Sarah thought it would be sexy, but hadn’t known that safety pins weren’t all that sharp. He’d had to put some muscle into punching it through her skin. She took a death grip on his shoulders and squealed loud enough to scare him half to death. Afterwards, she cried a little, but not like she really meant it, more sweet than sorry. And that was the first night that he’d been absolutely certain of her orgasms. Orgasms, plural, not singular; she came and came and came, until in the end she had begged him to stop. It remained one of his most cherished memories.
“I’ll tell you a secret, Fletch,” she said. “It wasn’t all you, even then. I loved that you made me take my panties off that night and spent the whole dance telling me what you were going to do to me so that I could hardly breathe for
