Darragh’s right hand drops from his still swollen, half-erect cock, and for a second, his dull brown eyes look—tired. Lost. He frowns, and as if he can’t help himself, he reaches out with a trembling hand and smooths my hair. With exquisite care, he winds one of my curls around his finger. His touch tugs ever so slightly at my scalp, so I turn my head to ease the pressure, and the move bares my neck.
