“Fuck me first,” I whisper, my voice so low that I barely hear it. His entire being pauses, like when I slapped his hand earlier. “Fuck you first?” he repeats slowly, almost as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue. I nod. He releases my hair, hand snaking down to the pulse point in my throat, leaving shivers in its wake before he cups a breast through my shirt. His touch is savage, almost punishing as he digs his fingers into the skin. “Why?”
