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Personal?
Of course it’s personal. We just had sex. Sex like I’ve never thought possible. Granted, my experience is limited, but evenIdidn’t imagine it could be as good as it was.
All we did was kiss. Then he licked me, and then we had sex.
Still so much we didn’t explore. I didn’t get to touch him all over with my lips. I didn’t get to feel him suck on my nipples.
And we didn’t use any of the…implements in this room.
And oddly? I’m intrigued by every single one of them.
I want to learn more. Not just about how to please a man but how to specifically please Jackson Paris.
He rolls off me then, lies silently at my side. I finally open my eyes and turn to look at him. His are closed, his arm over his forehead, and he looks…
Upset? Regretful?
The truth is that I don’t know, and I can usually read Jackson like a book.
But all this time… All this time I thought I knew him as well as I knew myself. I had no idea he had a kinky side.
I had no ideaIhad a kinky side.
I’m on the pill. He knows that. I’ve been on it since I was in high school because of irregular periods. Not only that, but Jackson would never put me in harm’s way, which means he’s clean. Heck, I’d bet this place requires testing every month or so. After all, they all but guarantee your safety here.
So no worries there. Now my worries are limited to the fact that I may have just ended my friendship with Jackson.
And I don’t know what I’ll do without him.
Ambivalence rolls through me. This is what I wanted. This is what I’ve dreamed of for years and years. But he’s regretful. I can see it in the way his body is stiff when he should be relaxed.
“Jack…” I finally eke out.
“What?”
I don’t think he means to sound terse. Maybe I’m imagining it.
“I…I think I’d like to go home now.”
It’s not what I want. At least it’s notallof what I want. What I want is to escape from this feeling—this feeling that we just did something wrong. Why do I feel this way? We’re two consenting adults. We did nothing wrong. In fact, I immensely enjoyed every second of it.
All those years when I was worried I’d never had a real orgasm? I was right. I’ve had one now, and there’s no doubt in my mind about what I was missing before.
Still…it’s weird. I never imagined this weirdness in my fantasies about Jackson.
“Okay,” he finally says.
But he doesn’t move.
What is he waiting for? Does he want me to say something? Does he want me to assure him that this is okay? That I understand it can never happen again?
I’m not going to do that. Iwantit to happen again. What Idon’twant is this feeling of unease between us.
If only he would look at me, meet my gaze, tell me he loves me and he always has.
I can’t wait for that. Besides, his gaze won’t be his, not with those colored contacts that cover the green-and-gold beauty of his eyes.
That’s not how I want to hear his profession of love.
