“You would be an awful lay if you were a guy,” he explains the source of his humor. “Huh.” He kisses me and clarifies, “You wouldn’t be able to last that long.” True. “How am I as a girl…?” I grip his biceps, distracted as his thrusts turn slow and deep. Oh God. My back arches, and my lips part in need. His amber eyes graze me as though I’m the most beautiful broken thing he’s ever been a part of. “You’re perfect.”
