Dex had always prided himself on being a generous lover. It was mortifying to realize that he hadn’t given Eloïse Fortrose what she wanted, that instead of giving her more orgasms, he ought to have given her more control over what they did together, more control over him.
him.He wasn’t enthused by the idea of being ridden, but he hoped he’d hidden it from her. If riding St. George was important to her, then he’d make it as good for her as he could, as good for them both—which meant entering into it with zeal.
In Dex’s opinion, enthusiasm was as essential to great s*x as laughter was. s*x was pleasure and bliss and ecstasy, but it was also sweat and mess and body parts bumping awkwardly and unexpected, comical noises. There was no shame in the awkwardness or the noises or the mess, so why
