Page 104 of Badd Love
I began by counting moments—not literally counting seconds, just…hyperaware of the moment, of the silence, and more than anything, of the fact that I was luxuriating in the delicious glow and hazy contentment of post-orgasmic bliss.
And he wasn't.
I'd gotten him all rowdy and ready to go, and then abandoned that effort. Guilt over this was acidic and shame-inducing.
"Dane, I…" I was at war with myself—I prided myself on not being a cock-tease, and a significant portion of my being was attuned to his desire, his need, and wanted nothing more than to satiate his desire and meet his needs; yet, at the same time, another just as significant portion of myself was in desperate need of exactly and only this—intimacy without expectation.
He tilted my chin up and to the side, and his lips met mine. "Hush. It's fine," he whispered.
"I'm not a tease, Dane, I promise," I said, hating how tearful I sounded.
The bastard had the gall tochuckle. "You think I don't know that?"
"But you gave me an orgasm, and I haven't—"
"I'm not keeping score, Linz. I did what I did because I wanted to. Because I enjoy making you come." His lips ghosted over mine, teasing kisses even as he whispered to me. "I go down on you because I love the way your pussy tastes. Because I love the sounds you make when I lick your hard little clit." His fingers slid and danced and tripped and walked down my torso to my navel, to my pudendum, and then to my clit, feathering soft, gentle touches to the bundle of already-sensitive nerves. "I go down on you because I love the way you move when you're about to come for me."
He had me gasping, had my hips tipping forward as he circled my clit, pushing me up toward the peak of yet another climax. ]
"I make you come because there's nothing on this earth that gives me more joy and more pleasure thanyou," he said, his lips moving on mine, kissing and whispering, touching and sliding. "I don't needanythingfrom you, my love. I'm not keeping track. I'll never, ever keep score. I'll make you come a hundred fucking times and never once stop to wonder if it'sfair.” He laced the word with such vitriol as to make it almost a curse word.
"But you're all…” I wiggled against him, rubbing my back against his hard-on. "I know that has to be uncomfortable."
"Sure, a bit, but don't worry about that. I know we'll connect that way soon enough. I have absolutely zero doubt that at some point in the very near future, you will show my sad, neglected penis all the attention I could ever want or need." He cupped my cheek, brushed my cheekbone with a thumb. "I ask for nothing. I expect nothing. I'm not sitting here pissed off because I have a hard-on that you're not fixing right the fuck now. I can handle being hard and not doing anything about it. And to be perfectly honest with you, any guy that tries to guilt a woman into doing something for him because he happens to have an erection is a sad, selfish, pathetic piece of shit."
"But Dane, I dowantto—"
"I know," he interrupted. "I know you do. But I also know that right now, this is more important."
"All we're doing is laying here, though."
As we spoke, his erection was subsiding, and with it, my stupid sense of guilt that I wasn't doing anything about it.
Which made me realize that I may have a fucked-up sense of obligation. He saw it, but I didn't, until now. He chose to forgo his own release to free me, in a way, from my sense of obligation.
"Exactly," Dane said. "Just breathe, honey. Let me hold you."
Panic took hold, because of course it did. "But I'm…you're…fuck." I couldn't breathe for a moment. "I have to earn it," I whispered, the words tumbling out unbidden.
"Earn what?"
Earn what, indeed? Why had I said that? What did I think I had to earn?
I examined myself and found the answer right there, top of mind, like a Maraschino cherry resting on top of a melting swirl of Reddi Whip.
"You," I whispered through gritted teeth. "Being happy."
"Why would you have to earn being happy?"
"If it were logical, I'd understand it myself." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm so fucking sick of all this shit inside me. I just want to fucking…be.”
I realized he'd stopped touching me. I didn't mind—in this moment, that's not what I wanted anyway.
"Just let me hold you, Lindsey. No expectations. I don't want or need anything from you right now other than to lay here in my arms and just fucking exist with me. You don't have to earn it, honey. I love you for free."
"Your love doesn’t cost a thing?"
He snorted quietly. "Deep cuts with the facts."
