You? [It comes out breathy, almost a squeak of what her voice is usually like; she struck a nerve, pulled at a heartstring, she can tell from the kiss he just gave her. And god, she wants another one, and another one after.
More certain, she adds,] You. [And runs her fingers through his hair again, but doesn't pull him up yet, doesn't hold him down either.
Her hands move up to his wrists, where he's holding himself up on top of her, and she sweeps her thumbs against the inside of each wrist, where the skin is sensitive.] Touch me.
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More certain, she adds,] You. [And runs her fingers through his hair again, but doesn't pull him up yet, doesn't hold him down either.
Her hands move up to his wrists, where he's holding himself up on top of her, and she sweeps her thumbs against the inside of each wrist, where the skin is sensitive.] Touch me.