The sound he makes goes right to her liquid core, and Joyce finds herself desperately wanting to hear him make it again, to make him make it again. He nudges her back against the bed and Joyce sits easily, scooting back onto the mattress so that she can lean back on her elbows and spread her legs. Her face flushes, slightly, but she doesn't look away. She doesn't want anyhting but this.

"You're biased," she says.