Chapter 7

So, a real cock in my mouth? Much different than fruit. First of all, Cain was warm and his cock tasted like skin. Like licking my arm. The texture was definitely an improvement over a banana peel, but conversely I wasn’t used to having so much of him around me. His legs were on either side of my lower body, and his thighs brushed against my arms. I could see the flat plane of his rock-solid abs in front of me, and the trimmed, dark hair behind his shaft.

Yep. Totally different, with so many senses firing. As I slid my tongue down the side of him, testing the flavor, I marveled that I could smell him too. Just an essence of man. Not sweat. Not anything offensive, but something elemental that excited me a little, if I was honest.

Then there was the sound of him. The low growl in the back of his throat, encouraging me, murmuring, “That’s it, Soph. You’ve got it.”

And his hands. Buried in the back of my hair, not pushing me, but locked on me, not allowing a retreat if I had wanted to. Which I didn’t.

Because it was very, very sexy to be sucking on Cain. Because it made me feel in control for the first time with him. Like I had the upper hand, even though I was on my knees on the carpet in front of him. My hair slipped forward and I shook it back, disengaging from him briefly. He gave a groan of disappointment. Since I had been prepping him the way I had learned, with teasing strokes of both my tongue and my hand, I figured maybe I should ask him if he had particular preferences.

I gazed up at him. His blue eyes were dark with desire, his jaw set. “I feel fairly confident I learned what I could in a classroom setting. But I’m sure you can instruct me more specifically as to what you like.”

“What do I like? I like you, being confident. That’s hot as hell. But to be more specific, all I’m going to say is remember it’s a three-piece part. Don’t forget the balls.”

Don’t forget the balls. I cataloged that information away. “Got it.” I ran my fingertip down the length of him to the base of his shaft and drew it across the taut skin of his testicles. I’d never really studied a penis in the wild. It did seem kind of crazy that it fit inside me. But it had, to utter perfection. Fascinated by the way his skin tightened the more I touched him, I cupped his balls in my palm and played with the shifting sensation. What an anatomical oddity.

Then I remembered I was supposed to squeeze, applying pressure at the base of his cock. So I wrapped my fingers around him, pumped up and down a few times to test it, then gave a soft squeeze, afraid to apply too much pressure.

He seemed to approve though. He tilted my head so I could see him. “Don’t be afraid of it. Grip it harder.”

“Really? Are you sure?” It was so swollen it just seemed like more pressure would hurt.

“Positive. I’ll tell you if it’s too much but I like it hard.”

“Okay.” I squeezed harder and at the same time dropped my mouth down over him, taking him into my mouth until I reached my own hand. He jerked a little and gave another low moan. That seemed to be a success.

So I repeated it, finding a rhythm that worked for me and was clearly working for him. I ran through in my head the repertoire of tricks we had been told about in the class, and decided when his grip tightened in my hair that I needed to tease. I pulled back off him entirely and Cain swore. Then I went back down, my saliva having left a slick path for me. It was easy to take him deep, remembering to open my throat so as not to gag myself.

“Fuck, Sophie.”

I pulled off again. With my left hand I quickly reached around my back and undid my bra. He seemed to like that idea because he eased up on my hair to slip the straps over my shoulders himself. It was a fact most men are visually stimulated, and I had to imagine tits pressing against his legs would not be a bad thing. Briefly I sat up so I could ditch the bra and push my hair back off my face. Then I wiped my damp lips while he reached out and palmed my breast.

He thought I was done and he was willing to let me retreat. But he was wrong. I was nowhere near done yet. I hadn’t made him crazy yet. I wanted to do to him what he had done to me when he was licking my pussy. Reach some intense connection with his body.

So I put my hands on his thighs and fitted my mouth over him again, hands free. There was something just as sexy about that. Like hey, just sucking on a cock here.

“Holy shit,” was his opinion.

It was a hard angle to sustain so after a few strokes I gripped him again, using my other hand to press against his abs. Those firm, workingman’s abs. He was so damn hot. So much naked flesh and it was all for me to explore. I was curious about every inch of him even though it was almost overwhelming to be surrounded by so much raw masculinity.

I ran my tongue down his cock and back up, watching him carefully. “Am I doing this right?” I asked.

“Top of the class, baby. Trust me. A-plus, one hundred fucking percent.”

Even if he was just being nice, it just validated me, made me smile. I wanted to reward him for being so encouraging and patient with me. Cain didn’t know me at all, and yet it seemed to matter to him that I enjoy myself.

So I took him deep again and this time I maintained a fast, wet rhythm up and down, my hand following my lips. I was dedicated, determined. My own body felt heavy, tense, tingling. It was crazy but I was wet from pleasuring him. It was like an equation had balanced and that was always supremely satisfying.

I wanted him to come in my mouth. Because I had to assume men enjoyed it. That certainly featured heavily in porn and male talk in movies. But also because women seemed to have wildly varying opinions on it, from enjoyment to sheer hatred and disgust, and I wanted to weigh in for myself.

But Cain didn’t let me. He was way stronger than I was and when he pushed me off him, I half fell on my side against the couch, breathing hard, lips slick and wet. His hands gripped my shoulders, holding me away from him. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

He just shook his head. “Not a fucking thing. Gold star, Sophie.” He put his hands under my armpits and hauled me up, onto the couch. “It’s just your turn, that’s all.”

“I wanted to finish you,” I protested. It felt like my assignment hadn’t been completed.

Cain eyed me. He seemed to get my need. “You can in a minute. I just want to taste your pussy.”

This language coming from any other guy I had dated would have offended me or made me uncomfortable, but with Cain it was hot. Sexy. “Okay,” I said, even though he wasn’t exactly asking my permission.

He was unbuttoning my jeans. Then he tugged them down, hard. They got stuck on my hips. “Lift your ass,” he told me fiercely.

I obeyed him. A shiver ran through me as the air hit my bare skin. He took down my panties with my jeans in a swift, feral gesture. I stared at him, excited by his expression. Like he wanted to fuck me so hard but he was resisting the urge. For me. His cock was hard, tapping my thigh as he divested me of my clothes. Cain actually threw my pants, turned inside out, over his shoulder. His silver necklace hit my skin first when he bent over. It was cool and teased against my soft curls before sliding down as he moved into position between my legs.

Letting my head drop back I waited in anticipation for Cain to touch me. I thought he would go right for his tongue on me, but he startled me by massaging my labia with both thumbs, running up and down. Then he teased me apart and I felt a puff of warm air as he blew on me. I jerked a little, giving a nervous squawk. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just playing, Soph. I want to see what you like, see what I can do to you.”

I did too. I just wasn’t sure I could handle it. Just what he was doing, stroking me, was driving me crazy. I didn’t have a response to his statement. I just knew that for whatever reason, Cain knew how to touch me. He teased and stroked, dipping a finger inside me until I wanted to scream. It wasn’t relaxing. It was frustrating, but in an oddly delicious sort of way.

By the time he flicked his tongue over my clit, I was moaning without shame and running my fingers through his hair. Such a bizarre thing, what we were doing. Two total strangers, rubbing bodies together. It was an invasion of the most intimate nature and yet it felt so natural. So right. He ran his tongue up and down, and I felt the tension in me building. How could something feel so amazing? It was so strange to me to be completely devoid of all my usual thoughts, fixations, questions. My mind was a hazy, warm appreciation of his attention, but nothing more.

He took me close to the edge but right when I could have been a stroke or two from orgasm he lifted his head.

“Don’t stop.” I tried to push his head back down but he just shook his head and grinned.

“Now it’s my turn again.”

That confused me. “What’s the point in that?” Why couldn’t we just finish each other the way we had started?

Cain gave a soft laugh as he shifted up the length of my body. “Where’s the fun in that? This is called foreplay. The goal is not to be done as fast as possible. It’s to get each other so hot we can’t stop it anymore.”

“I’m very goal-oriented,” I said. Because I wanted him to understand. But I also wanted to understand. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” My body felt heavy and overstimulated. His weight on me was foreign and invasive, yet welcome. I felt very feminine and maybe even a little sexy. Which was new to me. I never felt seductive.

“Yes, you do. Look at how good you were at sucking my cock.”

Speaking of, it was suddenly right in my face.

“Suck it again, Sophie.”

“At this angle?” I was still on my back. But I was intrigued. If this was what he wanted, I was willing to try it. “I didn’t do this with the bananas.”

He paused and gave a low moan. “Shit, don’t give me a visual like that. You naked, on a couch, taking a banana in your mouth, your finger in your hot, wet pussy.”

Then his cock was pressing into my mouth and I took it. Just as well because I had no response to his fantasy of me.

There was no way to use my hands in this position so I just opened my jaw and let him stroke in and out of me. This was…interesting. I shouldn’t like it at all but there was something just so raw and dirty about it that it drew an ache from my core. I gripped his thighs, needing something to hold on to. Everything felt hot and urgent, my space not my own. For a girl who spent the majority of her time with math scholars who were mostly introverts, this was a lot of man.

He pulled back without warning, leaving me gasping for a deep breath, my bottom lip moist with saliva. He retreated back down between my thighs and I gasped when he flicked hard over me, his touch hard, his pace faster. I came almost instantly. I had no control over it. It just swept over me before I could react. I couldn’t cry out or moan. I had no air, no voice. Just flying. My body splintering into a million pieces, my mind frozen under an avalanche of ecstasy.

Cain followed through until I stopped shuddering, then raised his head to watch me, his eyes dark and satisfied. “Breathe, Sophie,” he commanded.

He was right. Breathe. I needed to. I let out a huge rush of air, feeling dizzy. Cain stood up and reached out a hand to me. “Sit up.”

I did, but mostly because he pulled me. My hands were trembling and I wiped my bottom lip as the room seemed to tilt a little.

“Finish me,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Like you wanted to.”

I nodded. I did want to. Now I felt almost crazed, totally not myself. I didn’t feel awkward, just aggressive. Like the wolf had given some of his wildness to Red Riding Hood. So I reached for him, lessons in the back of my mind. But mostly I went on instinct, listening to his breathing, registering the feel of his hands squeezing harder when I did something he liked.

The change was subtle, but I sensed it. His balls got tighter, his cock harder. Then he swore and there was a rush of warmth saltiness in my mouth. It was so shocking I just stayed the way I was, and a split second later he was gone, leaving me sitting there watching his retreat, unsure of what I was supposed to do.

I must have looked panicked because he held his hand out under my mouth and said, “It’s okay, baby, just let it go.”

Relieved that I didn’t have to swallow it, I did, feeling a little guilty. It was sticky and I wiped my lip as he pulled his hand away with his business contained. It didn’t look as much in volume as it had felt in my mouth and I said, “I’m sorry.”

“What? No. Don’t be sorry.” With his other hand he tucked my hair behind my ear. “That was amazing. I didn’t expect you to swallow. One step at a time. Do that when you’re ready.”

I nodded. I could admit it. I wasn’t there yet.

He went in to the kitchen and quickly washed his hand and grabbed our beers. “Here, have a drink.”

I envisioned that glob swirling down into his sink and hoped he wasn’t planning to wash vegetables there tomorrow. When he handed me a beer I took a big swallow, the cool liquid a welcome relief as it washed away the taste of him.

Cain drank half his beer in one sip. “That was fucking amazing. I just have to repeat saying that.” He raised his beer and said, “To you and your education.”

That made me laugh, and I sat there, a sense of giddiness washing over me. “You’re more fun than a banana.”

He laughed too. “God, I hope so.”

We looked at each other, both laughing. Our eyes locked and I felt a connection to him I hadn’t expected to. We had shared this.

Cain dropped down onto the couch next to me. “Just so you know, you’re not going to roll on out of here on me like last night. You’re going to cuddle and then when I’ve had a minute to recover, I’m going to fuck you. So prepare yourself.”

I blinked. I hadn’t thought about leaving immediately but I was glad he didn’t want me to. “How do I prepare myself for that?”

With a snort, he said, “I guess you go get in my bed. After I finish my beer.”

He did with one swallow. “Actually, maybe one more. You want another beer?”

“No. I have to drive home. After you fuck me.”

He gave me a sidelong glance. “Are you being a smart-ass?”

I was. “No, of course not. I’m literal, remember?” But my smile gave me away.

“Sassy. That’s new. I like it.”

It seemed like I should be self-conscious about sitting there naked, but that wasn’t bothering me. Maybe sex stalled my OCD. That would be a bonus.

Looking around the living room, I asked, “How long have you lived here?”

He shrugged. “Like two years. What, you don’t approve of my decorating?”

“No, I have no opinion on that score. I don’t know anything about decorating. That’s my sister’s area of expertise.”

“You and your sister are about as different as siblings can get, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Yes. But she’s a genuinely kind person. More so than me.”

“You’re a mean girl? I doubt that.”

“Not a mean girl. But nurturing isn’t my specialty.”

“You felt pretty nurturing to me.” Cain winked at me. “And she may be kind but your sister is also bossy and vain. So don’t put her on some level above you.”

I wanted to defend Bella but his point was fair. “What about your brother?”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one brother?”

“I have three brothers, one sister.”

“That’s a lot of brothers. But I meant your twin.”

“What about him?”

It was a touchy subject. His jaw had tensed but his words were light. I decided I would be stupid to kill the mood between us. “I don’t like him,” I said, which was the truth.

“Good. You shouldn’t.” He tapped my knee. “Do you like me?”

“Yes.” Maybe more than I should. “Do you like me?” It wasn’t a needy question. I knew he couldn’t necessarily have any opinion of me as a person because we didn’t really know each other. I just meant was he enjoying our flirtation, our time together.

But he gave me a look I didn’t understand. At once both intense and searching. Though he just said, “Sure,” and shrugged. Like it didn’t matter to him.

I wasn’t offended. I was a little disappointed because I wanted him to remember me, later on. When I was gone and he was living his life. I wanted to be a girl in his sea of one-night stands that he actually could point to and say he had fun and remembered details. And here he had called my sister vain. I was guilty of the same flaw.

So I didn’t bother to pursue it or dig deeper. That’s not why I was there. I took a sip of my beer.

“Let’s go in my bedroom and I’ll show you how much I like you.” Cain took my chin and tilted my head so I was facing him again. “Because I do really, really like you, Sophie. So much so it’s a little fucking unnerving.”

His words warmed me from the inside out. It didn’t feel like a line. Even if it was, I was willing to believe it anyway because it felt good. For once to have a hot guy saying he was into me. “You don’t seem like the type to scare easily,” I whispered.

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Anger is more my thing than fear.”

“Do I make you angry?”

“Not at all.” He stood up and I saw that he was hard again.

That seemed amazing in its own right. I gestured to his erection. “Did I make you do that?”

“Yep.”

“How did I do that? So I can do it again if necessary.”

“Just be you. It’s been turning me on since the minute you first opened your mouth.”

If there was one thing I knew how to do it was to be me.

“I’m going to go get in your bed now,” I told him.

---

Sophie, with her little fierce expression, did things to me. I was hard again faster than I would have thought possible and when she stood up quickly, knocking into me, I wanted to slam her into the nearest wall and drive my cock up into her.

That had been a hot blow job. Because she was serious, so dedicated, so determined to learn. For a split second I wondered what Sophie would be like after months of sexual exploration. My dick almost exploded at the thought. I dismissed it immediately because it was going to destroy me but also because that wouldn’t be my right. The task of furthering her education would belong to some other guy. A Harvard guy. Whose brains were bigger than his dick.

It made me angry. It reminded me of why I wasn’t worthy of her and why I wasn’t worthy to be Camp’s father. Because I simmered with rage, and I wanted whiskey in the worst way to make that ache go away.

Sex would distract me though. It always did. At least for a few minutes.

This time though I followed Sophie down my hallway and watched the curve of her heart-shaped ass sway as she entered my bedroom. At least I had changed the sheets. Because I was fucking classy. The thought amused me. It cooled my anger.

I climbed on the bed beside Sophie and I said, “Ride me.” It would force me to stay in control. I wouldn’t be able to pound into her, taking her body hard, like I could thrust away all the shit in my life. I didn’t want to do that to Sophie. I didn’t want to use her any more than the normal way of using someone for sex.

“Okay.” She tentatively moved over me. “How do I get it in?”

“Lift your hips and I’ll do it.” I liked this view. But she was too much in shadow. The night before I’d allowed her moonlight. Now I wanted to see everything. I reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp.

She squinted. “That’s bright.”

“You’ll get used to it.” I wanted to see every inch of her body. And almost more important, I wanted to see the expressions that crossed her face. Witness the passion I could stoke in her. I lightly tapped her ass. “Quit complaining.”

Sophie frowned as she lifted herself up. “I wasn’t—

But then I thrust into her and she cut off midsentence.

“Oh!”

When it seemed like she wasn’t going to relax and ease down onto my cock I took her hips and did it for her. Her eyes widened. This time when she said, “Oh,” it was more of a moan.

“That’s it.” I thrust up into her. Damn, that hot, wet, tight pussy. I could get addicted to it. “Now, you move. Just test it out, see what works for you.”

Sophie took a deep breath and splayed her hands out on my chest. “I like your tattoos,” she said, moving her thumbs up and down in an odd gesture of intimacy.

“Thanks,” I said gruffly. Some of them I was proud of, some were stupid, gotten while drunk or pissed off or determined to prove something. Last time I had bothered to count, I had seven. “Now, show me what you got, Sophie.”

I saw her visibly and intentionally relax her shoulders, rolling them back. She did the same to her hips, giving in to gravity and letting her body sink more fully onto mine. Then Sophie reached up and pulled a hair from her lip, before raking her hair back at her temples. It gave me the world’s best view of her tits and I reached up and cupped them, teasing at her nipples.

She seemed startled by that but after a second she started to move. The first few motions were awkward, but then she got into it. She found her spot and she settled into a steady stroke. I forced myself to just watch and let her discover her body, her pleasure. It was hot as hell to see the understanding slowly dawning and she rode her way to an orgasm.

At one point she leaned forward and rested her hands on the bed on either side of me; most likely her leg muscles were tired. Sophie didn’t look athletic. Her nipples brushed against my chest. Her hair fell forward, a dark curtain around my face. She was making sweet sounds of ecstasy and I felt like if I could close my eyes, I could breathe them in. That I could absorb her innocence into my pickled and tainted self. But just before I let my eyes drift shut so I could enjoy the feel of her wet pussy gripping me, I realized there were tears in her eyes. Not trailing down her cheeks. Just moisture welling.

It startled me but I didn’t want to call her out or embarrass her. I just reached up and cupped her cheek and stroked the softness of her skin. I was out of my element here. I didn’t think she was physically hurting. Especially because she actually picked up the pace, seeming a little frantic to find the ultimate pleasure. I wondered if she was crying from frustration, chasing an orgasm. So I reached down and found her swollen clit. I circled the pad of my finger over it and she let out a cry, her orgasm sweeping over her.

I’ve seen a lot of women break. More than I could count, not that I ever had. But I had never seen a woman’s eyes light up with the first dawn of understanding of what passion was, and what it could be. Watching Sophie was a new experience. One that both made me feel tender toward her and scared the fucking shit out of me. I didn’t want her to have feelings for me. She couldn’t fall for me. That was a bad idea. The stupidest move a genius girl could make.

When she slowed her motions, her hands were trembling. Her lip was trembling. Her breathing was huge and cresting. Something that resembled a sob ripped from her, and a tear squeezed out and slid down her cheek. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, swiping at her eye. “I’m not upset. It just feels so damn good. I can’t explain it.” She raised a shaky leg and collapsed onto the bed beside me. “I didn’t know that it would be like this.”

“Like what?” I asked, voice gravelly. Rough. She had touched something in me. Something I had thought was frozen solid. Sophie Bigelow and her big, brown eyes had started a thaw at the edges of my icy soul.

Sophie shook her head. “I can’t stay up like that any longer.” She reached over and stroked me, watching me. “You’ll have to take over.”

Part of me wanted to get an answer out of her. Figure out why there were still tears in her eyes. The larger part of me wanted to avoid her answers as firmly as I avoided sobriety. If she didn’t want to tell me, it was none of my fucking business.

So I rolled her fully onto her back and I thrust inside her warm and welcoming body. The soft moan she gave was everything. Music to my ears. Her eyes drifted shut. I couldn’t look away. Watching her had me transfixed. Damn, she was beautiful. So sweet, so trusting. So fucking sexy.

I buried my hand in her hair so I could wrap it around my fingers and tug just a little. Force her eyes open. I wanted her to see me when she came. I wanted her to know that it was me making her feel this way.

“What?” she asked, even as she rolled her hips, met me thrust for thrust.

I shook my head. “Nothing. Just look at me when you come.”

“How do you know I’m going to come?”

“I can feel it.” I could. I could also see it in the blush that spread across her chest above her breasts. In the way her breathing froze momentarily. And the way her pussy clenched onto me. It was there in her eyes too, as they widened right before she came.

She was doing all of that now.

“You’re going to come, Sophie, aren’t you?”

She nodded, soundless. Then she broke with a little cry of pleasure.

When she would have allowed her eyes to drift shut I gruffly commanded, “Look at me. Let me see you.”

I wanted her to experience all of this. Every minute. And hell, if I was honest, I wanted to take that view for myself. Hold on to it. See that gorgeous fucking face when she realized that my cock had rocked her to hot, wet pleasure.

She was gasping for air as she came down, but I took her hard, careening toward the edge myself. It had been a long time since I had fucked someone when I was sober. It was amazing how much more I felt. It was like every nerve ending in my body was on fire. Alcohol dulled my sensations, made me numb. A frozen cock pumping into a hot body. But this? Fucking amazing. I felt alive. I felt everything. The hot, sweet heat of her tight pussy. The silk of her skin. The brush of her fingertips against my chest.

It was in that place of explosive sensation that I came too, allowing myself a curse and her name to leave my lips.

Then I was collapsing on her, crushing her, but not caring. I rested my forehead on hers. “Damn.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Yeah.”

I fell to the side and stroked her arm. I had to know. “So why were you crying? Are you sure I wasn’t hurting you?”

Sophie shook her head, swallowing hard. “No, you weren’t. It’s just…I don’t know if I can explain it. I live my life in here.” She tapped her forehead. “In tune with my brain, my thoughts. I don’t really have that kind of connection with my body.”

Lazily, I stroked over her slick pussy, drawing moisture out onto her thigh. “You feel pretty connected to me. But I get what you’re saying.” I did. Her education had been narrow.

Her leg slipped over mine. “I am finally starting to grasp how much pleasure we are capable of.” But then she shook her head. “That sounds awkward, but it’s true. I’ve given myself pleasure and I understood all of this in theory, but actually experiencing it is totally different.”

“I understand.” I did. Sometimes I felt too alive. It was why I drank. To dull the reality. If she spent the majority of her time in academics, sex was setting off pheromones she wasn’t used to. “You of all people should know that sex releases happy hormones and shit.”

“Me of all people?” She gave me a smile, pushing her hair back. “What does that mean?”

“Girl genius. Surely you picked up on random sex facts over the years, Miss Blow Him Away.” That still killed me, that she had taken a blow job class. Who does that? Sophie.

Sophie’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah. So this is the effect of oxytocin? I did read that its release decreases your urge for carbs and increases your urge to procreate.”

That made no sense to me because I was pretty sure I could smash a pizza right then. I gave her a sidelong look. “I feel no urge whatsoever to procreate.”

Sophie laughed. “No, I meant in women.”

This was a conversation guaranteed to kill my hard-on. “Do you feel the urge to procreate? Because that’s a no from me.”

“Oh, stop!” She smacked me in the chest. “I do not want to procreate. I’m not sure if I even want to have children, but if I do I’ll be at least thirty. At least.”

“You’re the one who brought up the urge to procreate.”

“Fair enough.” She smiled at me, her cheeks still flushed by those same hormones. “Do you want kids?”

That made every muscle in my body tense. I did not want to be a dick to Sophie. I didn’t. I forced myself to relax, and let my fists release. “I would have to say no. Considering I might have one and I’ll never know or not.”

I don’t know why I decided to tell Sophie. Maybe because she was being honest and straightforward with me. Maybe because she had decided to trust me. Maybe because I was sober. Maybe it didn’t even matter.

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you want to know why I hate my brother, the answer is simple. He fucked my girlfriend. And then nine months later Camp came along.”

It wasn’t very often that I could even force the little boy’s name off my lips. I didn’t like the name. It was yet another of Ali’s indulgent moves. Camp was a noun, not a name. But whatever. The major reason I couldn’t speak his name out loud was because it hurt so damn bad.

I had thought he was mine. Had anticipated his birth. Been excited.

Then it had all come crashing down around me in the most glorious explosion of family drama. Jerry Springer shit.

And Ali had rolled and I had walked into the arms of my favorite lover. Booze.