Ray forced his smile to stay plastered on his face. "Tastes so fuckin' good, Sonya… deadass," he said, lifting the spoon again. His right hand was shaking a little, but he hid it by gripping the spoon tighter.
In his head, he wanted to puke his fucking guts out. The taste was faint but sharp — fishy, salty, and kinda sweet — mixed in with the fried rice and chicken Sonya cooked. Ray knew exactly what that shit was.
Thanks to his global alter ability back then, he knew Sonya's secret. That crazy bitch's fetish: rubbing little objects all over the thick folds of her pussy and getting a little horny whenever someone uses them.
And now that spoon was in his mouth.
Sonya scooted closer. Her thick thighs in those tight black yoga pants pressed right up against Ray's thigh. She rested her chin on her right hand, eyes sparkling with happiness like a proud mom watching her kid scarf down food.
