I don’t just want his body. I want him. I want the sound of his voice. The smell of his neck. I want the way he looked at me in the restaurant and in the car. I want the way he clenches his jaw when he’s pissed at me, and I want the way he smiles at me when he doesn’t know I’m watching him. I want all that, but in the meantime, I’ll take the deep strokes he’s giving me and the soft, tacky slap of two bodies slamming together.
