His mouth tightens. “That doesn’t answer the question.”
I lean back on my hands casually, completely unapologetic about my nudity.
“If I recall correctly,” I say, “there were moments when I begged you to fuck me. So yes. I did want it.”
His ears turn slightly pink.
Interesting.
He looks away briefly.
Then back.
“I need to know you weren’t—”
“You’re a sex god,” I interrupt calmly.
He freezes.
“What?”
I shrug.
“I wanted it,” I say lightly. “You’re a sex god. Five out of five stars. Would absolutely recommend. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
He stares at me like I just spoke an alien language.
I grin.
His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
Nothing comes out.
I gesture toward him lazily.
“You literally picked me up and carried me across the room,” I say, smiling faintly. “That was hot as hell.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes unfocusing slightly as more memories seem to surface.
“You called me Hercules,” he says quietly.
His ears turn even redder.
“I did. And you asked me if I understood instructions.”
His entire face flushes now.
“I did,” I add thoughtfully. “Very well.”
He drags both hands over his face. “Oh my God.”
I beam at him. “It was the best orgasm of my life.”
He groans and I laugh.
Then immediately regret it because my head throbs violently.
I clutch my forehead. “Ow.”
