Shirley
Keith wants me.
I heard it from his very lips, felt it rumble through every inch of me being. It’s not a conclusion I made based on a look he gave or from reading between his words. He actually said it.
And following his words, his teeth scrape against my neck, gently biting me. It makes me completely lose all sense, my mouth acting before my brain as I jerk and give a muffle cry.
“Yes,” the word falls out of my mouth, my approval feeling as though it could shake the earth beneath my feet. But it also has Keith growing more wild.
“Do you want me to f**k you here? Or the bed?” Keith asks next, sending sparks into my stomach.
Yes. Neither. Both. All answers fly into my head, but only one leaves my mouth.
“Bed.”
Keith peels his body from mine, and
