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She was quiet for several moments and then, “I think I’ve earned myself the rest of that wine.”
Although the idea of her walking naked across my living room was a vision I would fucking love, she’d already fulfilled every obligation this evening, so I got up and retrieved the drink for her. When I returned, she was putting her clothes back on—a sad scene as she covered that beautiful body.
I waited until she buttoned her jeans and slid on her top, stretching her arms through the blazer before I handed her the wine.
“Cheers,” she said, clinking her glass to mine.
We both took sips.
“I’ve got plans this weekend,” I told her, “but sometime early next week, I’m thinking we knock out lesson two. You do know what that means, right?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“I need your fantasy list.”
She licked the wine off her bottom lip and smiled. “I can do that, no problem.”
“I have to say, Oaklyn, you’re an extremely studious student so far.”
“Maybe you’re just a good teacher.”
I chuckled. “What exactly have I taught you?”
She swallowed the rest of her wine and went into the kitchen to place the glass in the sink. When she came back to the living room, she didn’t sit. She stood halfway between the couch and my front door. “More than you think,” she finally replied.
There was a lightness to her expression.
A happiness.
A look that showed full contentment.
“I’ll text you my list.”
I nodded.
“Good night, Camden.” She raised her hand to her mouth and blew me a kiss. “See you later.”
I watched her walk out, and as I heard the door click closed, that only reinforced that she’d passed lesson one.
But whatever she chose for lesson two and beyond, I didn’t think it would go as well.
It couldn’t.
Because I had a feeling Oaklyn was going to need more from me. More security. More of a promise that this wasn’t just physical. Most women weren’t like men in that way. Sex was just an endgame to us, but for most of them, they couldn’t disconnect their pussy from their heart—the two were joined, running simultaneously. When that happened, when she realized she needed assurance and I couldn’t give it to her, she’d snap.
She’d pull back on the proposition.
And we’d be done.
That still didn’t solve the problem I had right now, which was my ass on this couch with a raging fucking hard-on in my pants.
Sure, there were plenty of women I could call, chicks who had more than enough experience to do whatever I wanted.
But something had become extremely apparent tonight.
Something I didn’t want to even admit to myself.
Not a single one of those women—or any I’d ever been with—could compare to Oaklyn Rose.
