It’s intoxicating, the feeling of being on top of him and in total control. We’re only kissing, but it feels like more than any of my late-night hookups before. Minutes, hours, days—there’s no real concept of time while I’m here, across his thighs. The only thing keeping me sane is the space I keep between us, my knees planted on either side of him, hovering from the prominent distraction below me. I won’t even allow myself to look.
