Page 72 of Hold the Pickle
I continue to stroke her gently, taking my time learning these intimate parts of her. There’s a softness to her inner thighs, then a firmness to her skin around her pelvic bones. She’s not bare, a small thatch of hair at the crest of her labia.
I smile at my technical terms.
Nadia bumps my arm. “What’s funny?”
“I might be examining you and using the correct anatomical language in my head.”
She thumps me again. “Like what?”
“Labia majora.” I rub my thumb along it, then slip closer to the center. “Labia minora.”
She laughs and nudges me again. “Just call it my pussy.”
I peer into the dark corner where I assume the cats are. “But we have so much of that.”
This gets me a good whack on the shoulder.
I lean into her ear. “What do your books call it?”
I feel her smile against my cheek. “Hmm. Her sex. Her core. Her essence.”
“That’s all wrong. Sex should meanfemalein this case, core is abdominals, and essence, I don’t know, your perfume.”
This makes her laugh. “Better than calling it my hot pocket.”
“Oooh, I like that.”
“My hot pocket.”
I grip it more tightly. “It’s a hot little pocket.”
“Are you going to put something in it?”
I suck in a breath. “Hell, yes, I am.”
23
NADIA
Inever talk dirty.
I’m not sure why I’m doing it. Maybe because the irresistible doctor who’s been sleeping under the same roof as me is finally acting on all the things we’ve both been clearly thinking about.
Or possibly it’s because he knows the books I read, something I’ve never let anyone see. And it’s an undercurrent between us, those soft sex scenes, the act out in the open, nothing to hide, consensual, hot, and in great detail.
Dalton makes it feel like it’s all coming to life.
He pushes my shirt up and over my head. Funny how I got all the way to orgasm without removing any clothes.
Then his mouth is on my belly, grasping the elastic of my shorts with his teeth. He tries to pull them off that way, but I have too much hip, and we both laugh as he wrestles them down.
His fingers slip beneath the lacy edge of my panties. He’s already been all these places, but as he eases them over my thighs, his breath caressing my skin, it’s still so new.
I’ve been here with other men, but Dalton is so attentive, like I’m something precious to behold.
He kisses random places. My ankle. My knee. The jutting bone of my hip. Then he’s back at my mouth. Somewhere along the way, he shed his own clothes. The feel of our full bodies against each other is so intimate, so beautiful, that for a second, tears sting my eyes.
How did we get to this place? I feel like I know him so well, what he wears, how he eats, his routines. But I’ve never known this, the warmth of his skin, the strength of his arms, the smoothness of his chest against mine.
