“I was thinking about . . .” I clear my throat, diving through the awkward lilt in my voice. I can’t say I’m used to dirty talk during sex, or after, but I sure can try. “I was thinking about how good you felt clenching around my fingers. How sweet you tasted. I was thinking about . . . how fucking hard you make me.” Her fingers slip further down my stomach, trailing a pattern underneath the waistband of my sweats. “And now?” “I’m thinking that I’m still hard. That I’ll probably be hard for days, just replaying the sounds you make when you come.”
