Chapter 8: His Side of the Bed

He took my pants off slowly, and he did not do what I had told him to.

He was careful anyway.

He kissed the inside of my knee, then the inside of my thigh, and watched my face while he did it.

"Cal," I said, and my voice broke on his name.

"I know."

"You're taking too long."

"Seven years," he said against my skin. "I'm taking what I want."

He slid my underwear down and tossed it somewhere in the dark.

Then he put his mouth on me.

I made a sound I hadn't made in a long time and got both hands in his hair.

His tongue was slow and flat, then quick, then slow again, and he held my hips down on the mattress when I tried to move.

"Don't," he said, rough. "Let me."

"I can't, I'm going to..."

"Good."

He sucked on my clit and slid two fingers inside me, curling them, and everything in my body pulled tight at once.

I came with his name in my mouth and my heels digging into the mattress.

The rain on the roof covered most of the noise I made, and I didn't care about the rest.

He didn't stop until I shoved at his shoulder, shaking, too sensitive to take any more.

He came up my body, wiping his mouth with the back of his bandaged hand, and grinned at me with the flashlight in his eyes.

"Rule one," he said. "Still arguing."

"Take your jeans off."

"Yes, ma'am."

He stood up to do it, and I watched in the yellow light.

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