Tell Me

Brooklyn hangs up the phone after blurting out her secret, then shows up at Small Hands' door still breathing hard from the walk over. She lets her dress fall around her ankles. He stays in the chair, watching. When she drops to her knees the moment turns tight, like the room itself is holding its breath. She takes him in her mouth slowly, eyes never leaving his, and the quiet in the room gets louder with every wet pull. The dark hair between her legs shows when she shifts to change the angle, and he reaches down to grip it, pulling her deeper until her throat tightens around him. She stays there, nose pressed to skin, saliva running down his shaft. When he stands, she turns without a word, palms on the table, hips tilted back. He pushes into her from behind in one steady thrust. Brooklyn keeps her face turned so he can see the way her mouth stays open, like the word she already said over the phone is still caught there.