Page 9 of Mark my Words

The eye roll and head shake caused him to laugh at me and tap his stylus on the screen. “Whatever, Sam, so substitute ‘dick’ a few times.”

“But it doesn’t have the same impact,” he mused, pulling his lip to the side and looking up at the ceiling. He looked simultaneously foolish and adorable when he was thinking. At least, I assumed that was his thinking face. Either that, or he was plain ridiculous.

“It’s fine. I’d rather have the scene read easier than being a cockfest.” I found myself giggling along with him as he burst into laughter.

“Cockfest? Really?”

“Oh, shut up,” I scoffed. “You know what I meant.”

“No, I’m not sure what you meant. Please elaborate on this cockfest situation,” he sputtered, trying to keep a lid on his amusement.

“I hate you.” I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms, my nipples deceiving me with their hypersensitivity. The words on the page had gotten to me, not the man across the table. I hated it when people mocked me, mostly when they were mildly attractive, cocky men who thought that they were better than me.

“I’m aware.” The annoying smirk stayed on his face as I went in and put a few suggestions for rephrasing on the page that helped the sequence read a little easier. “I still think it was fine the first time.”

“Well, fine isn’t going to get him on the Times list again,” I pointed out, only slightly mocking. Fine wasn’t acceptable with something that would have Chase’s name attached to it, either. It was ten times harder to break into the big time for women writers than men, and since she was a romance novelist, she was already devalued. We weren’t about to give anyone any excuses to think Evan’s work with this book was subpar and blame her.

“Let’s move to the next section,” Sam suggested as he scrolled down the page to the next scene.

“Whatever,” I sighed. I was already bored with this. Sam would argue with my suggestions no matter what they were simply because he didn’t like how I did things.

“Do you want me to read it aloud, or do you want...” he trailed off, his cheeks turning a tiny bit red. Hmm. Now there was something that would make things interesting. Reading side by side had obviously affected us somewhat with the first scene, but it was, by far, one of the tamer selections we were editing.

“That’s a great idea,” I agreed, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. I had a feeling Sam would be flustered within a few sentences.

He cleared his throat, put his arm across the back of my chair as he leaned in, and started scanning the page for the start of the next scene. “Is it okay if I start right here?” He pointed his stylus at the beginning of the scene, where the prostitute goes into the man’s office they suspect of murder and fellates him to get information.

“Looks perfect. Go right ahead,” I choked out, biting my lip to keep from laughing. This was going to be good.

“Kallie had always known that using her body as a weapon was the best way to protect herself…“ Sam read clearly in his deep timbre. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment to keep a shudder from trailing down my spine as his warm breath flowed over the side of my neck. “If you wanted to survive in a male-dominated world, you had to learn what made them tick. What their motivations were. And where their weaknesses lie...”

Sam cleared his throat softly, the hair on the back of my neck standing up at the sound. “Donald Harrell’s weakness had always been in his pants, and every one of the girls who worked in his club knew it. Having a big dick was something that could either get you a lot of attention or become your greatest asset...”

“Pfft...” A soft sound of disgust slipped through my lips before I could help it, and I could feel Sam’s chest bump against my shoulder lightly as he tried to smother a laugh.

“Something funny?”

“No...” I shook my head as I released a sigh. “It’s just. Really? The bad guy has to have a giant dick?”

Sam couldn’t contain his laughter this time, and I gripped the stylus in my palm more firmly as his body brushed against mine again. “What does it matter?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “it seems a little gimmicky.”

Sam pointed at the following sentence. I knew what Evan was trying to set up, but I was not too fond of it when men let the appendage in their pants determine how gigantic their other head became. “She manipulates his inflated ego to get him to admit things.”

“And you can’t appeal to the ego of a guy with a normal-sized penis?” There were far more of those than the ones with anacondas in their pants.

“You can, but being well endowed made him...cocky,“ Sam laughed softly.

“Oh, my God.” I couldn’t help the laughter that slipped out. I honestly didn’t understand men sometimes. They all had ego issues. Why did they have to be tied to what was—or wasn’t—in their pants?

“Okay, poor choice of words, but she’s using what she knows to manipulate him. I don’t think the size necessarily matters; it’s that he’s got that whole big dick energy thing going on.”

“Excuse me? What?” I laughed, hating that Sam was funny when he wanted to be. Donald’s weakness may have been his penis, but mine was a man with a good sense of humor.

“Don’t play dumb, Kristine. I know you’ve heard of Big Dick Energy. It’s not an uncommon term.” Knowing that if I looked back, he’d see my expression.I imagined the eye roll that I knew Sam was performing.

“It’s a stupid term,” I muttered, trying to rein in my wayward thoughts.

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