Lyla
I tried not to be disappointed when I headed up the stairs to my room, leaving Rashid behind to do whatever his mother called about while we were… in the middle of trying to have s*x.
My face flushed so hard.
In the middle of a damn dressing room. Who was I?
Desperate, that's what. Horny and pent up from being teased into s****l oblivion.
How did normal people do this? What was it called? Edging?
It felt like actual torture.
Shutting my door behind myself, I held up my bag of new clothes. The Prada logo stamped proudly on the side of it. I can't believe I owned something from a fashion designer. I'd never had anything this nice in my life.
Sure, I frequented thrift shops and often found semi-designer clothes and handbags I bought for fun while I was still a teenager.
But n
