Page 51 of The Plus One Pact

Then my eyes meet his, and I forget where we are. I forget everything but how much I want to mount him. "Can it be anything?" I ask.

"I don't know." A teasing tone drops into his voice. "Try me." He moves to the couch, takes a seat, looks up at me with all that interest.

He doesn't spread his legs so wide he takes up the whole couch. Only enough to invite my attention.

Only enough to send my thoughts racing to his cock.

He's turning the question around, it's true. But it's fair too. He only offered to drop a little pretense at a time. This isn't two normal people having normal sex.

It can never be that.

But it can be more intimate and more honest than hooker and john.

We can stand on more even ground than therapist and client.

What if I could do anything to him? What would I do?

Even with all my training, it's hard to shift into the mindset of sexual subject. Even with all my experience, I still default to object.

To the things I want him to do to me.

There are things I want to try. Role-plays. Cameras. Mirrors. But I can’t tell him any of that. I don’t care if he’s a professional. I barely know him.

I start with the easy stuff. "I want to take off your shirt."

"Then?" he asks.

"It's hard to imagine what I want then with that shirt in the way." My voice takes on a flirty tone. One I don't expect. Sure, it's not the smoothest dirty talk, but it's something.

"Sounds like a dire problem."

"It's terrible." I take a step towards him.

He looks me in the eyes, daring me to continue. "What are you going to do about that?"

Right. I'm in control. It's a lot. Intimidating, even in this small way.

But there's no doubt in my mind. I know I want to see him without his clothes. I know I want to touch him. I know I want to feel my body against his body.

Maybe there's not some sophisticated scene, but it's plenty.

I close the space between us.

I slide onto the couch, next to him, but that's not enough. I swing my legs over his and sit, so I'm straddling him.

Slowly, I pull his shirt over his head.

I drop the fabric behind me.

"Better?" he asks.

"Much." I settle into the position. Let my body soak in the feeling of his body. His flesh between my legs. His torso six inches from mine. His breath on my collarbones.

"What else, dolce?" There's something in his tone. A falseness.

"Do you use that line with everyone?" I ask.

"With some," he says.