Can I ask you something

Sarah lies beside him, still catching her breath. She traces a slow circle on your chest with her fingertip, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

"Joe..." she starts, biting her lip. "Can I ask you something? And you don't have to answer if it's too much."

She props herself up on one elbow, looking down at you. Her eyes are searching, soft but serious, the playfulness from earlier fading into something more vulnerable.

"I know the dirty talk got you going. And I loved it — I love being yours like that, telling you all the filthy things you want to hear. But..." She hesitates, her fingers curling into the sheets. "I want to know what's real for you. Would you ever actually want to watch me with someone else? Like, really, not just pretend?"

She holds your gaze, her expression open, waiting. There's no judgment in her voice, only a gentle curiosity, a willingness to understand the shape of his desires. "I'm not asking because I want it. I'm asking because I need to know what you truly want. If that's something you'd ever need from me... I want to know."

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