head. She ran her fingers gingerly over the tip, wiping away the thick dot of moisture there—and listened to Simon’s throaty plea waft over her. “Suck me, baby. Suck my cock.”
8
Unwrapped
Inside her, just like before, everything tightened. Simon was rubbing her bottom now as she bent over him from the side, the sensation radiating inward, but her age-old enemies were setting in. Nervousness. Awkwardness. Fear.
She let out a sigh. She wanted to take him in her mouth—but she couldn’t, just couldn’t, for reasons that ran too deep for her to understand.
Oh God . Why am I like this ? Why can ’ t I be a good lover ?
She found herself backing away then, her whole body stiffening, until she lay beside him, wishing she were anywhere else besides in bed with a man whose desires she couldn’t fulfill.
“I’m so sorry, Simon,” she whispered. “Forgive me.”
“Of course,” he said, voice quiet, strained.
He ’ s lying . He doesn ’ t forgive me .
“I want you,” she said.
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“I do. I swear.” It was true. Unbelievable to him, probably, but so true.
“Please,” she said, rolling to touch his chest again. “Please—I want you inside me. I love you so much.”
Simon looked at her in the shadows, but she couldn’t read his expression. A certain darkness lingered there. Heated desire? Or disgust with her flip-flopping routine?
Either way, he rolled over onto her, situating himself between her parted legs. He kissed her neck, and as always when he did that, passion fluttered inside her once more. She did want him, she truly did. And as he pushed his way into her body, filling her, she groaned with the wonderful intrusion, reaching to meet his lush mouth with her own.
Things were different—so much more effortless—when he was on top of her, when he asked nothing of her, expected nothing. Maybe it just meant she was a selfish lover, she didn’t know. But now that he was inside, she felt his renewed heat and saw it 9
Lacey Alexander
burning in his eyes. Now that he was inside, he was hot for her again, and she was hot for him , and the world was suddenly perfect.
“I love you, baby,” she whispered.
“I love you, too. I want to make you come.”
Could any man be better than Simon? All this, and still he cared about her pleasure.
More than she did, possibly, because…well, she didn’t always climax, not even when he touched her there. His touch was scintillating, but she knew she thought too much, let her nervousness get in the way.
As was their routine—the only one she’d ever really allowed them to fall into—
Simon eased back, still inside her but upright, onto his knees. Using his thumb, he found her clitoris and began to stroke. “Want to make you feel so good, my sugarplum girl,” he murmured over her deeply, sweetly. “So, so good.”
His soothing voice combined with the darkness to help her slip away to somewhere else completely. In her fantasy, Simon held her down, gave her no choice, made her feel the pleasure. They were in a different time, a different world, where it was okay for her to feel dirty, to feel the slick way his thumbs stroked through her wetness even as his cock slid just as slick into her opening, to relish the hot pressure that rose in her, the fullness, the pleasure, the— oh God ! “Unh!”
Despite herself, she cried out as the orgasm broke over her quickly, heard her own high sobs as the pulses pounded through her body, until finally she was dropped back in the bed, back to here, back to now—torn between that weird sense of guilt and the joy of having let go, even if just for a moment.
“So sweet, baby,” he purred over her, then kissed her, once, twice, his tongue mingling with hers—but then, short seconds later, he began pounding into her, hard, harder.
Yes , oh yes ! She loved his power, loved the way his thrusts echoed through her whole being. Now that her climax had passed and she’d come back to
8
Unwrapped
Inside her, just like before, everything tightened. Simon was rubbing her bottom now as she bent over him from the side, the sensation radiating inward, but her age-old enemies were setting in. Nervousness. Awkwardness. Fear.
She let out a sigh. She wanted to take him in her mouth—but she couldn’t, just couldn’t, for reasons that ran too deep for her to understand.
Oh God . Why am I like this ? Why can ’ t I be a good lover ?
She found herself backing away then, her whole body stiffening, until she lay beside him, wishing she were anywhere else besides in bed with a man whose desires she couldn’t fulfill.
“I’m so sorry, Simon,” she whispered. “Forgive me.”
“Of course,” he said, voice quiet, strained.
He ’ s lying . He doesn ’ t forgive me .
“I want you,” she said.
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“I do. I swear.” It was true. Unbelievable to him, probably, but so true.
“Please,” she said, rolling to touch his chest again. “Please—I want you inside me. I love you so much.”
Simon looked at her in the shadows, but she couldn’t read his expression. A certain darkness lingered there. Heated desire? Or disgust with her flip-flopping routine?
Either way, he rolled over onto her, situating himself between her parted legs. He kissed her neck, and as always when he did that, passion fluttered inside her once more. She did want him, she truly did. And as he pushed his way into her body, filling her, she groaned with the wonderful intrusion, reaching to meet his lush mouth with her own.
Things were different—so much more effortless—when he was on top of her, when he asked nothing of her, expected nothing. Maybe it just meant she was a selfish lover, she didn’t know. But now that he was inside, she felt his renewed heat and saw it 9
Lacey Alexander
burning in his eyes. Now that he was inside, he was hot for her again, and she was hot for him , and the world was suddenly perfect.
“I love you, baby,” she whispered.
“I love you, too. I want to make you come.”
Could any man be better than Simon? All this, and still he cared about her pleasure.
More than she did, possibly, because…well, she didn’t always climax, not even when he touched her there. His touch was scintillating, but she knew she thought too much, let her nervousness get in the way.
As was their routine—the only one she’d ever really allowed them to fall into—
Simon eased back, still inside her but upright, onto his knees. Using his thumb, he found her clitoris and began to stroke. “Want to make you feel so good, my sugarplum girl,” he murmured over her deeply, sweetly. “So, so good.”
His soothing voice combined with the darkness to help her slip away to somewhere else completely. In her fantasy, Simon held her down, gave her no choice, made her feel the pleasure. They were in a different time, a different world, where it was okay for her to feel dirty, to feel the slick way his thumbs stroked through her wetness even as his cock slid just as slick into her opening, to relish the hot pressure that rose in her, the fullness, the pleasure, the— oh God ! “Unh!”
Despite herself, she cried out as the orgasm broke over her quickly, heard her own high sobs as the pulses pounded through her body, until finally she was dropped back in the bed, back to here, back to now—torn between that weird sense of guilt and the joy of having let go, even if just for a moment.
“So sweet, baby,” he purred over her, then kissed her, once, twice, his tongue mingling with hers—but then, short seconds later, he began pounding into her, hard, harder.
Yes , oh yes ! She loved his power, loved the way his thrusts echoed through her whole being. Now that her climax had passed and she’d come back to
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