Dedication
This story is dedicated to my readers.
Your support means the world to me!
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Armani: GA Modefine S.A. Joint Stock Co.
Bengals: Cincinnati Bengals, Inc.
Coke: The Coca-Cola Co.
Popsicles: Unilever Supply Chain, Inc.
Victoria’s Secret: Victoria’s Secret Stores Brand Management, Inc.
Unwrapped
December 1
Simon’s skilled hand eased beneath the sheet—and then between Emily’s thighs.
She parted them, whispering, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, sugarplum,” he said, his voice both sexy and teasing. He’d called her that ever since they’d met, three years ago, at a mutual friend’s Christmas party.
When they’d said goodbye that first night, he’d told her visions of sugarplums would be dancing in his head, and the pet name had been born. Then again, she’d always thought his Australian accent made everything he said sound sexy.
“Move against my fingers,” he instructed her, the words coming low and throaty.
His touch felt so good, radiating through her in ribbons of heat, but she wasn ’ t moving against his hand, at least not automatically, like she supposed most women would. She never had.
She could scarcely understand it. She adored being close to Simon, yet…sex always embarrassed her to a large degree. She’d never been able to completely let herself go.
Now, she tried to lift her pelvis against his touch.
His fingers stroked deeper and the sensation spread outward, through her rear, her legs, the small of her back. Oh God, it felt so wonderful, beginning to take her over, own her. Yes , oh yes . Touch me , Simon .
“That’s right, my sugarplum girl. Fuck my fingers.”
Emily sucked in her breath as her muscles tightened instinctively.
Oh damn. Why? Why, when he talked like that, did it at once arouse her and yet stop her dead in her tracks? In most other ways, she saw herself as a smart, confident woman, yet sex consistently filled her with conflicting emotions she didn’t know how to fight.
5
Lacey Alexander
She went still—and Simon sighed. “Sorry,” he said, but his tone echoed his frustration. Which, in turn, made her feel guilty and inadequate. A familiar pattern.
She answered his sigh with one of her own. “I’m sorry, too, Simon. I don’t mean to be this way—you know I don’t.”
He peered at her through the darkness—she always made a point of turning out the lights for sex—his handsome face somber in the shadows. “It’s not your fault if I don’t excite you.” Then he rolled to his back in the bed and, despite her qualms, she missed having his hand between her legs.
Her chest had hollowed at his words, so she turned on her side to press her palm to his bare shoulder, instantly needing to assure him. “Simon, it’s not you—it’s me.”
A fact they both knew very well. She’d been a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-three when they’d met. And he’d been so tender and gentle, slowly coaxing her desires free. When they’d finally made love nearly a year after meeting, it had been the sweetest, most profound experience of Emily’s life. And she’d been so thankful to find a man so patient, so caring—caring enough to wait, and caring enough to put up with her inexperience and nervousness.
In short, Simon was amazing.
And she was a letdown.
Now, two years after giving him her virginity, and a year after moving in together, she just wasn’t getting any better at sex. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want it—her body burned for him. It was simply that she’d been raised by very old-fashioned parents who had taught her she had to be a good girl…or else.
She wasn’t sure what came after the “or else”, what would happen if she wasn ’ t a good girl—she’d never deigned to find out. But it was ingrained in her soul-deep, always had been. And even if
This story is dedicated to my readers.
Your support means the world to me!
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Armani: GA Modefine S.A. Joint Stock Co.
Bengals: Cincinnati Bengals, Inc.
Coke: The Coca-Cola Co.
Popsicles: Unilever Supply Chain, Inc.
Victoria’s Secret: Victoria’s Secret Stores Brand Management, Inc.
Unwrapped
December 1
Simon’s skilled hand eased beneath the sheet—and then between Emily’s thighs.
She parted them, whispering, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, sugarplum,” he said, his voice both sexy and teasing. He’d called her that ever since they’d met, three years ago, at a mutual friend’s Christmas party.
When they’d said goodbye that first night, he’d told her visions of sugarplums would be dancing in his head, and the pet name had been born. Then again, she’d always thought his Australian accent made everything he said sound sexy.
“Move against my fingers,” he instructed her, the words coming low and throaty.
His touch felt so good, radiating through her in ribbons of heat, but she wasn ’ t moving against his hand, at least not automatically, like she supposed most women would. She never had.
She could scarcely understand it. She adored being close to Simon, yet…sex always embarrassed her to a large degree. She’d never been able to completely let herself go.
Now, she tried to lift her pelvis against his touch.
His fingers stroked deeper and the sensation spread outward, through her rear, her legs, the small of her back. Oh God, it felt so wonderful, beginning to take her over, own her. Yes , oh yes . Touch me , Simon .
“That’s right, my sugarplum girl. Fuck my fingers.”
Emily sucked in her breath as her muscles tightened instinctively.
Oh damn. Why? Why, when he talked like that, did it at once arouse her and yet stop her dead in her tracks? In most other ways, she saw herself as a smart, confident woman, yet sex consistently filled her with conflicting emotions she didn’t know how to fight.
5
Lacey Alexander
She went still—and Simon sighed. “Sorry,” he said, but his tone echoed his frustration. Which, in turn, made her feel guilty and inadequate. A familiar pattern.
She answered his sigh with one of her own. “I’m sorry, too, Simon. I don’t mean to be this way—you know I don’t.”
He peered at her through the darkness—she always made a point of turning out the lights for sex—his handsome face somber in the shadows. “It’s not your fault if I don’t excite you.” Then he rolled to his back in the bed and, despite her qualms, she missed having his hand between her legs.
Her chest had hollowed at his words, so she turned on her side to press her palm to his bare shoulder, instantly needing to assure him. “Simon, it’s not you—it’s me.”
A fact they both knew very well. She’d been a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-three when they’d met. And he’d been so tender and gentle, slowly coaxing her desires free. When they’d finally made love nearly a year after meeting, it had been the sweetest, most profound experience of Emily’s life. And she’d been so thankful to find a man so patient, so caring—caring enough to wait, and caring enough to put up with her inexperience and nervousness.
In short, Simon was amazing.
And she was a letdown.
Now, two years after giving him her virginity, and a year after moving in together, she just wasn’t getting any better at sex. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want it—her body burned for him. It was simply that she’d been raised by very old-fashioned parents who had taught her she had to be a good girl…or else.
She wasn’t sure what came after the “or else”, what would happen if she wasn ’ t a good girl—she’d never deigned to find out. But it was ingrained in her soul-deep, always had been. And even if
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