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If this is what he likes, I want to please him.
I look around the private suite. A king-size bed, something that looks kind of like a massage table, a wall full of whips and cuffs and ropes, most of which I’ve never seen before.
I inhale the relaxing fragrance. “Teach me.”
“We begin at the beginning, then,” he says, leading me toward the bed. “Lie down.”
I obey. The red silk comforter is like a cool breeze on my blazing body—a sensual contradiction, and already I’m sizzling between my thighs.
“Spread your legs,” he says.
No one has seen that part of me. Not in lighting like this. All my experiences have been in the dark, and neither Tracy nor Seamus ever went down on me.
I prepped the area. Shaved my pubes into a thin triangle. Will Jackson like it? Am I pretty down there? I have no idea, and my nerves are doing a polka beneath my skin. But I’m determined to see this through.
“Don’t make me say it again,” he growls.
This time I obey him. I spread my legs.
And he draws in a breath.
Does that mean he likes what he sees? I know so little about men. I trulydoneed a teacher.
“Cup your breasts,” he says.
Again, I obey, though I’d rather he be the one cupping my breasts.
“Touch your nipples,” he says. “Lightly.”
I flutter my fingers over my hard nipples. Jolts of desire arrow through me at warp speed. Just from my fingers. My God…
“Now pull on them,” Jackson says. “Tug on them softly and imagine it’s my lips.”
“I’d rather it be your lips,” I say, tossing my shyness to the wind.
God, if that isn’t the truth.
How often have I fantasized about this? How often have I imagined Jackson sucking on my nipples, sucking between my legs?
Will it happen tonight? Or will I only touch myself?
My clit is throbbing. I’m so wet. I hate to think what my juices are doing to this beautiful silk comforter.
“Keep touching yourself…”
I continue to pull on my nipples, and my eyes close, seemingly of their own accord. A soft sigh escapes me.
“Yes,” he says. “Keep those eyes closed, Mandy.”
“Oh…”
“Good. Now take your right hand, remove it from your nipple, trail it down your belly, and stop between your legs.”
I obey him once more, sift my fingers through my trimmed pubic hair.
“Are you wet?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
