Noah stared down at me, flushed and incredulous.
“You stopped.”
“You said you wanted more.”
“I did.”
“What do you want now?”
He swallowed.
“Touch me from behind.”
“Only outside?”
“Yes.”
I reached for the lubricant in the bedside drawer.
Noah turned carefully onto his left side. I placed a pillow beneath his upper leg, keeping the right hip supported and preventing it from rotating too far.
Then I fitted myself behind him.
I kissed the back of his shoulder.
His breathing had become shallow again.
“Color?”
“Green.”
I warmed the lubricant between my fingers and touched him lightly.
His entire body tensed.
I stopped at once.
“Amber?”
“Wait.”
I left my hand exactly where it was without pressure.
Noah took one breath.
Then another.
Three.
Four.
The rigid line of his shoulders gradually softened.
“Again,” he said.
I resumed with less pressure, touching him in slow circles.
His hips shifted toward my hand.
