“Don’t you want to keep going?” “Of course I do,” he growls. “I feel like my cock is going to rip through my pants. But I’m not doing anything else until you’re sober.” “I’m totally lucid!” I tell him. “That’s not the same thing as sober.” I try to kiss him again, but he stops me. “Camille,” he says. “I want you. But not . . . not like I usually do. Not to just fuck and get off.”
Clapping my hands kicking my feet. Didn’t peg him for a gentleman
