“I write smut. I can show you a few things I’ve written.”

“I don’t read, I think.”

“Oh, really, Mr Cocky Wiz? Come over and let me be entertained by your brilliant mind then.”

So he did.

...

And somewhere around the time, I had his cock buried deep from behind and him pulling me up from all-fours to my knees, his arm wrapped around my neck and ordering my husband to kiss me while he denied my release for the fifth time...I had to admit, I didn’t give a flying flamingo whether he reads my stuff or not.