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His mouth parted slightly, he definitely looked surprised.
“Please, can I?”
“Can you what?” he asked in a low, demanding voice.
Nooo. He wanted her to say it?
“I’m not the best at . . . at talking in the bedroom,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be good at it. All you need to do is answer when I ask a question, remember?”
“Yes.” She remembered. Only, some questions were more difficult to answer than others. But this one shouldn’t be. It was quite simple.
“Tell me what you want.”
Why was that always so hard for her? To tell someone when she needed something? To ask for help?
Tell him what you want.
“I want to touch your cock,” she blurted out. “To make you come.”
“And how will you do that?”
“Do you always talk this much during sex?” she countered.
He raised his eyebrows. “Nope.”
Um. Okay. So she was just special?
“You want my dick in your mouth, girl?”
Oh. Holy heck. Had he just said that? No one had ever bluntly come out and asked her like that.
“I . . . I . . .”
He simply stared down at her, waiting calmly for her answer.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He moved his arms over the back of the sofa and nodded at her. She guessed that was permission, but now she felt nervous. What if she was no good at it? What if she did something he didn’t like?
“Girl, just do what you want,” he said in a gentler voice. “You won’t do anything wrong.”
“I said that out loud?”
“Your face is pretty easy to read.”
Crap. Yeah. She really had to work on that. It was embarrassing how easily people could see what she was thinking.
She slid off his lap onto her knees with a thunk.
“Easy, girl.”
“I’m all right. The carpet cushioned my knees. They don’t hurt.”
Total bullshit.
“The carpet is shit. And don’t lie.” He gave her a sharp look which promised some sort of punishment.
