I frown at him. “Kane. You are not speaking to me the fullness of the truth.”
He blinks at me, not quite frowning, nor amused, but something of both. “Can’t get anything past you, can I?” He thinks a moment, then sighs. “Last thing I want is to ever make you think you need to change anything about yourself in order to be sexy to me, Anjalee.”
It is strange to have a meaningful conversation while we are both naked, and while I am so fascinated by the strange yet beautiful organ between his legs, wanting to touch him, knowing I am going to, yet not quite ready to do so.
“Tell me what you are thinking, Kane, please.”
He sighs again. “All right. I’m thinking a little trim might not be a bad thing.”
“Why?”
His grin is that hungry, wolfish thing again. “Makes it nicer for me when I wanna touch you, when I wanna eat you out.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Eat me out?”
“What I did with my mouth, babe.” His eyes go to me, there. “Lots of phrases for it. Eat you out, lick your pussy, go down on you. Technical term for it is cunnilingus. I prefer to call it eatin’ you out.”
I shiver—both at his words and his gaze. “Oh, I see. So you are saying you would more enjoy this eating me out if my pussy were to be trimmed.”
“Yeah, honey, that’s what I’m sayin’.” He squeezes my thigh, indicating he wants my attention on him. “Notsayin’ I won’t like it if you don’t.Notsayin’ you’re anything except totally fuckin’ perfect.”
During our conversation, his…thing…has become less hard. Only a little bit.
I wonder at this. I bite my lower lip, look at his face and then his private thing, and I let my fingers rest at his knee. Then drift up to his thigh. The organ twitches, hardens again. I dare my touch higher, closer. I notice his belly tugs inward a little, like my own does when he is near to touching me. He wants me to, but he is acting cool about it.
I suck in a breath, hold it—and trace my fingertip along the length of him, from the base of it where it meets the hanging part upward, to the tip, where there is a small slit. The skin, at the very tip, is softer than the rest.
“What is it called, please?” I ask.
His jaw is pulsing, one side and then the other. “Lotta words for it, babe.” He closes his eyes, and I see that his hands have turned to fists beneath his head.
“Well, I suppose. But you call mine the pussy.” I touch him again, fingertip traveling from tip to base and back up again. “What doyoucall this?”
“Cock.”
“Cock,” I repeat.
He draws his belly in again. “Fuck, babe. Killin’ me.”
“Why am I killing you, now? I think you say this, that I am killing you, when you enjoy something very much, and wish to shield me from your true reaction.”
“Not wrong.”
“No shielding me, if you please.”
He growls, a rough sigh. “Just…lettin’ you explore, honey.” His eyes follow my hand as I curl my fingers around him, finally clutching it. “Jesus.”
“What?”
“Like your touch, darlin’. A whole fuckin’ lot.”
“It feels good, when I hold you like this?”
He laughs, but it is not an amused sound, more of a snort of disbelief. “Yeah, babe. It feels good.”
I slide my hand down, holding around him. Down to the root of him, where it meets his body, and then back up. It just seems the natural thing to do, holding him and sliding my hand around him, up and then down.
It is a thing of contradictions, his cock. Hard, yet soft. Smooth yet rippled. It has a small range of motion, away from his body a short distance and from side to side. I toy with him, exploring the ways I can touch him, move him.
