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“Two hours is plenty,” I said, and meant it.
“Then let’s not waste them.” She kissed me and reached into her bag for a condom.
She rolled it onto me and lay back against the pillows, pulling me down with her, guiding me in with her hand. She was hot and tight and she wrapped her legs round my waist and held me there, deep, kissing me like we had all the time in the world, even though we didn’t.
It was wonderful. Slow at first, then harder when she whispered harder, her nails in my back. She came with her head thrown back and a gasp that turned into a laugh. I held on, somehow. I didn’t want it to be over.
We lay tangled for a while. She traced lazy patterns on my chest.
“We’ve got about twenty minutes,” she said. “You were very gentlemanly. Which means you haven’t finished, which means you’re about to ask me for something.” She smiled. “Go on. Men always do.”
I had two thoughts and both of them were embarrassing. One was simply that I wanted her again, properly, start to finish. The other was something I’d never done with anyone and had always been too shy to ask about. The website, in its careful wine-list way, said she might.
“You can ask,” she said. “I can say no. That’s how this works.”