"Jerry," Grace says, encouragement and endearment all in one breath, her head tipped back against the wall to give him a better angle to work with, to let her feel his mouth on her skin, one more point of connection in a puzzle she's lost track of. It isn't an easy position to maintain, least of all when she has so little control over it, but she doesn't care. She likes being entirely in his hands, like the angle and how deep he gets and the way he wants her too much to wait for it. She's always wanted something like this, she thinks, since before she was old enough to want it in this way, longed to be the center of someone's world, to know that she's the only thing that matters. He's all there is for her, anyway, and she doesn't consider he might not feel the same way; it's too evident to her that he does. "Oh, God, yes, yes."