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I stopped grinding my bottom into him. “Friday?”
“To Sunday. Two days of intense personal tuition. I’m sure we can work on many skills.”
He moved his hand down my belly, fondling my skin as he journeyed to my loins. Instinctively, I flattened my stomach and held my breath, waiting for him to hit his target area.
I crushed my thighs together. “Like…what?” My voice betrayed me easily as it faltered.
He probed between my legs, driving them apart with his strong fingers. A multitude of goosebumps struck all over my feverish skin. He slid a digit down into my slit and held my sex in his sturdy hand. He pressed the heel of his palm down on my mound. A wave of tingles erupted from my nub, rippling outward.
“Your tonguing could be improved.”
“Tonguing,” I croaked.
“Mmm. So could your breath control. Deep breaths are essential. I’m sure we can come up with exercises to help—other techniques too.”
“Others?” I groaned, writhing under his strokes.
“I wouldn’t want you to gag on your mouthpiece. Very unsightly.”
As if I’d grown talons, I clawed at the pillow and dragged it to my chest. I hugged the pillow into a bundle. “My mouthpiece isn’t that big.”
“Yes, that might be a problem. You need to use something larger.” His erection, hardened and growing still, rocked in the cleft of my buttocks. “Then, there is your finger work. A strong grip, but you need to be nimble too. For example, assembling your instrument. If you twist too hard, you might damage what you’re screwing.”
“I’m used to an unoiled instrument. I could do with extra lubrication.”
“Good idea. Nothing like a smooth organ to play upon.”
His innuendos tipped me over the edge as his hand went from a playful tweaking to a serious rubbing. Then, his fine-tuning hit a pinnacle. He pinched my clit. I came, biting on the pillowcase, and his pinning leg stopped me from kicking him.
“Very good, Mausi. You are a good girl for suggesting so many ways we can improve your technique.”
I should have found his little lecture patronizing, but he’d inflamed with me lust, not irritation. He released my throbbing clit and slipped his leg off, freeing me.
“I like having sex with you. You’re passionate and my pussy has been spoiled rotten.”
He laughed. “I enjoy spoiling your pussy.” The laughter ceased. He cocked his head to one side. “That’s it?”
He’d flummoxed me with his directness. There was more raging in my head. I fought those feelings, and my ill-defined sentiments held me back from speaking. If I started to spout out about romantic stuff, would he back off? Micah had whenever I got pushy about romance, and he, as much as I tried to forget him, had become the yardstick against which I measured Stefan. I might come to regret that approach. I opted to play cautiously.
I looked away, hiding my face from him. “That’s plenty, isn’t it? Sex with you is keeping me quite busy. What am I now, your supertonic? One note up on the pleasure scale?”
I glanced back in his direction. His lips were pursed, shaping into a subtle frown. The moment our eyes locked together, his expression bounced back into a smile. Had I witnessed a glimmer of disappointment?
“Sure, my supertonic.” He gave my bottom a slap. “Up. Haven’t you got work?”
I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and sat up. “What about you?” I stared at his erection.
“I’ll keep it safe for you. The harder I am, the more tuition for you.”
* * * *
He dropped me off at the Golden Lily. Waving goodbye, I realized that he now knew where I both lived and worked. His advantages grew in number, while mine remained static.
The text from Fiona arrived mid-morning. I’d forgotten I’d arranged to meet her for lunch. I’d already made an appointment after work at the family planning clinic. Hopefully, they could put back the coil I’d had removed when I’d finished with Micah.
Fiona and I were old school friends. She worked as an administrator in one of the university’s faculties. She’d helped me with shopping when my arm had been in plaster and had arranged for my bicycle to be returned to me after the accident.
We met in a Pizza Express for lunch and quickly ordered. Did I tell her about Stefan? I vacillated. She’d been neutral about Micah, keeping her opinions to herself until the break-up. Her politeness had been initially welcome, but in hindsight, I wished she’d been more vocal—after all, that was what friends were for—giving you the home truths. I’d told her as much after I’d finished with Micah and only then, faced with my red, puffy eyes, had she admitted that she hadn’t liked him.
