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This feels good.
My hand grazes her breast, the nipple pebbling against my palm. My blood blows through my veins. Gathers in the tip of my dick.
This feels better.
I’m so fucking glad I agreed to her idea of a long, hot rinse after breakfast while we waited for the special ingredient to kick in.
Still. I don’t know if hooking up with her again is right. We haven’t talked about any ground rules or expectations. Which isn’t like me. I’m always upfront with my partners.
But I’m starting to learn everything is different with Greer. I don’t want to push her away or hurt her. Not when she’s made such progress regaining her confidence. Her voice. And wouldn’t it be presumptuous of me to bring it up? I just want us both to enjoy whatever comes next. I don’t want her holding back.
I don’t want to hold back. Maybe because, if I’m being honest, it’d be disingenuous of me to say this is just sex. It’s more than that. It’s better because it’s more than inserting tab A into slot B. And it’s filling me up in a way I’ve never experienced before.
Greer looks up at me over her shoulder. Her pupils are enormous. She grins. “You feel it? I feel it.”
“I feel it.” I give my dick a lazy stroke. Suck in a breath at the warm, needy sensation that ripples through every inch of my skin. “Yeah, I definitely feel it.”
She watches my hand move. Licks her lips. Looks up at me with those doe eyes. “Teach me? How you like to be touched.”
For a beat I just stand there, my own towel in my other hand. I’m aware of the water that drips down my chest and legs. There’s a small puddle at my feet. It’s turned cold, the water. But I feel hot. And . . . exhilarated.
I dry myself off and hang my towel on a nearby hook. Then I dry Greer off and turn her around so her back is to my front. Both of us naked. We’re facing the floor to ceiling mirror beside the vanity. Late morning light streams through the blinds behind us, making the room glow. Or maybe that’s just this feeling inside me. Looking in the mirror, I realize Greer and I really are glowing. Big eyes. Bigger smiles.
God, I’ve missed getting high. I didn’t do it much in college because I was an athlete and got tested often. I also got tested when I started my job at the bank. But I quickly learned you don’t get tested after that. So Porg and I would get stoned after our Saturday rowing sessions on the Catawba River. Then work ramped up and I spent weekends on the trading desk more often than not. Out went the weekly rowing and the weed (although I was able to row with George last weekend, which was a nice treat).
I need to bring both those things back.
Greer shivers when I reach around between her legs. I bend my neck and kiss her throat while I gently part her pussy with my first two fingers. “But this is about you.”
“Pleasing you”—her breath hitches when I find her clit—“pleases me. One of the first lessons you gave me.”
I groan. She’s good. “That wasn’t even on purpose.”
“Still an important lesson.” She reaches back and wraps her hand around my shaft. Just that simple touch—fingertips to skin—nearly bowls me over. “Show me what you like, Brooks. I want to learn.”
I dip my finger inside her and find the moisture I’m looking for. I spread it all over her slit. She fists me, firming her grip, then gives me a slow, hard tug.
Fireworks. I see them. Feel the color and heat shimmering all over my body.
Can’t help it. I smile.
“What?” she breathes.
“Your feel. Your words. I want. I like it when you say that. Especially when you say you want me.”
I forgot how honest I am when I’m high. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not.
“I want to make you come so hard you see stars.”
“Jesus.”
“Not my name.”
“Greer.”
“I like it when you call me sweetheart”—her breath hitches when I gather her nipple between my thumb and forefinger—“I want you to call me that.”
“All right, sweetheart. You wanna use your hands?” I glide my lips down the slope of her shoulder. “Or your mouth?”
She lifts that shoulder, urging me to meet her eyes. “My mouth.”
I smile harder. “Good answer.”
Greer turns around. Bites her lip. Then she’s sinking to her knees on the bathmat, one leg at a time.
Watching her fall back on her haunches, eagerness written all over her face, my dick feels heavy.
I take her chin in my hand. “Do you swallow?”
The question is crude. But Greer just licks her lips. “I haven’t. But I can. I will, for you.”
All the oxygen leaves my chest cavity.
