“Can you do that thing I like?” She could barely look at him, feeling embarrassed. 

“What thing? I’ll give you anything you want, you just have to ask for it.” His voice was firm, but reassuring. 

“Ah, come on. You know, the thing that involves reading and um, and how I drift off to sleep and I wake up the next morning feeling incredible.” Her eyes shifted up and down and around the room, avoiding the look in his eyes. She knew that he knew. He knew what she was asking. 

“What do you want me to read to you?” 

“Anything, just read.” 

He stared at her for a moment, exhaled, and then grabbed the nearest book. 

“Don’t do it if you don’t feel like doing it. It’s not worth it if you’re not into it.”

“I’m into it. I just don’t understand why you still don’t feel comfortable explicitly saying what you want.” He began to turn the pages. 

“It’s not a reflection of me feeling comfortable with you. It’s just my own thing. Forget I asked.” She snatched the book from his hands and tossed it on their nightstand. She rolled over to the right side of their bed and propped her pillows, preparing for an unsatisfying sleep. 

He stared at her and debated whether he should continue on. He decided he should. 

He rolled her over and gently grabbed her chin, “Climb on top of me.”

As if she were hypnotized, she did just that. His back was against the tufted headboard. She climbed on top of him, his face leaned on her chest. He kissed her lips, lightly licking her bottom lip before he grabbed the book. 

She readied herself for the position. His fingers sinked into her yellow-laced panties, finding the “passage to pleasure.” 

He found a page in some random book of hers. “Not knowing whether to disappear, she wanted freedom most of all. She had to figure out if freedom was worth the risk...” The intonation is his voice matched the pitch in her voice as she moaned. His two fingers creating a rhythm of movement. His thumb carefully caressed her nub as he read over the words. He had no idea what the fuck he was reading or the slightest clue to what the book was about. 

She felt as if she were floating in space--darkness, blackness, emptiness, and pure bliss. 

She began to ride his two fingers. She loved his fingers. It was on her “list” of dating wants and requirements. His hands were big and she felt safe when his hands stroked her back during times of fear or stress. His hands were comforting as he washed her back in their shower during their intimate moments. Her head rested on his shoulder, her teeth occasionally biting him. She adored the sound of his voice. She liked how his voice had the ability to instill passion, fear, and love into her soul. 

He chucked the book to the floor and grabbed her face. The intensity she felt when he stared into her eyes encouraged her orgasm. 

Fuck his fingers. She wanted him. She released him from his trousers. She roughly slammed herself onto him. She wanted him like the random girl in the book wanted her freedom. Sex, making love, or fucking him was her freedom.