Page 12 of Tank’s Weakness

“Absolutely not,” he says adamantly. “What goes on in your head? When I was doing what I did with you, what were you thinking?”

I think back to moments before.

“I was wondering if I smelled okay. Was I sweating too much? What if you didn’t like it? What if you did something I didn’t like? Would I tell you no or just do it because I didn’t want to be embarrassed? Things like that.”

He growls. “First, if I do something you don’t like, you tell me. This should be pleasurable for you. Fuck how I feel. Fuck what any man feels. Be selfish. Take what you deserve. You’re a goddamn queen, so act like it.” He looks away, rubbing his hand on his face. “You gave me a lot to work with. The problem is that you don’t let your body relax. You are high-strung. I suppose you wouldn’t smoke some weed to calm down?” When I glare at him, he continues. “Okay. That’s a no. So we figure out how to do it. When do you feel relaxed?”

“When I’m in control,” I say without hesitation.

He looks at me surprised. “You like to have control. Have you considered dictating how a sexual encounter goes?”

“What does that mean?”

He traces his free hand up my side as he turns more toward me. He looks excited by this new development.

“It means you tell the man what to do. Where to lick you. Where he is allowed to touch you. Take control. Get on top. Suffocate him.”

His eyes light up with each word.

“No. I’ve never done that,” I admit.

“Then let’s try it. You tell me what you want me to do. Order me around. Treat me like your own personal toy.”

That has my nerves flaring to life, but it does sound interesting.

“I don’t know…”

He cups my cheek. “What’s the hesitation?”

I lick my lips. “I’ve never done anything like that. I don’t know how. It’s outside of my comfort zone.”

“Maybe that’s what you need. I’m not saying it will solve your problem overnight, but it could be a step in the right direction.”

I consider it for another moment.

What do I have to lose?

I want to make this work. I want to not be the stiff board Blaine accused me of being. I want to be the type of girl who can go out and have a fun time with a guy and not worry if I will embarrass myself.

Maybe that’s my issue. I have unrealistic expectations.

It could be time to change that, though.

“What do you have in mind?” I finally ask.

“I won’t make any promises, but I want you to pretend I’m not here. Tell me where you want me. Ride my face. Ride my cock. Whatever you need. See how it makes you feel.”

“If it doesn’t work?” I ask.

“Then you can walk out of here and pretend it didn’t happen. Or, if you are feeling adventurous, you take my number and give me a call. We can try again.”

I bite my lower lip. Am I really considering this? I’ve never had sex that was considered kinky. I’ve never even thought about telling a guy what to do. Yet here I sit, naked in bed with a handsome man telling me to do exactly that.

“What about you?”

He laughs. “You’re worried about me? My sweet Laney, don’t even factor me into the equation. Tonight is all about you. I don’t want to come until you’ve come. Understood?”

“My name is Delaney,” I huff.