"For two years."
She's quiet for a moment. Processing.
Then she says something that nearly stops my heart.
"I want you to do it again." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "In front of me."
I stare at her.
"No."
"No?"
"I'm not going to jerk off while you're sitting right here." I shake my head. "I need to be inside you."
Marina's eyes widen.
"I don't have condoms."
"We don't need them."
"Dante—"
"I'm clean. I get tested regularly. And I haven't been with anyone in..." I pause. Think about it. "Over a year."
She bites her lip.
"That's not the only concern."
"I'll pull out."
"That's not—" She shakes her head. "No. We need protection."
I watch her.
She wants this. I can see it in her eyes. In the way her chest rises and falls with each rapid breath. In the flush spreading down her neck.
But she's scared.
Not of me.
Of losing control.
I smile.
"Okay."
Marina blinks. "Okay?"
"We'll do it your way." I lean back against the couch cushions. "I'm curious to see how long you can resist."
Her eyes narrow.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Instead of answering, I stand up.
The movement pulls at my wound. Pain flares through my side. I ignore it.
