With all the other men I’ve slept with, I’ve been in my head the whole time. Not necessarily in the driver’s seat, but fretting over body position and length of time I should be doing oral versus how loud my moans are and are they believable or can they tell I’m faking it. It’s a deep, insecure part of me that I don’t even like to admit to myself. But magically, I’m not pretending anything with Wyatt Fletcher.
