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... ighs. His hips pressed against the backs of her thighs in the standing position, his cock — still present, still the committed, upright fact of it — pressed against the back of her.
"’No,’" she said. The word of someone who meant it. "’No. Not here. He’s right here. I can’t— in front of—’"
"’You want to leave,’" he said.
The quiet, level quality of it.
"’Yes—’"
"’Clean me up first.’"
She processed this.
"’...what?’"
"’Either,’" he s ...
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