“Good.” I grin, cupping her tight, round little butt in both hands. “Now what?”
She searches my face, and I can see her thinking, see the desire warring with nerves. Desire wins.
Her fingertips trail against my skin, around from my butt to my abdomen. Pauses there, fingertips against my belly. Watching me. Waiting for me to tell her to stop? I don’t know. Whatever she’s looking for, she won’t find—unless it’s my barely restrained need. That, she’ll find in spades, if she were to go looking.
When her fingers go to the button of my jeans, I’m kind of surprised at her forwardness—this is faster than I’d have thought she’d want to go. I just hold her gaze evenly, steadily, tacitly giving her the go-ahead.
She frees the button. Tugs the zipper down. She’s holding her breath one moment, and then sucking in deep shuddering breaths the next. My jeans sag open. She hooks her fingers in a pair of belt loops and tugs down—I step on a cuff and yank my leg free, then the other, kick them aside. My black briefs do little to hide the evidence of my arousal.
Her eyes, obviously, go there. Widen dramatically. Her breathing stops. “Um. Wow. Okay. Um—wow.”
“Your speechlessness is flattering,” I whisper. “And also? I hope it tells you what my words can’t about how I feel about you—that I really am attracted to you.”
She lets out a shuddery breath, and her head tips back, eyes blinking rapidly. “Wes, god…”
“What? What is it?” I’m worried instantly that I let things go too far too fast.
She shakes her head. Her hands press against my chest—not pushing, but bracing. “Just…overwhelmed.” She puts her hand over my mouth, silencing me. “I know, I know.”
I wait.
She swallows hard. “Can we—could we—” she meets my eyes again. “I think I need to…stop…now.” She frowns. “I’m sorry.”
I take her hands in one of mine. Cup her cheek. “No, don’t—donotapologize. Not for anything. Certainly not for telling me you want to slow down.”
“I just…I know you’re—and I was…and we were—” she breaks off with a self-conscious laugh. “Let me try that again.”
I touch her lips with a finger, pull backward away from her, and sit on the bed. “This happens atyourpace, Jo. Don’t even think about me, or what you think I want.” I kiss her cheek, the corner of her lips. “What I want is to help you feel good. I want to help you learn what you want and what you like. And that’s the real truth.”
She shakes her head, following me to the bed, standing with her thighs pressed against my knees. “Wes, I—I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work. I know I’ve never had a boyfriend before, but…I guess I feel like I’msupposedto think about you. About what you want. What you’re feeling. That’s how a relationship works, right? Each of us thinks about the other, tries to make the other person happy? I want…Iwantto think about you, and how the things we do affect you. Because I care about that. So, what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry for leading you on, or…or getting you worked up and then stopping. That’s what I mean to say.”
I reach up and grasp her hips. “You didn’t lead me on.”
Her eyes flick down to my groin, to the obvious protrusion there; to say I’m tenting the front of my underwear would be an egregious understatement. “Is that…does it…hurt? Like, is it uncomfortable?” She plucks at her lower lip with her teeth, seeming unable to pull her gaze away. “I mean, when it’s…um, big like that. How—how does it feel?”
I let out a breath, considering my answer. “It doesn’t hurt, no. It can be uncomfortable, sometimes, especially if it’s not, uhhh, straight, in my underwear. Like if it’s folded over or bent.”
Like it is right now; problem is, if I were to straighten it, I would for sure stick out the top of the waistband of my underwear. And I’m just not sure if she’s ready for that.
“As for how it feels?” I shrug. “I mean, how do you describe something like that? How would you describe being aroused?”
“Are you asking me?”
I nod. “Yeah, sure.”
She rolls a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can say with a hundred percent certainty that I know what It means to be…aroused.” She whispers that last word.
I can’t help a naughty grin. “Well, that’s not good at all.” I stand up. “You donothave to answer this, but I admit I’m insanely curious. Have you ever given yourself an orgasm?”
Her cheeks flame red. “Um.” She ducks her head. Gives a small, shy, almost miserably embarrassed shrug. “No?”
“You don’t sound sure, Jo.” I collide into her personal space, hands wrapped low around her hips. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You can tell me the truth,” I whisper. “Everyone does it, Jo. It’s natural, it’s normal. Masturbation isgoodfor you.”
She groans, covers her face with her hands. “Yes!” she hisses, barely audible. “I have. At least, I—I touched myself. Down there. It…it felt so…weird. So intense.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Don’t make me tell.”
