He tells her to spread her legs. She frowns and he tilts his head, disapproving. She blows a deep sigh and hesitates.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“It’s one of those things you need to get over. You shouldn’t be embarrassed around me.”

“I’m already naked, and you’re … well … not. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

He’s standing at the foot of the bed while she sits upright, ass snugged against the pillows, hugging her tightly pressed knees.

“Nothing is ever enough. Do it.”

She leans backward, turning her head toward the window where a fractured shaft of moonlight pours through the glass and over her skin. It makes her shimmer like his best memories evaporating in ether. She heaves another sigh and places her hands on top of her knees as if she needs to push them apart, push them in opposite directions until each one flattens against the mattress, her thighs open wide as a pair of wings and the obscene flower of her bald slit is finally there between them.

He looks at it like he's never seen it before and it makes her want to close her legs and hide but she doesn't dare. Not now. It's too late. It's too much. The mere fact of what she's doing makes her shudder. She wants to close her eyes but doesn't want to stop looking at his face. His eyes flick up momentarily and catch hers. She feels herself blush, the heat rushing to her face unstoppably and for a moment she thinks she might cry.

"Baby," His voice drags through her. It always catches her off guard, the way he speaks to her. It's warmer than sunlight and yet his undertone just about drives her insane. She lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"So," she says, like it's no big deal but it is a big deal because he's gone back to staring at her pussy again and his hand is at the front of his pants, touching his cock through them.

"So," he says, like there's a conversation to have. His hand moves silently, occasionally squeezing and she can't stop looking. She wonders if he'll take it out or if he'll make her do it for him.

"What?" she says and she's getting used to sitting there with her legs open for him because her tone is teasing, she's almost sure he's too distracted to even hear her but then,

"Touch it," he says. He doesn't look at her face.

"But..."

"Touch. It."

A slender hand moves along her thigh until she’s touching her slit. Long fingers rake the lips. She looks at the ceiling and does it again. Soon she’s massaging her petals over and over until she bites her bottom lip and more sighs escape her constricted throat. He watches, feigning patience, his cock aching for freedom, breath pulling into his frame around shivers he won’t let her see.

Before long there’s a crescent of oozing moisture around the circling arc of her fingers, telltale slicking noises trickle through the silence. By the time she’s concentrating all the pressure against her clit, her hips begin to rock and grind against the awkwardness of her position.

He unzips his pants and slips his hand inside, gripping his cock through his briefs but not pulling it free despite the shift of her eyes to the motion of his hand under his pants.

“Push a finger inside,” he says.

“Oh god, I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Show me what you become.”

After a moment she grimaces and shoves the full length of her middle finger into the wet clasp of her hole. Air pushes out of her body. Her breasts rise and fall, nipples gathered into knots.

He opens his pants and reveals his swollen cock, hand grinding along the shaft as he watches the easy glide of her finger.

She moans. It's worth it all to see him like this. It still dazes her to see him so far gone, to watch the way he touches himself. It's both terrifying and exhilarating to know it's because of her. His cock looks painfully hard and he grips it tight enough to make her ache. Her pumping finger suddenly feels insubstantial even as the thought of his swollen cock pushing up inside her makes her mind spin.

"I need," she begins but the sentence drops unfinished, seemingly impossible to say out loud.

"You need what?" he asks.

Your cock, she thinks. I need it inside me. I need you to come over here and fuck me like I'm nothing to you.

"You need what?" he asks again, and his voice is somehow more coaxing and yet more impatient.

She can't say any of it. She stares helplessly at him and simply says, "You."

“So you say,” he grunts. But instead of tearing off his clothes and climbing onto the bed between her splayed open thighs, he walks around the side and roughly grips her by a hank of long hair. She utters a strangled shriek that comes out more like a whimper as she follows the pull of his hand, driving her off the bed to her feet. He leads her into the bathroom and switches on the harsh, unforgiving light. Then he tells her to grab the edge of the sink.

Behind her, he’s opening his pants and shoving them low, pulling her hips back far enough to bring her pussy into range. He mashes the head of his cock between her sodden lips and shoves hard, grinding her toward the mirror. But then he grabs her by the hair again while his cock begins to drive and retreat through her hole. He pulls her head back and they fuck and gasp. Her head is yanked back until their faces are pushed together.

“Look at her,” he snarls. “Look. I need something, too. And she’s dirty and beautiful and nothing and everything. Look. Just look. Fuck. Just. Look.”