“But I crave the sound of my name on his tongue. I want him to shout it from a rooftop, whisper it in my ear, trace it on my skin. I want my name to form a familiar shape in his mouth, tasting of my lips. I want him to own my name and still beg when he says it. Or maybe I just want him.”

“But I crave the sound of my name on his tongue. I want him to shout it from a rooftop, whisper it in my ear, trace it on my skin. I want my name to form a familiar shape in his mouth, tasting of my lips. I want him to own my name and still beg when he says it. Or maybe I just want him.”

— Lauren Roberts