“So super sure,” I tell him, the feel of his fingertip unerringly finding its target infinitely more arousing than the impersonal plastic of the nozzle I shoved up my ass earlier. “I want—” I huff out a breath as Joey presses against me, just a little. “I want you to do what you promised. I want you to wreck me, Joey. To show me what it can feel like. I’m ready.”
