Never Sweeter(44)

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry I don’t…I hope…it’s just that”

“Honey, you don’t need an explanation.”

His tone was like sinking into a warm bathand the thumb she could feel stroking over her forearm only pulled her deeper down. He just did it so idly. So like he wasn’t touching her at all.

Before she knew it she was up to her ears in liquid heat.

“Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like I do.”

“I’m sure. I mean, the movie was pretty intense.”

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

“No, god no,” she said, too fast and too fierce.

Though it was only afterward that she realized how it sounded:

Not like someone trying to say she didn’t want to masturbate.

Like someone saying that she wanted him to stay.

And he took it that way, too.

“Or, you know. I could just…do it for you,” he said.

Then she just had to do her best not to go out of her mind.

She stopped herself from jumping up. Kept her hands from flailing.

Didn’t look at him, in case looking made her do something crazy.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

Again, she had the urge to get up. Maybe she even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking her arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of her arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of her throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing her there. It felt like kissing.

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

All of this was without the scariness of the real thing.

It was just a game, that was alland one that she could win if she really put her mind to it. He thought he could get her so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. She was a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. She was impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where she almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of her swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through her was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to her clit, or eased a finger into her slick little hole. In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d touched her at all.

Yet she still had to clench her jaw.

She had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened beforethe film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching her, with his skill. He wasn’t skillful at all. He was terrible. Awful.

The worst lover she had ever had.

She had no idea why her thighs were trembling. Or what made her moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling her just what he found there.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Letty, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all she could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for the feel of him doing it.

He used two fingerstwo of those long, thick fingersyet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into her. There was no fumbling or searching. Her body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on her for hours. He knew exactly how to touch her there, and when he did she simply had to respond. Her gasp rung out in the small room.

Though she vowed it would be the last one. That was it nowshe wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good she kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why was he the one who had to be so good at this? How did he know how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?

Even watching him do it was exciting. She made the mistake of glancing down and all she could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give her a glimpse of her glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way she was spread around that thick intrusion…