* * *
WHEN SHE CAME, a new surge of wetness on his tongue, he almost lost it too, kneeling there. There’d been no contact on his cock beyond the tight constraint of jeans. Even with no hands, no mouth, no pussy, the overwhelming pleasure and—yes—joy of making her fly apart was almost enough. It was as if he’d somehow lost track of whose body was whose and everything was interchangeable. When her body tensed with sensation and pleasure, his did too.
He just barely managed not to come, and he was glad, because he’d wanted that to be all for her. And now that she was settled limp in his lap, he wanted to give it to her again, right now.
But first, he had an important question for her.
“What was it you were saying before, Hav? You should have...what?”
She lifted her head as if it took a great deal of effort to do so. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. You were going to say something. I want to know what.”
She shifted as if she meant to get up, and he pulled her tight against him to keep her from escaping. He knew she wanted to flee. Hell, he even understood her reasons. What they’d just done was idiocy. But he’d given up resisting and he would make her give up, too, if it killed him.
“I just— I wasn’t ready.”
He looked at her in astonishment.
“No, not like that,” she said, flushing. “I mean, I usually...”
She clamped her mouth shut, her face flaming red.
“You’re just going to have to say it,” he said, “because I have no prayer of getting this one.”
“I usually wax. Down there.” She said it quickly, without looking at him, obviously dying of embarrassment. “I don’t actually usually do that at all. I mean, let anyone do that. But if I do, it’s only if I’m—smooth.”
He was a little stunned. He’d guessed it was hard for her to let go, but he hadn’t quite imagined this. “So you’ve never let anyone go down on you before when you’ve had...hair?”
“Nope.”
“But other stuff is okay. Sex.”
She shook her head, the blush deepening.
“Wait a second.”
“I like to be neat,” she said.
“I get neat, but—how do you even accomplish that?”
“If I have a date, and it’s like the third or fourth, you know, a crucial date, I just make sure beforehand...”
“And if for some reason you find yourself in a situation where you haven’t had a chance to plan ahead?”
“That never happens,” she said.
“That never happens,” he repeated.
“I wouldn’t ever let it happen. I’d make some excuse, or—I don’t know.”
He was genuinely staggered, and then the implication of her words fully dawned. “But you did. Twice. With me.”