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“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not the problem? It was that piss-poor excuse of a boyfriend you had.”
I opened my eyes. I didn’t even realize I had closed them. But when I opened them, Ansel was studying my face. Goddess, he was so handsome. Beautiful, even. His strong jaw, steely eyes, and perma-pout lips transcended beyond just ruggedly handsome. I wanted to believe him so badly.
“There it is again,” he said, running his finger between my brows. “What is it going to take for you to realize there is nothing wrong with you?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Trust me, if I knew there was some magic fix out there, I would have tried it already.” I was beyond shame at this point. Whatever shred of dignity I had left vanished long ago. I was ready to lay it all out in the open for Ansel.
How long until I started to annoy him, I wondered? I had already over-shared an unhealthy amount about Carter; Ansel and my therapist could share notes at this point. There had to be a point where Ansel rolled his eyes and said,“We get it. Your boyfriend broke up with you because you’re a loser and bad at sex. Let’s move on, I’m getting bored.”
Yet as that worry crossed my mind, I had the distinct feeling I could talk about Carter and everything that went wrong in our relationship until I was blue in the face and Ansel would listen to every word. Because he . . . cared about me? Ansel kidnapped me, was it too far of a stretch to say he cared about my emotional wellbeing?
Or was I following my well-established pattern of flipping a toxic situation into a healthy one?
“Where are you going?” I said, realizing Ansel was no longer lying next to me. He had pushed himself up from the bed and had moved to stand by the end, the same exact place where I had stood when I had taken off his boots for him.
“I’m realizing you’re more of a tactile learner,” he said, as if I was supposed to understand what the hell that had to do with anything. “So, I want to try something.” He grabbed my ankles and dragged my body towards him until my legs were dangling off the side of the bed. My heart hammered in my chest, whatever he was about to do was crazy, but if he thought it might help, I was willing to try anything. “Think of it as an exercise to help you relax. I want you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing.” His hands wrapped around my thighs, just above my knees, holding me in place. It shocked me how quickly he had sobered up. Must be an orc thing.
“What are you going to do?” I asked in a shaky voice.
“I told you—help you relax. I guess if you’re looking for a name, we can call it a breathing exercise.”
I nodded, mostly to myself. Breathing exercises, I could do that. No problem. I was in therapy: meditation, focused breathing, mindfulness. I had tried it all.
“Close your eyes, Skye,” Ansel ordered in that stern-principal voice I loved.
So bossy.I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. But it was hard to concentrate, to relax, when my pulse pounded in my ears. Ansel stood there with his hands resting on my legs for some time. “Woah! What are you doing?” I asked as he started to lift both my feet in the air. “I thought we were breathing, not folding me into a pretzel.”
“I told you to close your eyes,” he said, adjusting both my ankles so he could balance them in one hand. He leaned half his body over me, his torso hovering directly over mine, and hooked a finger into the waistband of my sweatpants. From my angle, I could see his growing bulge in the front of his boxer briefs. “If I do anything you’re not okay with, tell me and I will stop. Until then, you need to listen to me, do you understand?” He held my gaze from his bent position over the bed. He raised an eyebrow, probably waiting for me to kick my feet and give him a proper fight.
The thing was though . . . I didn’t feel like fighting tonight. Not like I had at the club when he fucked me delirious with his fingers. I liked playing this strange cat-and-mouse game, but tonight? Tonight, I wanted to show him I could be a good girl too.
I let out a shuddering breath and nodded that I understood.
“Good,” he said, dragging his gaze down my body, his gray eyes settling on my waist.
I closed my eyes and focused on slowing my breathing as Ansel carefully peeled my sweatpants down my legs and off my ankles. I heard a light thud as he tossed the clothing somewhere across the room, but I kept my eyes closed. I don’t know why. I could blame the alcohol for making me obey his strange orders, but he was right. I could finally relax with my eyes closed. My constant internal monologue wasn’t as loud without the extra stimulation. All I had to focus on was my breathing, and Ansel’s fingers digging into my skin.
There was a thud; something heavier. I peeked. Ansel had sunk to his knees in front of the bed. I closed my eyes again before I could lose my nerve and tell him to stop.
“I’ve told you I’m a light sleeper, right?” he asked, his mouth so close to my legs I could feel the tickle of his breath. His fingers started to dig into my thigh muscles as he massaged the skin there.
“Yes.” The answer came out sounding like a question. I remembered the fact perfectly well. I just couldn’t figure out what this had to do with relaxing, or what he was about to do.
He squeezed harder, and I couldn’t help but gasp a little as his fingers dug into the pressure points above my knees. When he spoke, it came from deep within his chest. A gritted sound, like it was too painful to speak out loud, “For the past two nights, I have had to listen to you touch yourself. Do you know how hard that is, sweetling? Listening to your soft little moans and just having to lay there, not doing anything about it? To just lay there andtake it?I would rather be tortured for a hundred hours than sit through one more night of that.”
I swallowed thickly. “Oh.” I paused for a long beat, swallowing again until my mouth was wet enough to speak. “What . . . what would you do, if you could do something . . .?” I let my voice trail off. I couldn’t believe I was egging him on, but I had to know. Needed to know.
“I haven’t slept much these past nights, you can probably imagine why.” He gripped my legs and dragged me closer, so my ass was practically hanging off the edge of the mattress. “So, I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and honestly, I’m having a hard time deciding.” He adjusted my legs so they hung over his shoulders. My eyes were still closed, but I could feel his face inches away from the front of my panties. “I’m torn between licking you slowly—painfully slow—and savoring every taste until you're begging for me to let you come, or letting you ride my fingers again and again until your voice is hoarse from screaming my name.”
Both. Both sound good.
He pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh; the pointed edges of his tusks brushing against my skin there. “How does that sound, sweetling? Any preference between the two options?”
“Dealer’s choice?” I said weakly. I opened my eyes to stare down at him perched between my legs. I had no intention of closing my eyes again—breathing exercise or not. It wasn’t every day you had a sexy orc kneeling in front of you, wearing your legs like a backwards scarf. And I intended to watch every moment.
“Good,” he said. “I have been wanting to taste you for a while now. Buckle in, lass, because once I start, nothing can make me stop. I’ve been thinking about this moment for a very long time, and I intend to savor it until you beg me to stop.”
He worked his way up my thigh, kissing and licking the skin until my entire body was covered in goosebumps, slowly working towards my pussy. By the time he reached my panties, I was already soaked.
