73. Alice

ALICE

M y mouth opens, but I don’t know if I want to laugh, cry, or scream.

Because…

I close my mouth and swallow down the deranged sound that’s trying to burst out of my lungs.

I read the caption below the photo.

While snowed in at Bear Cove, Chef Mike gets more than a Second Bite of contestant Alice Hatter. More photos on page eight.

More photos.

Meaning they have more photos than the large one printed across the front page of the cheap tabloid.

I move my eyes over the photo again, taking in the look of bliss on my face as the sun shines off my loose hair. My head tipped back. My hands digging into Michael’s bare shoulders. His fingers… in my mouth.

“How?” I whisper.

How is there a photo of us mid-fuck on the kitchen chair?

It’s graphic.

Lewd.

But you really can’t see anything that you shouldn’t. Except for Michael’s bare back, his body blocking the front of mine.

And you can probably guess that he’s sucking my nipple into his mouth, but you can’t see it.

Something warm stirs in my center.

We look hot together.

“Turn to the other photos,” Michael says with his chest against my back, looking over my shoulder.

I flip to page eight.

And this time I do make a sound.

Because that’s Michael’s dick in my mouth.