The stall was too small for three people.
On the grimy floor, Lana was struggling to free her member from her clothes, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. Flinn clung to her, panting, his gaze locked onto her with a heavy focus.
Their bodies pressed together awkwardly, breath and heat filling the space—yet Angelica felt none of it closing in on her.
She wasn't suffocating. She wasn't even bothered by them.
Her attention was fixed on the voice at her ear—hoarse, breathless, and miles away. She swallowed hard, knowing exactly what her sister wanted.
"Tell me what you're doing," Angelica whispered into the phone. "I'll call you then, by your name."
Her eyes drifted to the spill of red hair against the filthy tiles just as her sister's voice answered.
"She has your hair... your skin. Your body. But she isn't you, Ange."
A strange desire began to consume Angelica.
