He throws his head back and laughs, looking delighted, then looks down at me with the smuggest expression I've ever seen on a human face. "Wow, you really planned on fucking me when you came over tonight, huh? Damn, you must have been lusting after me this whole time."
I kick his shin hard enough to make a point and he laughs, catching my ankle again and kissing the inside of my knee.
"If you keep sassing off to me you're not going to get to useit. And I am a woman who knows what she wants, so shut up and get it."
"Thank god for that," he says, and reaches to the floor where my cardigan was tossed earlier. He digs through the pocket and pulls out my rose toy, small and pink and shaped like a rose bud, and turns it over in his hand, examining.
"Need instructions?" I smirk, propping myself up on my elbows to watch him.
He presses the button and it buzzes to life in his hand, the petals vibrating. He looks at me, eyes dark and hungry. "I think I get the gist. But you're going to tell me if I'm doing it wrong."
He turns back toward his jeans on the floor, stopping at the pocket and pulling out his wallet, fishing for a condom.
"You don't have to use that," I say, blinking up at him from the bed.
He swallows hard.Hah. Got him.
"See," I continue casually, "I'm on birth control and as long as you're clean, we could have a little fun without it."
He swallows again, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You're sure?"
I nod. "Yes, but are you clean? Because so help me god, Alex, you better be."
He laughs, setting the condom aside on the nightstand. "I am clean. See, I get tested regularly. Last time was two months ago, clean bill of health, and there's been no one since then."
I nod approvingly. "Good.” And I reach up and pull him back down on top of me by his shoulders, kissing him hard, my legs wrapping around his waist.
We shift on the bed until he's hovering over me, propped on one elbow, and his other hand flicks the rose toy on. The buzzing fills the room and my stomach flips with anticipation and nerves I refuse to acknowledge.
He slides it down my body slowly, dragging it between my breasts, over my stomach, making me squirm. When he finally presses it against my clit, I gasp loudly.
"Oh!" I cry out, my hands flying up to grip his shoulders, nails digging in. I involuntarily buck my hips up and some small part of my brain, that distant part of me that had been wanting this probably since I first saw him walk into Solstice's kitchen, that voice in my head that's been rooting for some genuinely good sex, is absolutely thrilled right now.
He experiments with the rose toy, moving it in slow circles around my clit, adjusting the pressure, watching my face the whole time with a small smile that's equal parts smug and fascinated.
"So this is how you've been relieving your stress after all those long days?" he asks, leaning down to kiss my neck, his voice vibrating against my throat. "In your cottage, all alone, using this on yourself?"
"If you must know, I—oh!—um, yes, I find it to be very helpful when unwinding to have a good masturbation session with—yes! Yes right there!" I dissolve into the pleasure as he presses it harder against my clit, finding exactly the right spot, his other hand gripping my hip and holding me down as he leans over me and kisses me deeply, swallowing my moans.
To be fair, he really didn't need instructions on how to use it. He's reading my body perfectly, adjusting to every gasp and moan.
He pulls back from the kiss and leans down, biting my earlobe gently before whispering, "Well, I could have helped you with that, you know. I would have beenveryhappy to. All you had to do was knock on my door."
I laugh breathlessly, the sound breaking into a moan as he increases the pressure. "Wouldn't you have liked that."
"Believe me," he says, looking down at me, his eyes so dark they're almost black, "I really would have. I've been thinking about this for weeks."
Then he pulls back suddenly, sitting up and taking the toywith him. I make a sound of protest that's embarrassingly desperate.
He's kneeling between my legs now, looking down at me, and I feel vulnerable like this, completely laid out in front of him. I can hardly stop my mouth from watering at the sight of him—his cock hard and thick, curving slightly up toward his stomach. His muscles are defined, skin tanned from the California sun. He's beautiful and I hate how much I notice it.
He hands me the rose toy, still buzzing in his palm.
"I want to watch you," he says simply.
I gulp and slowly take it from him, my fingers brushing his. I bring it down between my legs, pressing the buzzing silicone petals against my clit, and gasp at the sensation. There's something about vulnerability in sex that I've never been comfortable with—it's why I don't like men going down on me, why I usually prefer positions where I have some control—and being spread out in front of Alex like this, using my own toy on myself while he watches, I feel exposed.
But some part of me can't help herself. The way he's looking at me like I'm the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, how turned on I am, how my body is screaming at me to just let go for once.