“I can’t believe this!” I took a few paces forward, then turned around and retraced my steps, shock and confusion mingling in me with something else I couldn't deny. I felt intrigued, aroused, and as much as I should've run from the room and quit on the spot, I stayed and asked, “What do you mean?”
“I'm flexible as to how you cum. I could make you cum. You could make yourself cum while I watch. Both would work for me.”
I flexed my hands up in the air, brought them down to my hair, settled them at my hips. I didn't know what to do with myself. “This is so wrong in so many ways.”
He gave me a devilish grin. “Doesn't that make it even more hot?”
“You’re insane.”
“You’re intrigued.”
“I'm going up to bed,” I declared, feeling very much as if I needed some distance. Had the fire leapt out of the fireplace? I was burning up.
“Enjoy thinking it over while you’re in bed.” He sounded so confident, as if this were all going according to plan, as if he was so sure he’d be on my mind. I huffed and I puffed as I started for the door.
“Just remember,” he continued. “If you make yourself cum tonight, it'll be much more intense with me.”
Of all the nerve. I stormed up the stairs and stomped into my bedroom. My poor toothbrush, I abused it, shoving it under the water, covering it with too much toothpaste, roughing it up around my teeth before I threw it to the sink basin.
I should leave. I should jump into my car and drive off. Though, of course, I didn't have a car. And it was dark, in the middle of the night. I had no choice but to climb into bed, staying and stewing over what he'd said to me.
People didn't say things like that to each other. It was ridiculous. Who did he think I was? I'd never felt so shocked and insulted.
And turned on. My skin burned. Twisting beneath the sheets, I kept picturing his face, handsome in the firelight, his eyes dark with promise. The feel of his powerful shoulder, the bulk of muscle underneath my fingers.
How arrogant of him to assume that no man had made me cum before! Even if he was right. And Ian could make me cum. I knew he could. He lit my whole body on fire with just a kiss. What would it feel like to have him do more, have him touch me and bring me pleasure like no one else ever had?
I tossed in my bed, punching my pillow, trying to get comfortable. What was I doing, even letting myself wonder about how it would feel to open myself up to him like that? There was no way I could say yes, and it wasn’t just because his proposal offended my prim sense of propriety.
The real reason I had to say no was because to him it would just be a game. For me? The second he made me cum my eyes would pop into hearts, rainbows and moonbeams filling my brain as I swooned and fell deeply in love. I was already halfway there and all we’d done was kiss.
I felt too agitated, too worked up, and I couldn’t resist any more. I snuck my hand down between my thighs. Under my panties, my eyes closed as I slipped in my fingers and discovered how wet I was. I felt so slick and warm on my fingertips as I stroked. I'd been wet all night. Even though Ian’s words had offended my mind, they'd inflamed my body.
Sighing in surrender, I did exactly as he told me. I worked myself in a rhythm, parting my legs, imagining letting him touch me like that, his fingers right where mine were, stroking, giving me exactly what I needed. He’d be strong and sure, feasting on my responses, coaxing out so much pleasure until I shuddered and trembled in his arms. I bit back my cry of release, panting in the dark, not wanting to get caught.
Because I had a secret. While I might have managed to say no to his proposal, deep within, my answer was yes. Putting myself in his capable hands to do as he pleased was exactly what I wanted.