“I can make my sorry up to you later,” he whispers directly in my ear, fingers brushing up the inside of my thigh, daring to go further. I swallow hard when he stands even closer to me, fingers working beneath the tethered ends of my shorts. “Or now,” he murmurs. I clutch the counter's edge until my knuckles turn white and nod my head in agreement. I’m taking back what I want, and what I want is his fingers inside me. “I’d much rather you boss me around and tell me you want to ride my face, but this will do for now, yeah?”
