“Hold up. I’m going to need a drink.”
“Now? How come?”
“Because, Pocket Rocket. Don’t take this the wrong way. I have control. You can trust me. But I’m not a masochist.” At her look of confusion, he sighed. “I don’t get off on torturing myself. And if I sit here and watch you read that book and wait to have a question? It’s gonna hurt. I’ll have a drink. Or six. And be back in an hour. If you have any questions, you can ask them before bed. Once I’m drunk enough to deal with this.”
Before she could say anything else, he was out the door.
It didn’t take long before she was engrossed. There was a section where it discussed a woman touching herself. Lizzy’s eyes opened wider. The instructions were straightforward. Take two fingers and place them in her mouth, give them a gentle suck. She could do this. Right now. No questions. No assistance. She did as the book instructed and then lay back upon the bed, feeling delightfully wicked. She had time. Tuck had said he’d be gone an hour, and besides, she’d hear his heavy boots before he entered the room. Positioning the book on her chest, she opened her legs as the picture showed and pushed up her gown.
Her sex responded to the air in the room, to the sensation of freshness against her delicate skin, which was more sensitive than usual. Of course, she’d touched herself there, but as a matter of utility, washing and such. It always felt pleasant, but nothing she’d considered exploring more. But when her wet fingers slipped inside her cleft, the sensation surprised her. She was wet,and as she swept over the slippery skin, her backside clenched as her lower back bowed up. The book first suggested discovering a small hard pearl and to explore what motion might suit the lady best: circles, diagonal caresses, or whisper-light taps. She started slowly, around and around, so curious to discover at every pass a low, aching pressure that intensified, spreading from between her thighs to her navel.
She played. There was no other word to describe this. It was as if her body were a new thing. A wild thing. And it had a secret power to feel so good. As she found a rhythm that worked, the book fell closed and she pushed it to one side before using her other hand to open herself up more, stretching the skin slightly to increase the rich sensation. Her hips began to rock. What would it be like if someone else were to touch her like this?
She imagined Tuck’s thick, strong fingers here on her delicate, wet softness. The tight ache intensified, and all she could think wasmoreas she increased the pace, the pressure, the friction. A soft moan escaped her lips and she bit down to keep from getting louder. How was it this good? And the idea of him coming and watching made the wetness increase.
She was gasping now, her hitching breath the only sound in the world; her thighs began to tremble and she had an urge to be filled deeply. It wasn’t enough, but when she eased a finger inside, the pressure helped. She put in another finger. Still not full enough, but it was something. One finger bumped against a small rough patch. As if on cue, her eyes rolled back, her heels digging into the mattress. She kept the pressure as her fingers’ pace increased faster, faster. God. Yes. She rolled her head to one side, her body rigid and expectant. This was good. So good. What was she supposed to do with all this feeling?
Stop?
How could she?
No. She needed to keep going. Just a bit more. It kept getting better. How? How could it get— Oh God.
What was happening? She pressed harder and half levitated off the bed as a wave hit her with such force that she yelped. The most immense feeling she’d ever known churned through her, as if she’d turned into pure gold and was melted down rich and warm. And then she felt as if she wouldn’t be able to inhale another breath. Slowly, so slowly, the sensation ebbed, like a wave pulling back and returning to the ocean.
Her eyes flew open. Boots. The loud footfalls were coming. A knock sounded at the door.
“It’s me.” Tuck’s voice was low and rough. “Can I come in?”
“One moment,” she cried out.
She tried to smooth out her hair and put on a face that wouldn’t reveal that she had been shaken to her core. How could she ask about what had happened?
“You may enter.”
He stepped in and froze, locking his gaze with hers, and she had an out-of-body sensation, as if he knew exactly what she’d done and how she was feeling.
“I was getting ready for sleep,” she said as primly as she could manage, given that she was still half panting. “I don’t think I have any questions after all. I’m going to turn in.”
“I see.” And the answer put her on edge. Because she suspected that he did in fact see. That he could read in a glance every strange thought. And she had nowhere to go to reflect on the experience. He’d be in bed next to her. The bed where she’d just made herself feel so many things. She felt as if she’d unlocked a secret power inside of herself and wanted to know more.
He removed his boots with more ease than he’d done before.She put her head on the pillow and tried to close her eyes, but they wouldn’t entirely obey. Peeping through her lashes, she watched him place the boots against the wall. Then he removed his jacket and hung it on a hook. A neat man. He didn’t throw his things about willy-nilly. He filled the water basin and cleaned his teeth. She could watch him do that for hours. His teeth were so straight and bright and perfect.
He briskly splashed water over his face, the motions efficient and practiced. As he turned around, she shut her eyes tight, feigning sleep.
He blew out the lamp and crossed the room in a few slow steps, the mattress yielding to his weight.
He settled in beside her and she couldn’t resist the temptation to peek.
He was watching her, a steady, unreadable expression on his face. “I knew you weren’t asleep.”
Her lips quirked. “You are a remarkably hard person to fool, especially for a man.”
“Men are fools?”
“Most assuredly yes. But you’re unexpected. You take time to understand, instead of assuming you know everything about me based on some preconceived idea of what a lady should be.”
He paused, watching her. “Your face is an open book.”
