Page 11 of Hooking Up

"Fuck, Iris." He drags his fingertips over my sex. "You always get this wet?"

My response is a groan.

God, that's hot. How can five words be that hot?

He teases me with one finger.

Then two.

I clutch at the sheets to stay upright.

That feels good.

Too good.

I need him inside me. His fingers. His cock. His everything.

I need it too much. The way I used to need—

"You like it rough?" He slides one finger inside me. Then two.

Fuck.

My eyelids flutter together.

I rock my hips. Rise onto my tiptoes.

How do I like it?

I don't even know.

I always went along with whatever Ross wanted.

He pushes his fingers inside me. It's slow. Deep. Intense.

"Slow at first." I swallow hard. How does he talk about this stuff so casually?

I mean, I appreciate his excellent communication skills.

And how much his dirty talk sets me on fire.

But I can't return it. Not with that kind of confidence.

"Then harder." I rock my hips.

He murmurs a yes as he drives his fingers inside me.

It feels good. But I need more.

"Fuck me," I breathe.

"This first." He drives his fingers into me. Again. Again. Again.

It pushes me toward the edge.

Fills me with this strange mix of satisfaction and need.

It's good.