I throw my head back, closing my eyes. It’s not that Taylor didn’t know where to touch me. I’ve just always felt too removed from the moment to fully enjoy it. Like I was putting on a sexy act. This? I feel this. Everywhere. I’m delirious, hot and wet underneath him. Mal takes my left nipple into his mouth and sucks. Stars explode behind my eyelids like fireworks. Everything tightens with delight. I like that he thinks about me first. I like that he is still fully clothed. I like that he knows exactly what he’s doing—even if that means he’s practiced on other girls. On many girls, no doubt.

“God,” I moan.

“Partial about him, remember?” Mal jokes, kissing his way up from my breasts to my shoulders and neck, biting and teasing me as I begin to buck my hips forward and ride his hand that’s shoved inside my pants. He rubs my clit back and forth faster, and I prepare to explode. He dips two fingers into me and lets out a groan. Then, when my climax hits me from my toes to the top of my head, he reaches into my bag with one hand, takes the camera out, and snaps a picture of my face as I come.

He captures me in such a vulnerable moment, I want to scream at him, but when he dumps the camera on the quilt next to us and looks down, I let it go. He doesn’t look smug or happy or offhanded about it. He looks…tortured.

“Rory.”

“Hmm?”

“I made you come.”

I blink, looking down at my wrinkled corduroys pushed halfway down my thighs.

“And you’re going to make me come now,” he says. “Hopefully after I put my dick inside you. Feck, I can’t stop staring at you. You’re beautiful.”

He unbuckles his belt, lowers his pants, flips his wallet open, and begins sheathing himself with a condom. I kick my corduroys down, refusing to dwell on the fact that he has condoms ready at any given moment.

I don’t get a good look at his penis, purposefully avoiding eye-to-dick contact. Penises freak me out. Especially uncircumcised ones. They look like sweater sleeves curled inwards after a wild ride in the washing machine.

When he’s all wrapped up, he looks down at me, his arms braced on either side of my head.

I blush, covering my face. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“With a grin that says you pissed in the Jacuzzi everyone’s chilling in and got away with it. You gave me an orgasm; you didn’t discover the cure for cancer.”

“Night’s still young,” he jokes, dropping a kiss at the crown of my head. “Ready?” he asks, angling himself between my legs.

God, yes. I nod.