Page 130 of That Rush

His expression doesn’t change—no flicker of disappointment, no teasing edge to his mouth. He is offering a genuine choice, and he will let me keep my fantasies if that’s what I want.

I reach for my worn paperback on the nightstand.

I open to the first yellow tab and hand him the book.

In the scene, the hero sits fully dressed while the heroine straddles his thigh. His instructions are simple: her hands at her sides, use his body for her pleasure. He only watches, talking her through it, refusing to touch her until she asks.

Aiden scans the pages without speaking.

His thumb presses into the spine. His gaze shifts toward the wide reading chair beneath my window, then returns to me.

“You want to use me while I watch,” he says.

“That isn’t a question.”

“No.” His voice drops, rough and controlled. “The question is whether you want to ask.”

“I do.”

Aiden’s focus narrows on my face.

I set both books on the bed and rise. “Sit in the chair.”

He crosses to the reading nook without taking his eyes from me. The chair is wide enough for me to curl sideways with a book, but Aiden fills it when he settles against the back and plants his boots on the floor.

“Like this?”

“Almost.” I step between his knees and push one leg toward the center. “I want your thigh.”

His hands close around the chair arms. “And my hands?”

“They stay there until I ask for them.”

His jaw shifts.

“I also don’t want you holding me down. If I ask you to hold me, I still control how I move.”

“You control all of it.” His voice is already strained. “If you want to stop, we stop.”

“I know.”

“Say it anyway.”

“If I want to stop, I’ll tell you.”

“Good.”

The fictional version never accounted for this feeling of exposure, the raw vulnerability of giving instructions aloud. Aiden waits while I slide off my shorts and underwear. He watches without reaching for me.

I leave my shirt on for now.

I place one knee beside his hip and bring the other over his thigh. The coarse denim presses against my bare pussy when I lower myself onto the solid muscle beneath it.

Aiden’s fingers tighten around the chair arms.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

“Ask me again when I figure out how to do this without falling.”