Say It

She half sat, half lay on him, her back pressed to his stomach, his fingers playing her, him moving

inside her. She moaned, close to ecstasy.

He stopped moving, and commanded, "Say it."

"No!" She said stubbornly. She tried wriggling on him, but his arm around her held her tight.

"Say it." He moved his hips in one slow circle. If he would just stop this game! He slid one finger

down, then up her center. She shivered and tightened around him, it was too much.

"Please," she pleaded.

"I can wait all night, Lizzie."

"Jack," she breathed, "I love you."

His body and fingers resumed their motions, faster, fervently, sending her over the edge in a

fury of cries and moans.

When their breathing slowed to a normal rhythm, she slid off to lay at his side. He curled

his arm around her and said, "Now don't you feel better, love?"

She knew he wasn't referring to the physical.

"I should have taken care of myself," she retorted, pressing herself closer and burying her face in

his chest.

He smiled into her hair. "Me too, darling," he whispered, and she just knew he wasn't talking about

her latter statement.