The moment the words left his mouth, Astrid wanted to protest.
She wanted to explain that this wouldn't work, that he didn't understand the real problem.
Because the issue wasn't that she was hesitant or reluctant.
God, no. If anything, she wanted nothing more than to become exactly what he described—that frantic, desperate animal.
She wanted to lose herself completely, to become nothing but a vessel for her need for him.
But her body got in the way.
It always had.
After all, the truth was simple and frustrating: her mouth was too small.
That was the mechanical reality of it.
And her gag reflex? It worked a little too well.
The slightest brush against the back of her throat and she'd be coughing, sputtering, forced to pull back whether she wanted to or not.
It was humiliating, really, to want something so badly and have your own fucking throat betray you.
But there was something else too.
Ever since she was young, Astrid had been a tidy, polite eater.
