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Connor turns his hand, bringing his palm to my crotch. He rubs through my jeans, adding pressure as he curls his lips against mine. “Is this what you want?” he asks.
My breath hitches, heavy and wild. “Yes.”
A soft, patient kiss. “Lesson two,” he says. “Don’t be shy.” He moves his hand, fingers caressing down my side. “Tell me what you want me to do, Dana.”
“I don’t know,” I say, my stomach tying in knots. His fingers play with the bottom of my shirt, playfully touching the skin underneath. Another tickle dances through me. “How do I know what to say?”
Connor smiles. “Well, what do you think about when you’re alone?” he asks, his voice like melted chocolate in the back of his throat.
I furrow my brow, confused. “When I’m — oh,” I stop myself, getting it. “You mean alone alone.”
He kisses the edge of my mouth, his fingertips still drawing lines on my hip beneath my shirt. “That’s what I mean, yes,” he says, amused.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
Blood makes itself at home in my cheeks. “Because it’s… private.”
“We all do it.”
“Yeah, but we don’t all think about the same thing when we do it!”
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he says, biting his grinning mouth.
My heart threatens to evacuate my chest. “You go first,” I say.
With another wide smile, Connor looks at me, his eyes showing no fear. “On a table,” he says.
“A table?” I ask.
“With a beautiful naked woman on her back, legs spread wide. I’m standing between her legs, fucking her hard.” His lips graze my cheek. “Gets me there every time.”
“That sounds…” I swallow hard. “Nice.” He kisses my neck, his wicked tongue tasting my skin. “Have you… ever done that before? For real?”
Connor raises his head. “No,” he answers, pensive. “No tables.”
“No opportunity yet?”
“Not yet.” He goes still, those damn wicked fingers still leaving light tickles on my waist. “Tell me yours,” he says.
Don’t be shy.
I look down, far too nervous to look into his penetrating eyes. My tongue turns to stone in my mouth, my thoughts suddenly going blank. What do I think about when I’m alone? Will Connor find it stupid? Or boring? Or…
“Dana,” he says, his tone playful, his eyes patient. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, I want to,” I say. I really do.
He brightens with curiosity, but doesn’t push me further.
I hold my breath. “On top.”
“On top?”
“Yeah, I’m… on top and?—”
Connor moves. In one fluid motion, he sits down in the center of the seat and hoists me over his lap, my knees naturally spread on either side of him.
