It's a good sound. Derrica kisses him harder for it, as if to catch the taste of it from his lips before it goes. For a moment, it stays the work of her hand, laces held loosely in her hand as her knuckles stray along the flex of his stomach.

She doesn't pull back from him when she takes him in hand. Stays pressed in tight against him, kissing his mouth, crowded in close, as she touches him. It's an unhurried, easy movement. Not lacking intention, just not possessed of the kind of focused urgency that leads to a particular end.

"I want to know everything you like," comes so softly, a murmur at the corner of his mouth in harmony with the slow shift of her hand over him. "And I want you to know me too."

Here is the thing that matters: the invitation, the offering up of something she needn't share. There is a way of doing this where Derrica gives up nothing at all. Most men are satisfied with that. Maybe Loxley would have been too. But that's not what she wants this to be.