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“Maybe.” Aidan smirks. “But they’ll not know that the woman screaming in pleasure isyou. Now stop stalling. Be a good girl and lift your skirt.”
I suck in a breath and forget all about the people outside.Be a good girl.One finger at a time, I release my grip on my shirt and drop my arms. Aiden is watching me intently, expectantly. I don’t want to disappoint him. My heart is hammering againstmy ribcage as I pull my skirt up, inch by inch.
“W-what are you doing?” I ask as Aidan sinks to his knees in front of me.
He looks up, licking his lips. “I need to find out what’s going on, why you can’t orgasm.”
“Oh. Um. Yes. I guess that makes sense.” But my cheeks are flaming hot as I raise the skirt the last few inches, my fingers gripping the hem so tight, I’m afraid the fabric will tear.
“I had hoped you had white cotton panties on, but baby pink will do.”
“What?” I ask, puzzled. “Should I wear white? Would that help?”
“What would help is to get you out of them,” he answers gruffly.
Before I quite understand what’s happening, Aidan pulls my panties down, his face directly in front of my private parts. I squeeze my eyes shut, a squeak finding its way out of my mouth. I could die of shame right now.
“You don’t shave?”
My eyes pop open in confusion. “Of course, I do.” When he looks up at me, I explain, “I do. The bikini line.”
“Why do you shave the bikini line?”
“Um, well, Mum tells me that if I’m on the beach or in the swimming pool, it will look vulgar if any, um, hair is showing.”
“Well, Caitlin. When you go home tonight, I want you to shave as if you were going to a nudist beach.” A burst of a laugh bubbles up my throat at the absurdness of that statement. “You wouldn’t want to bevulgarand show any pubic hair, would you?”
“You’re so naughty, Mr Byrne.”
He grins wide, a wicked, wicked grin. Then he whispers, “Spread your legs for me, Caitlin.”
I swallow tightly and shuffle my feet apart, my cheeks burning. He taps my ankle.
“Wider.”
I watch in rapt fascination as he brings his hand up and brushes over the ginger curls. He holds my gaze as his fingers trail lower, down to the crease point between my legs. Directly on the skin.
“Oh, my – that’s a lot more sensitive than over the panties,” I whisper. He hums and presses a digit against my sex. It slips between my lips. My legs almost give out and I grab the glass counter with one hand for support as the finger moves back and forth. “T-that is alotmore sensitive.”
“You’re so wet for me,” Aidan mumbles, and embarrassingly, I can hear the wetness where he’s touching me.
“Is that good or bad?” I ask.
“It’s good,” he replies, and I guess he’s right, as it makes his finger glide against my skin, waking dormant nerve endings that start to fire orbs of heat. A moan slips past my lips and I tilt my hips and shuffle my feet further apart.
“Let’s try something else.”
Then his mouth is on me.
I almost squeal. “Y-you can’t… you can’t kiss me there!” A burst of a rainbow shoots from between my legs as Aidan finds what has to be a pot of gold. “You’re French kissing me… there!”
The counter is digging into my backside, supporting my balance that is all but gone. My head is spinning, and Aidan grunts as I pull at his hair.
“Sorry,” I stutter and remove my hand that I can’t remember moving to his head in the first place. The other one is stillholding up my skirt. Aidan grabs my wrists and places it back on his head. His mouth is glistening as he looks up at me with dark eyes and says, “Hold on to me, show me where you want me.”
“I think you’ve pretty much found where I want you a-a-already…”
He dives back in and my fingers instinctively curl around his soft strands, pressing his head more firmly against me. My hips rock and I’m lost to this sensation that is increasing with every stroke of his tongue, every suck of his mouth. It’s too much, I can’t take it.
