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Sophia glanced down, then away, suddenly too nervous to smile.
“Hey,” Jay said softly. “You sure you want to do this?”
He kept rubbing his thumbs over her skin, his hands gentle on hers. Sophia found herself remembering Lesson One. And then Lesson Two.
She nodded. “Yes. If it’s OK with you.”
His hands tightened slightly on hers. “Soph. It’smorethan OK with me.”
“I don’t understand though,” she said, forcing herself to speak even though embarrassment crawled up her neck. “I don’t know why you’d want to. You’re not getting any pleasure from it.”
“I will,” he said, with great certainty. “And this is something important you should remember for Simon or whoever the next lucky guy is. If they don’t get pleasure from giving you pleasure, get rid of them. No one should be selfish in bed.”
She glanced up at him, wondering at the extent of his experience. Just how many women had he done this with? How many had done things to him in return?
She didn’t even know how to do that. And there was a part of her, she realised, that wanted to give him something in return. She wanted totouchhim…and she felt the heat of that idea spread, down low, and started to realise why he had been so sure that he would enjoy doing this.
“Erm, shall we…” she nodded vaguely towards the bed, her hands still in his.
“OK.”
It was a big bed, a double king, but it still felt incredibly small with all the length and bulk of Jay’s large, male body lying next to her. His weight made the mattress dip towards him. Jay looked down at her, propped on one elbow. He smiled reassuringly, though his eyes were unusually serious.
He took hold of one of her hands, thumb circling her palm in that maddening, irresistible way. Gently, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, and her breath caught.
“I’m going to kiss you first,” he said. “If that’s OK. It will help.”
She swallowed. “OK.”
He leaned down, still holding her hand, and, like before, he brushed his lips across hers, softly, softly.
She remembered this. Her body remembered it—and the pleasure that came after. She moved her lips against his, seeking it, and he responded, pressing his mouth more firmly against hers, his lips confident and sure, showing hers how to open, coaxing his way inside with the lick of his tongue.
She gasped, heat flooding her as he kissed her like that, with heat and taste and tongues, letting go of her hand to curl his hand into her hair, bringing his body further over her. The weight of him was a new, delicious addition, and she remembered the press of his thigh between her legs—
His hand came to rest on her knee. She faltered slightly, awareness knocking through the swirling heat of her mind.
“Soph…” he breathed, his voice thick. “Are we good?”
“I just… I always imagined it would be dark, that you wouldn’t be able to see me… I feel self-conscious.”
He took his hand from her knee and stroked her hair back from her face. His eyes shone liquid grey, pearlescent and beautiful. But she couldn’t look at them, not this close, with so much intensity there between them. She turned her head to the side and found herself looking at his bicep instead where it stretched the fabric of his t-shirt, his arm tensed, holding his weight.
“OK,” he said. “I have an idea.”
He moved, sitting up against the headboard, his legs spread, and patted the space between them. “Sit here, with your back leaning against me.”
A little embarrassed, she did as he suggested. She tensed slightly, the feel and solidity of him quite overwhelming. But he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her more firmly against him until she just…gave in. Her body relaxed into the warmth and strength of him, her back moulded against his chest. He rested his cheek on her head and murmured, “That’s it, I’ve got you.”
He ran his hands soothingly up and down her arms, pausing every now and then to stroke her hair. “You should always feel in control, Soph. Anything you don’t like, you just say. We can stop any time. Do you trust me?”
“Yes. I do, Jay.”
“OK.” He kissed the top of her head. Then he kissed her cheek, her jaw, the side of her face that was turned towards him. His mouth was whisper soft, just the suggestion of a kiss really, as his hands stroked up and down her arms like a gentle massage.
Up and down, stroking her arms and pressing soft kisses against her cheek, her neck, her hair, until her shoulders loosened and she relaxed more fully against him.
His right hand moved now, down from her shoulder to brush over her breast. She gasped a little, back arching slightly as his hand caressed her breast again, brushing lightly over her nipple.
