He grinned wickedly. “Damn right I was, and it was so fucking worth it. Do you have any idea how hard it is not to come when someone else is doing the work for you?”
“I might have some experience with controlling how my body reacts during sex,” I said dryly as I picked up his shirt from earlier and dropped it on his chest. “Now clean yourself up.”
“Oh, am I getting the used escort treatment?” he asked and then coughed. “Uh, that was?—”
“Funny,” I told him with a smile as he wiped himself, and I carefully removed his softening dick from me.
He stared down at the shirt as he sat up. “Umm...that was great and all, but?—”
“But?” I asked calmly, feeling my heart renew its furious pumping from before, but knowing it was fear rather than pleasure.
“But I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep,” he said, so simply that I almost laughed with relief because I believed that was exactly what his problem was.
“That’s fine,” I told him, kneeling to wrap my arms around his chest and pull him close. “We can just spend time together quietly, or we can talk.”
“About what?”
“What do you want to talk about?”
The silence stretched for so long I finally peered down at him and realized he was staring off into the distance with a conflicted expression. I followed his gaze and felt something hitch in my chest when I saw he was staring at the photo we had left. Smiling, I got up and walked across the room, careful to avoid the mess. I took it in my hands, as gently as if it were a volatile explosive or perhaps the most precious, fragile thing in the world, and brought it to him.
He met my eyes guiltily as he took it, staring at the picture before setting it on the bedside shelf and looking away as if he had been caught doing something dirty.
I sat beside him, taking his hand and leaning my head on his shoulder. “Tell me about them.”
