I curl the lone finger, letting myself explore, finding the place I need until a certain spot has her breaths leaving in stuttered sighs. “Jasper, baby,” she moans. Baby. Such a common pet name. So normal. And exhaled so naturally. I want common. Normal. Natural. Baby. My body, though tight and hard and aching for release, feels like it’s floating in a dream. In the feel of her chest rising and falling beside my ear; in the fresh, clean scent of her perfume; in the wet sounds of her gripping my knuckle as my finger pulses in and out.
