“Like when I fucked myself on my own fingers. Or used the dildos I bought. Like then.” Beck’s fingers loosened, and then he trailed them down until they were kneading the flesh of my ass, pulling my cheek aside like he was imagining me doing what I’d just said. “You did that?” “Yes,” I groaned. “So can you please fuck me? Please. I need you, Beck.” “What did you think about when you fucked yourself?” His voice was right next to my ear again, the husky warmth of it sending anticipatory shivers down my spine. “You,” I rasped. “It was always you.” Always.
