“Is that what you’re so desperate to confess? That it felt so good to have me watch you finger-fuck yourself last night?” I tighten my grip, stifling a moan when her breath skitters over my hand, hot and hard. “Or that you’re wet at the thought of it happening again?” Silence. It fills the space between us, suffocating me with sickly sweet tension. “Both,” she finally whispers.
