My hips stilled, and he drew his fingers away. My bones had gone soft. I shifted, pressing my mouth to his neck, breathing him in.
It was all so backward, my being with someone who could take or leave his own pleasure. That had been me, after all, in all my s****l encounters, too bashful to make demands and too embarrassed to even come for real in front of someone. Not that Isaac was bashful. And not that he backseated his pleasure to be deferring. Still, I’d never been the greedy partner before, the spoiled one. It felt nice.
He toyed with my hair, pushing it back from my neck, and the attic’s cool air caressed my flushed skin. Again, the words begged to be said. No. I’d said them already. Saying them again wouldn’t change the fact that I didn’t get to hear them in return. But it felt a
