Of course, it’s not like I haven’t been fucked for a while now, not like it didn’t all start months ago when I'd gotten completely and utterly fucked by Drew Avery. At the time, I couldn't have cared less about the condom breaking because just being with him seemed more important. After Drew cornered me a few nights later and dragged me back to his suite for round two, I figured I should probably start on the pill just in case. It really felt too good not to partake, and I’m an odds girl; the odds anything would come of one broken condom were pretty damn low. It just kept happening, too. Drew would flirt and smirk and press close, and I was lost, so many times over I was lost. Fortunately, the tour had been about to go on hiatus, so I just had to bide my time, and then, maybe then, I could regain my head. Sex with Drew was good, but we needed to stop, I knew that. I had let him cross the line, had begged him to cross it in the end.
