When she reached for him, he moved closer, their fingers touching, the bars between them. Now that he knew what was at stake--what she needed versus what she thought she wanted--he was more comfortable, confident in his ability to provide for her needs in ways that Scott never could.
"You need this," he murmured. "Need to surrender. To know it's okay to not think about anything except how much you need to be fucked, to be full."
With his other hand, he unbuttoned his jeans, drew the zipper down, then scooted closer, his knees pressing against the bars.