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He runs a hand over his face. “Jesus. Surely you had one during oral?” When I don’t answer, his eyes widen. “You’re kidding me? None of the guys you’ve been with have gone down on you?”
“No.” Even though I’m embarrassed, I have to stifle a laugh at his incredulous look.
“Why not?” he asks, obviously baffled.
“I don’t know. They never offered. I assumed guys didn’t like doing it.”
“Well, I guess some don’t, but…” He seems at a loss for words.
I nibble my bottom lip. “Do you like doing it?”
His eyes take on a sultry look. “Yeah.” He tips his head to the side and says in a lazy voice, “You taste nice.”
I know he means girls in general, but the implication that I would taste nice if he went down on me fills me with heat.
“Most girls say it’s the easiest way to achieve an orgasm,” he adds.
My gaze slides to his mouth as I imagine him kissing down my body, parting my legs, and then kissing me downthere. Holy shit. The thought makes my head spin. How would it feel?
“Any guy worth his salt will give his partner oral,” Damon says. He looks bemused, almost as if he thinks I’m making it up. “A guy should never take it without giving it. Did you get any foreplay at all?”
I’m getting more and more embarrassed now. I’d assumed my experience was normal, but his indignation suggests I’ve been naïve.
“Be honest,” he adds.
It’s too late to stop now. And besides, even though I’m starting to feel resentful toward the guys I’ve been with, I’m learning so much that I don’t want him to stop talking.
“Honestly?” I say. “I think the men I’ve been with thought of foreplay as a hurdle they had to overcome before they got to the good stuff. There was a bit of kissing and groping, and then they went at it for about two minutes before they… you know. And that’s it. I assumed it was the same for everyone.”
“It’s not,” he says. “You really think Jo would be happy with that?”
I blink at his sharp tone. “What am I supposed to do? Demand a guy go down on me? Insist that he give me an orgasm?”
“Well, yeah. Maybe not insist, but request? Tell him how you like to be touched and pleasured.”
I don’t reply. I can’t tell a man how I like to be touched because I don’t know.
He frowns. “Belle, can I ask you a question? A personal one?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
“Have you ever given yourself an orgasm? When you’re on your own, I mean?”
My face burns. “Um… no. I don’t think I’ve ever had one.”
He looks horrified. I’d find it funny if I didn’t feel so sad.
“You don’t touch yourself?” he asks, confused and curious.
“Um… no. I thought it was… I don’t know… wrong somehow.”
“Belle,” he says. “Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“It’s not wrong! It’s perfectly normal.”
I blink. “How do you know?”
