When his hands land on the insides of my thighs and he spreads them wider, I close my eyes, but he’s not having it.
“Open your eyes,” he orders, and I pop them open. “I want you to watch as I make you come.”
Oh. My. God.
With my voice caught in my throat, I nod quickly.
“The key to getting yourself off is to let go of everything else around you,” Ethan says as he spreads my folds.
“You can’t overthink it,” he explains. His finger slowly enters me, and he smirks when he feels how wet I am. “Fuck, you’re drenched.” He adds another finger and pushes them in and out of me a few times. It feels so good. My mind goes to the conversation with my mom when I was younger and asked her about sex. She told me it wasn’t about pleasure, but about creating a new life… about—
“Angel,” Ethan says, shaking me from my thoughts. “Stay with me. Focus on nothing but what I’m doing to you. It’s only you and me…”
He pulls his soaked fingers out of me and brings them to his mouth. He sticks them between his lips and sucks, and I almost freaking lose it. “Want a taste?” he offers.
Without thought, I find myself nodding. He chuckles softly then leans over and presses his fingers to my lips. I open, and he inserts them into my mouth. They taste tangy, and I must make a face indicating that because he laughs.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought it would be sweet. All my romance books always say that.”
“So fucking innocent,” he murmurs, stepping closer and kissing me. “It tastes perfect.”
He pulls back, and I instantly miss his mouth on mine, but before I can complain and beg him to kiss me some more, I’m distracted by his finger, which is rubbing against my clit.
“Feel that?” he asks. “Your clit is swollen and sensitive.”
“Yes,” I breathe. I feel it from my head all the way to the tips of my toes. How such a small part of my body can elicit such pleasure astounds me, but I’m not about to question it.
Ethan continues to massage my clit with his pointer and middle finger. Every now and then he stops and dips them into my center to gather more of my juices, using it to create friction against my clit. I watch in awe and fascination as he works me over, bringing me higher and higher. I refuse to think about anything but what he’s doing to me. I can feel the impending orgasm drawing near, and then with a flick of his fingers, I detonate. My eyes close of their own accord, and those infamous fireworks I’ve been longing to see, appear—bright and colorful. My entire body shakes as I let myself go and enjoy my orgasm.
When I finally come down, I open my eyes and find Ethan staring at me. My cheeks and neck heat, now that my brain is no longer clouded by my orgasm, and Ethan grins.
“I could watch you come like that every damn day.”
Before I can respond—not that I have any clue what to say to that—he tells me he’ll be right back. He disappears through a door in the corner and a minute later returns with a wet paper towel. Opening my legs, he swipes up my center. My heart speeds up at the sweet, intimate gesture.
After tossing the paper towel into the waste basket, he grabs my panties and jeans and puts them back on me. I consider telling him I can get dressed myself, but I’m too fascinated watching him to say a word.
After slipping my boots back on my feet, he takes my hand in his and tugs me up until our faces are only inches apart. “Finding your release is part physical and part mental. The next time you try it yourself, let it all go. Like you just did.”
“I think I’ll just leave it to you.” I shrug a shoulder. “You’re obviously the expert.”
Ethan throws his head back with a laugh and then helps me off the table. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To play some Blackjack.”
When I frown, he stops walking. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to learn.” His words momentarily distract me. I never told him I wanted to learn to play Blackjack. I said I wanted to see a casino, but I never actually mentioned wanting to learn how to play.
Oh no! Has he seen my list? When would he have even seen it?
And then I remember my other list… It was in my underwear drawer… and he grabbed my underwear.
I don’t know why, after everything we’ve done, the thought of him seeing my list feels too intimate, but it does. It feels as though he’s cracked open my ribcage and grabbed ahold of my heart.
“Have you seen my list?” I blurt out.