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I wasn’t sure how I felt about this.
Oh, wait, I did know.
“I don’t think I like you laughing at me.”
Suddenly I was rolled onto my back and Easton was mostly on top of me.
“I’m not laughing at you.”
All humor was gone. He sounded as serious as a heart attack.
“I would never laugh at you, not for any reason, but especially when we’re in this bed. I told you, you’re safe with me and I fucking mean that.”
I knew he meant that. He’d spent three days tirelessly—one could even say, diligently—proving I was safe with him.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“I think it’s cute as hell, you have no clue I can feel it when you orgasm.”
“How would I know that?”
“You can’t feel it when you play with yourself?”
Heat hit my cheeks, spread to my chest, then proceeded to singe my insides.
Thank God it was dark in the room.
“Baby?” he prompted.
“I’ve…never…I don’t…I mean I’ve tried but I can’t. So I don’t.”
“You don’t what?”
Gawd. Embarrassing.
“Can we please not talk about this or say anything and just go to sleep?”
“Why don’t you want to talk about this?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“I’ve been inside you,” he murmured softly. “I’ve had my tongue in your pussy. I’ve kissed and licked almost every inch of you.”
This was all true. But I didn’t see what that had to do with anything.
“So? Some stuff is private.”
“Not between us.”
He dipped his face and somehow, like the superhero I was starting to believe he was, his lips hit mine on the first try.
“You’re lying there with my mark on your ass, my come up your cunt, and I got more nail marks on my back then I can count. Yesterday I had you on your knees in the shower, my dick in your mouth, while you let me fuck your face and you swallowed me. Tell me, baby, with all of that, what’s private when it comes to us?”
Us.
“You’re crass, Easton Spears.”
“And you’re deflecting, Nebraska Michaels.”
