. He put me on top. It’s all so hazy, and now I’m really sexed up.

I get another text:

I can delete those if u want, but I wanted u2cu how I cu.

I should tell him to delete them. Definitely. But I don’t. Instead I send one short message back:

It’s ok. U can keep them. Just 4u tho.

He response is quick:

No one sees u naked but me.

I slip my hand under the covers and between my legs and watch the video over and over until I come.

I don’t want to read into things, but all of this—Randy’s messages, the late-night phone calls, and now this video—feels like something dangerously real.

Chapter 22

Skates on Laces Out

LILY

Four days after my fight with my mom, she shows up at Sunny’s. I’ve been ignoring her messages. The second we see each other, we both burst into tears. Thankfully, no one’s home to witness the epic display of girliness. We sit on the couch in the Waters’ living room, cross-legged, facing each other.

“I’m so sorry, Lily.”

“I know you didn’t mean it.” I smooth my palm over my shin. I’m wearing the leggings Randy bought for me.

“But I said it, and I shouldn’t have. I can’t take it back, and I wish I could because as strong as you are, I know it hurts you to feel like a mistake.” She tucks my hair behind my ear. “You might not have been planned, but you’ve always been the best choice I made. The only thing I regret is not being able to give you more. I don’t ever want you to feel like you aren’t wanted.”

“I know you love me, Mom.” I hate these kinds of conversations. They’re hard. Emotional. They make me feel worse and better at the same time. “It wasn’t your fault he didn’t want either of us.”

I spent years sending my dad letters, school pictures, birthday cards. The only response we ever got was the child support check in the mail. By the time I was ten, I’d given up.