I grip her thighs and lift her up onto the pool table. Her knees part for me. “Let me make you feel better.” She’s breathing hard, my mouth still on her neck. Her words close like a fist around me. As if there’s a single moment where being around her doesn’t make me feel better. “Tell me what to do.” I lift my head, and I’m going to hell, but when she asks me so prettily… “You know what would make me feel better, sweetheart?” “What?” “You, naked on this table,” I say, “and my head between your legs. Can you be good and let me make you come?”
