Copyright © 2009 Emily Ryan-Davis
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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“You didn’t have any control.” I closed my eyes, surprised to feel myself arching into his frame, rubbing my nipples against his pecs. His breath warmed my cheek, setting off a craving for tenderness that my logical brain didn’t want. No gentle kisses. No sweet breaths.
“What are you afraid of?”
My face screwed up in a scowl. “That you’ll talk me to sleep before it’s my turn to come.”
He moved inside me, a lazy stroke that stopped my breath. My womb clenched. His big hands glided down my arms and drew my hands over my head. “I like talking. And since I’m the one in complete control, I say we talk.”