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“Where are we going? Am I about to get the promised twin sandwich? Though… we can’t. Not while Koda’s hurt.” I heard a low chuckle in the back of my head that didn’t come from Thorn. “Are Alaric and Lars going to sub in? But… then it wouldn’t be a sandwich, unless it was a club sandwich—”
“Was she cruising for a bruising? Because I’ve got crystals on my rings.” She flashed her big silver gemstone rings. “And I’ve got a mind to rearrange her chakras.”
In my relationship with Paul, I’d been in the position of eroticising the giving of pleasure rather than the taking of it. To do it, I’d performed some kind of mental gymnastics early in my marriage that made it A-OK for me to get Paul panting, even if he rolled over in bed and fell asleep right after he got what he wanted, not feeling like he needed to return the favour. No, love isn’t transactional; it isn’t tit-for-tat. But damn me if it doesn’t wither and die when only one person is doing all the giving.
