“What do you want to do now?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, his eyes on me like he already knows the answer. I groan inwards annoyed. He knows what I want to do and he wants it too. But he wants to make me say it. I hate him!
I freeze for a moment, caught off guard. What do I want? The answer sits on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say it. I can’t tell him that I want to kiss him. That I want to be close to him, want him to fuck me. It’s too bold, too forward,