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“Maybe you do,” you said darkly.
“What was it you once told me? Something about sex being a great stress reliever?”
“Lovemaking,” you corrected.
“I think you’d rather fuck me, though, huh?” I drew a hand along your collarbone and when I reached the center of your sternum, gave a little push. You didn’t budge. You were the rock, and I was the wave. I couldn’t move you, only wear you down.
“Do you know what you’re asking for right now, Vincent?” you asked, your whole body humming with tension.
“I’m not asking.”
You crossed the room and threw the deadbolt on the door. A shiver of arousal raced through me. Or maybe it was fear.
