Page 16 of Mating Theory
My knees are still weak from coming when I drag her to the couch. Be damned to selfishness and stubbornness. I need to taste her pussy. Need to make her come. Need to have sex the way that feels good to me, and that’s with my face between her thighs.
She puts up a startled fight. “Wait. What? I don’t—”
“I need to taste you,” I say, damn near begging. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says no. I need the salt sweet on my tongue. I need her velvet folds against my mouth.
“Yes,” she breathes, and I let out a whoosh of relief.
I spread her legs, ready to dive in—but I pause to look at her, because I haven’t. How backwards this sex is, when it’s paid for. Sex first and kissing later. A blowjob first and looking later.
She’s pink and pale, like a flower when it’s first bloomed. The idea of other men using her, without any appreciation of what they have, makes me sick. Even though I’m one of those men.
I nuzzle against the inside of her thigh, and she gives a breathless, ticklish laugh.
Next comes a gentle bite, a graze of my teeth, because sometimes pleasure hurts. She makes a mewling sound that turns my cock to steel again.
I lick her from the base of her sex to her clit, lingering at the slick nub, swirling it with my tongue, lapping with increasing force until she shudders and jerks and comes. At the end her hands come to tangle in my hair, to hold me still where she wants, and I groan my approval.
Need builds to a fever pitch. I fumble in my pants for another condom, wincing as it slides over my still-slick cock. God, I’m going to ache when this is over, and I won’t regret a thing.
She’s still swollen from coming, and I press the head of my cock into her pink flesh. She squirms, and I murmur soft words. “It’s okay, sweet thing. You can take me.”
“Wait,” she gasps. “Wait. Wait.”
I pause with only an inch of me inside her, gasping at the strain. I want to plunge inside her heat. I want to fuck her hard. Instead I’m held captive in this space, panting. “What is it? I can go slower.” I don’t know how, but somehow I’ll find a way to slow down if that’s what she needs. “Is this too fast?”
“No. Go ahead. Do it.” Except her voice doesn’t sound excited anymore. She sounds strained. Her face is pressed sideways into the couch, and I turn her chin so I can see her eyes. Tears glisten there. Shit. I yank myself out of her, ignoring the yowling protest of my dick.
“What the hell is wrong?” Jesus. I force myself to calm the fuck down. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Just do it.”
She holds her legs apart so I can—what? Plunge inside without any more foreplay? Fuck her even though she’s crying? My insides turn cold. Nothing about her pose looks sexy now.
It just looks like someone trying to please me. Because that’s what she is.
My cock is still hard, still hopeful it will get to be inside her, the stupid fuck.
I collapse onto my back next to her on the couch. “Jesus,” I mutter. “Someone did a number on you, didn’t they? Probably several someones. I’m going to hell for this.”
She brings her knees close together and wraps her arms around them. It’s a protective pose, and something in my heart cracks at the sight. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“It’s just that my first… my last… the one customer I had before you… he wasn’t gentle with me. Not like you were. So I don’t know why I freaked out like it would be the same.”
“You’ve only had one customer before me?”
She whispers staring straight ahead. “It hurt so bad.”
Christ. I want to ask if she was a virgin before that or if she’s ever had good sex. What a fucking world to live in, where there are women with no other choices. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“No, what you did… it…” Her cheeks turn the same shade of pink as her pussy. “It felt good.”
So tempting. It’s so fucking tempting to spread her legs and show her how good it can feel to play with her clit while I pump into her pussy. To fuck her bare and then lick the liquid from her pussy. I want to do so many things with her, but I’m not going to.
It hurt so bad.
Fuck.
Chapter Eight
Sutton
I wake up to the sound of Bowie, my rooster. He reminds me I need to check on the goddamn hens. Thankfully I have Whitney who lives in the guesthouse or all the animals would have starved by now. Including me. Even so I’ve been shirking my duties. Exactly like Dad used to do. Hell.
