“No,” she said, “I don’t need a break. What’s next?”
“Really?” Every woman he’d been with had begged off repeat rounds for at least a half hour after the first, usually on the grounds of oversensitivity. But hey, if Cami was down, he was more than happy to oblige her.
“It didn’t work.”
It took several beats for him to understand what she meant. The words hit his ears, but all he processed was the laxness of her posture. Not satisfaction, but defeat. The sheen to her eyes wasn’t post-orgasm gratification, it was disappointment. She hadn’t come. “Oh.”
“It’s not your fault,” she added hurriedly. “I was afraid this would happen.”
“You were afraid I couldn’t get you off?” He wasn’t sure if he was more baffled or offended.
Her lips pursed, and she shot him an irritated glance, shifting into a sitting position and drawing her legs together. “I’ve never come before.”
He blinked. “Right. You’ve never gotten off by yourself.”
“No, I’ve never gotten off. Ever,” she snapped. Her cheeks were pink, but with embarrassment or annoyance?
Oh.
Oh.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rub it in.” He shifted back to give her some space. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”
She sighed, pulling the comforter of his bed over her lap to shield her nakedness. “It’s not your fault. I don’t mean to be a jerk about it. I’m just frustrated and embarrassed.”
“You don’t need to be. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I just—” She finished her water. “It’s stupid, but I hoped using toys would just magically fix it. Fix…me.”
“Wait—” He blinked. The lull in the action had let some of the urgency out of his erection, but he still pulsed with need for her. It made following her logic a trial. “Why would you need to be fixed?”
“I can’t come, Des. I’m broken.” She rubbed her temple, like talking about it was giving her a headache. She faced him, her eyes shining with a new desperation. “I’ve tried all sorts of things, a million different times. Nothing’s worked. Toys were the only thing I hadn’t tried. If they can’t help me, nothing can.”
He couldn’t grasp how frustrating this must be for her. He’d never had any problem getting off, but he could imagine how the confusion of not managing once could turn into certainty that it would never happen. Trying again and again, only to stop when you were numb, and your wrist ached.
He laid the toys aside and shifted to the edge of the bed to sit next to her. “Cami,” he said, striving for the sincerity the situation required, “you’re not broken. I guarantee that. Lots of people have problems achieving orgasm, especially women. Maybe you just haven’t figured out what you like yet.”
“I did like that.” She flushed. “I liked it a lot. I think I was almost there, but…I don’t know. It’s like I missed it.”
“That’s great. That means we were on the right track.” He didn’t want to cross any boundaries by touching her, but he longed to pull her to him and cradle her until that despondent look left her face. “Maybe you just need a different kind ofstimulation. Or maybe you’ve just gotten so into your own head about it, you’re psyching yourself out. But I promise you, Cami, you can come, and, if you still want to try, I’d love to help you do it.”
“Really?” She peered at him, hesitant in a way that made him certain she doubted it would work.
“Really.” He covered his heart with one hand. “If it takes me the next three years, Camille Sullivan, I will get you off.”
Her lips twitched like she was fighting a smirk. “At least you’re dedicated,” she said, and when he gestured to her, laid back on his bed.
It took every ounce of self-discipline he possessed to reach for the mini Hitachi instead of her. His fingertips itched to touch her, to feel if she was still wet from the first round. For now, he’d have to satisfy himself with the cool plastic shaft, atop which sat a bulbous knob that vibrated at various speeds. He depressed the control button once, and it buzzed on its lowest setting.
“We’ll start slow.”
What may have been protest flickered across her face, but she stayed silent, watching as he brought the vibrator up and laid the bulb against her bare calf. Her only response was a soft inhale.
Des glided the bulb around her skin, letting it massage away any lingering tension. She melted into his mattress. Something clenched in his chest at the sight of her sweat-damp blonde hair spread over his pillow. Cardiac arrhythmia? He smirked. He should see a doctor.
“Will you turn over?” Normally, he would have phrased it as a command, not a question, but theirs was an odd situation, and he wasn’t sure how she would react to a little dominance. She’d chosen to keep her shirt on, after all. This wasn’t supposed to be intimate, and while he enjoyed being bossy in bed, he wasn’t fucking her. Not in the strictest sense of the word.
He couldn’t help but be a bit surprised—and a lot gratified—when she acquiesced after only a brief hesitation. When she was face-down on the bed, a pillow tucked under her hips, he slotted his knee between her thighs and leaned over her. The Hitachi vibrated impatiently in his hand.
