Page 117 of Revelation

“Okay. Forgetting is something I’m good at.” He looks around at the half-eaten trays of food around us. “You hungry again, babe?”

“Hmm. I might be able to eat a little something-something.”

“Green beans? Some sort of squash-thing? What’s your pleasure, Party Girl?’

“Squasha la dick, please,” I say.

“Excellent selection.” He smears himself with a trail of veggies from his tattooed chest down to his tattooed waistline and then down his dick and balls—and then he lies back, his arms behind his head, his muscles bulging, his douche-y underarm tattoos on full, douche-y-McDouche-y-pants-display, and flashes me a lascivious grin. “Bon appetit, beau bébé.”

Without hesitation, I lean in and lick up every morsel of food off his pecs and abs and his “Overcome” tattoo and finally work my way downtown—and I’m not even the slightest bit grossed out as I do any of it. In fact, I find the entire experience highly enjoyable. When every crevice, ridge, crease, bulge, wrinkle, and fold of him is clean as a whistle, I continue licking and sucking on his hard-on for quite some time, doing my damnedest to give him the Katherine Morgan Ultimate Blowjob Experience, but although Josh seems to be enjoying himself tremendously, he doesn’t seem even close to climaxing.

“Dude. That is some serious stamina,” I finally say, sitting up and loosening my jaw. “Are you made of steel?”

“Sorry, babe. I’m too stoned to come. It feels amazing, though. But, yeah, you could stick a Dyson on there and I’m not gonna blow. Sorry.” He laughs and pulls me into him for a kiss. “Jesus, Kat. You’re so fucking beautiful, you make me wanna punch a professional athlete.”

I laugh. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you make me wanna roll you in Nutella and lick you from head to toe.”

“Will you please remind me to buy a huge jar of Nutella tomorrow?”

“Sure thing. As long as you remindmeto remindyouto buy a huge jar of Nutella tomorrow.”

We laugh hysterically.

“Shit,” Josh says. “I can barely remember my own name right now. I’m so fucking high.”

“Your name is Joshua William Faraday and you’re the sexiest man alive.”

“Thank you, Katherine Ulla Morgan. You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And you’re smart and sweet and funny, too. Best girl ever, ever, ever.Florebblaaaaaaaaaaaah.”

“Wow. Can you write my eulogy, please?”

“No, because I don’t want you to die. People always seem to die around me and I hate it.”

I make a sad face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m over it. Just please don’t die, Kat.”

“I’m totally down for that plan—I promise to live florebblaaaaaaah.”

“Cool. Let’s live florebblaaaah, just you and me. We’ll eat healthy, gourmet food sent to us by my dear brother and we’ll fulfill each other’s sick-fuck-fantasies and we’ll be happy, happy, happy florebblaaaaaah.”

“Okay. Cool. Where will we live and be happy, happy, happy florebblaaaaaah?”

“Seattle, of course. Where else?”

I sigh wistfully. “That would be amazing. I wish we both lived in Seattle so bad.”

“‘Twould be amazing,” Josh says. “Hey, did I mention you’re sweet? Because you are.”

“Yep. That’s what you said.”

“And you’re smart, too.”

“Yep. That’s me. Sweet and smart.” I snort. “That’s what everyone always says about me.”

“You don’t think you’re sweet and smart?”

I pause. “I think I’m sweet with the people I care about, but you’re not gonna hear anyone say, ‘Oh, that Kat—she never says an unkind word about anyone.’”

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