“No, but you know what I do know, Eliza?” he grits out, leaning in closer again. “I know that when you’re riding him, you’re thinking about me. Me inside you, me tasting you, me whispering in your ear while you come on my cock.” He takes in my parted lips and the short way my breath catches when he pauses. “If you can live with that guilt, live with yourself—then be my guest.”
