Page 155 of Between Despair and Hope

A red flush creeped up her cheeks, and I tugged her close and kissed her neck.

“A few dozen at least,” she replied.

“That’s it?”

“I didn’t keep track.”

“Well, I didn’t keep track of how many times I fisted my cock to thoughts of you, but it was certainly more than a few dozen. Gods.”

“Do you want me to say hundreds? Would that make you feel better?”

“Only if it were true.”

She sighed before tipping her head up toward the ceiling and scrunching her nose.

“What’s that face about?” I asked.

“You’re making me do the calculations.”

I barked a laugh. “I’m just being facetious, Em. Don’t worry about me. I know I made this sweet cunt wet just from a memory of me. You’re probably wet right now.”

Her breath stuttered, but she ignored me. “Close to four hundred times, I’d guess. That accounts for twice a month.”

I dipped my head and kissed her shoulder, tugging the fabric of her shirt out of my way. I was gentle on the ink, even though I wanted to trace every path carved across her ivory skin.

“Now do the calculation for twice a day.”

“I did not!”

“I’m not talking about you.” I grinned, and she jumped to her feet.

“You did not.”

I couldn’t help my joy around this woman, now she’d forced me to look it in the eye and take it. “Not that often, but close. Take your clothes off. This bed should know what I’m truly capable of.” She shook her head, smiling and rolling her eyes. “I can help you if you’ve forgotten how to work buttons,” I offered.

“I suppose I can change into something more comfortable,” she said, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“I’ve heard nudity is quite comfortable. As is being bent over on the bed with your thighs spread.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Intractable, truly,” I agreed.

A sly smile crossed her features as she unbuttoned her blouse. “Fine, I’ll undress, but you’re only allowed to make love to me in whatever I put on.”

“It doesn’t matter what you wear, I’ll take it off anyway.”

“No, that’s part of the deal. You can’t take it off.”

“Then how am I—” I argued, but she cut me off.

“I’ll make sure you have access.”

“Fine.”

“Close your eyes.”

I obeyed, laughing at her for what she was doing to me. As incorrigible as I might have been, she was my match in every way. No one could counter me like her. No one could put me in my place like her. I heard quick footsteps and the squeak of wood against wood as she opened a drawer. There was a flutter of fabric as she changed, and I was tempted to peek at her. Finally, she grabbed my hands in hers and told me to open my eyes.

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