Chapter 27 – Rhiannon
My eyes widen and I scramble to remind myself: this is supposed to be a professional appointment. He technically paid for this session with me.
Yes, I’m only here because he was jealous of my non-date with Rebel, but I can keep things professional.
I can keep this professional... right?
But then I look at him. Cain, lounging on his never-used, white couch in a light gray three-piece suit with the sleeves rolled up revealing his veiny, tattooed forearm.
He’s not tatted like Rebel is, but the few that he does have I love. Intricate designs, a set of scales, and words in another language that I don’t understand but have been wanting to ask about.
It’s an act of rebellion, a sign that he cares about more than his career, even if he doesn’t show that side of him to the world. Or maybe that’s just what I’m hoping.
The first few buttons of his dress shirt are undone, teasing just enough dark chest hair to make my thoughts derail into anything but professional.
His green eyes are warmer, casual, and it’d be a lie if I said I wasn’t turned on by the fact that he scheduled this appointment with me just because he wanted to spend time with me, even if that means he lied.
Get it together, Rhiannon.
You’ve seen what he looks like before. This isn’t new. You can keep the tension under control.
Except... maybe that’s the problem. The tension feels unbearable because I know what’s underneath that expensive suit, and now, I know the kind of man he is.
It’s not just because of how he looks, it’s the unspoken questions simmering between us.
It’s his comments earlier. That things are different now.
That we aren’t just strangers who’ve hooked up a couple times.
That we’ve somehow, accidentally become more.
Is he right? Should I give this thing that’s burning between us a chance?
And why am I even entertaining this little exercise that he’s baiting me into instead of shutting this down before it goes any further?
Because the truth is that I like him too and I’m tired of running from that truth.
The memories from the nights that we’ve spent together flash through my mind like a bolt of heat. Cain has never had any trouble getting me exactly where I need him and making sure I come each time. So, hearing him of all people ask me for pointers? It’s almost laughable.
But I’m a researcher, I have dreams of going back to school for my PhD in Psychology and I’ve never been one to pass up on an opportunity to collect some data. Plus, of all the men that I’ve been with, none of them have ever asked for feedback on what they’re doing.
Hell, outside of my work as a therapist, no one has ever asked me that question. It might be nice to talk someone through it. Coach them on how they can improve their game.
The smirk that’s tugging at the corner of his lips tells me he’s enjoying this, and maybe I am too. This song and dance. Another game that we’re playing to skirt around the truth. It’s not two lies and a truth, but it could be just as fun.
I clear my throat, forcing a smile while my heart pounds wildly in my chest. I always wondered if I’d find a guy who could meet me where I’m at. Who could meet my level of wild and banter. Who didn’t see my work as a sex therapist as a turn-off, but a turn-on.
Turns out Cain Prescott may be that person.
“What would you like to know?”
Cain rises to his feet, shrugging off his suit jacket with too much sexual energy that makes the room feel ten degrees hotter. His crisp white shirt clings to his broad chest, and those undone buttons draw my eyes to his broad chest.
He tugs the hem from his waistband, leaving it untucked but still on, then sinks back onto the couch beside me.
“What is it that a woman really wants to hear,” he says, his voice deep, “when a man’s face is between her legs?”
His proximity is dizzying. Minty breath brushes my cheek, and I can’t seem to look anywhere but in his hazy, green eyes with dark pupils blown wide.
I clear my throat again, preparing myself to keep this as professional as possible.
“Women, and men, for that matter, ultimately want the same thing from oral sex,” I say, keeping my tone clinical and detached. “Pleasure. They don’t want to feel rushed to finish, and they want the sense that the person giving genuinely enjoys what they’re doing.”
Cain tilts his head, nodding as though I’ve just delivered a lecture worthy of a standing ovation. His gaze burns into mine, and I know without any doubt that he’s no stranger to the art of enjoying giving pleasure. I’ve experienced it firsthand. And right now, I want to experience it again.
Badly.
“Tell me, what exactly would a man need to do to bring a woman to orgasm and show her that he’s enjoying it? To me, it isn’t that difficult to see the beauty of a woman’s pussy. I like how it looks. I like how it smells. And I love the way it tastes.”
Why is him saying pussy such a turn on?
“Well, there’s more to it than just sticking your tongue in the hole and licking back and forth.”
He raises a brow. “Is that how they taught you to talk during sex therapy school?”
I laugh and take a sip of my drink. “It’s a specialty, not a degree.
But no, you’re right. Let me back up. The labia majora are the lips that encase the vulva.
When turned on, they become engorged with blood.
It’s erectile tissue just like the penis is.
The labia minora, is the inner most part of the vulva and includes the clitoral hood.
When aroused, they can also become engorged with blood, and they protect the clitoris from becoming overstimulated. ”
“Okay…” he smiles, and I can tell he’s enjoying this.
“I’m sharing this because the clitoris has over ten thousand nerve glands in its pea sized shape.
Most men, only focus on that portion of the female’s anatomy, when really, they should be focusing on the entire female sexual center.
You can massage, caress and kiss all the areas I mentioned to bring a female to pleasure.
” You can nip, bite, suck and mark those parts too, as you’re aware.
“During our nights spent together, had I only focused on one area of the female pleasure center?” He scoots closer, until his knee is bumping against mine.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he hadn’t. Cain marked me. Physically in places, and in other ways that can’t be labeled or identified. Mentally. Emotionally. Deep in places that don’t operate on logic or reason.
The more that I learn about human connection, sex, love, and the strange alchemy that happens between two people with undeniable chemistry, the more I’m convinced there are levels of intimacy that live outside the body altogether.
And Cain has touched every single one of those spots.
He hit every nerve, every inch, even the parts of me that don’t technically exist in the present.
And God help me; I want him to do it again.
“I can’t remember,” I whisper.
“Would you like me to remind you?” he asks.
“For research, and practice, of course. It’d be good if I had a sex therapist walk me through things hands on.
I know it’s not something you’d normally do, but I want to be sure I’m not making any mistakes.
Leaving any opportunities for pleasure on the table. ”
I’m sure this is a bad idea. I’m sure Leo would tell me that I’m leading him on when I know I can’t be what he needs. I know doing this with a client is unethical, especially while on the clock.
But none of those things stop me. I allow him to undress me anyway.
His hands move to the silk belt on my sweater dress, smooth and controlled.
I watch as he undoes it. Then, to my shoulders, where he carefully presses the fabric down and pushes it past my arms, breasts and over my waist, guiding my hips to lift until I reveal the black, all lace bra that I’d put on when I thought I was still trying to be stylish for Rebel tonight.
A growl rattles through his chest as he takes me in before lowering his lips to my shoulder and planting a gentle kiss there.
It’s such a simple movement, but the action sends heat flooding through every inch of my skin and between my legs. Sometimes, the most simple, tender touches are more heated than the forceful ones.
“Did you wear this for him?” he asks.
It was never about impressing Rebel in a sexual way; it was always about the work. About the money. About what the opportunity could do for my family.
Every decision I’ve made for the past eight years has been governed by that same, fierce loyalty. Everything I’ve done is for them.
This, tonight, is for me.
“It wasn’t for him to see.”
His hands gently guide me to lay back on the couch.
“Good.”
His clothing is still on as he kneels between my legs, gazing up at my body.
“What about touching while underwear is still on?” he asks as his fingers brush against my covered pussy. The mere graze of his fingers sends a jolt of electricity through my already wired body as I squirm.
“Some women… may like that,” I whisper, my eyes never leaving his.
He smirks knowingly and then reaches up to the straps of my panties and pulls them off.
“So, the vulva…” his voice trails off as he looks between my legs with admiration, his face just a few inches away from my pussy now. “It likes to be massaged and caressed. Kissed and touched?” he asks. He cups my pussy with his large hands and rubs it.
“Yes…” I clear my throat, “that brings blood to the tissues and um… enlarges it.”
Damn. I love his hands.
He nods, still watching between my legs and then gently uses his fingers to part my lips.
“Do…some women…like this?” he asks as his face dips down, licking me with his flattened tongue from one end of my opening to the other.
“Yes…some women would like that gentle pressure.”
He begins to kiss all around my vulva, filling my body with heat as I feel the blood rush to my sexual organs. Which makes sense, considering I know I’m not using my brain right now.
What’s it that they say about men? They think with their dicks.
Well, I’m thinking with my clit right now. And the way that Cain’s dragging his tongue across it, alternating between firm, slow pressure and light flicks, has me almost thoughtless.
“And then… what next?” he asks.
His mouth is all over my pussy now, his movements less focused and sloppier. The prickle of his beard brushes back and forth against my inner thighs and across my clit. He dips his tongue into my opening then gently draws my clit between his lips and sucks down.
“Maybe add a finger,” I say breathlessly as he slips one inside, pumping languidly.
“How about two?” It’s more of a groan from him, and I can tell his resolve is slipping as fast as mine is.
“Two is fine,” I respond in a pant.
Another finger goes in as he picks up his pace, continuing to alternate between sucks, flicks and licks across my pussy. I can feel my orgasm starting to build, my toes curl into the couch cushion right when he draws back.
“And how would you feel about a finger in here?” He presses his thumb gently against my rim, not breaking the seal, but teasing it with gentle brushes of the pad of his tip. His lips are kissing across my vulva now, waiting for permission.
I know what he’s asking, but I’ve never had both holes filled at one time and even though I’m a sex therapist and consider myself very open-minded, I’ve just never been ready to try unless you count that wild night in Hartford when I’d said yes but we hadn’t had any lube.
But this is for research, and what’s experimentation without trying something new?
“I think that would feel good.”
He lifts his face slightly, smiles and then dips a third finger inside of my pussy to get it wet before pulling it out and pressing in my other hole just down to the first knuckle.
My body clenches around him instantly.
“Relax,” he whispers. “I’ll take it slow. I want you to feel every bit of it. I want you to feel full. And someday, you’ll be ready for me to put my cock in there.”
I try my best to relax into him as he gently moves his fingers out a little and then back in, finding a new rhythm that I realize I love.
My legs stretch; toes curl into the fabric of his couch as I settle into it.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, returning his mouth to my clit to suck.
He picks up speed and I’m back where I was only minutes before, teetering on the edge of an orgasm that I know is going to wreck me. Physically, emotionally, and mentally.
The tightness builds in my pelvis, more heat spreads through my limbs down to my toes. My pelvis clenches, clit pulses, and then it’s barreling on top of me.
“Cain…” I hiss, my insides bare down hard as the orgasm takes over me and I sink deeper into the couch and into my mind.
I’m so blissed out that I don’t realize until I open my eyes that Cain has carried me into his bed and is now undressing himself.
It’s pitch dark in his room, but the glow from the city lights bouncing off the snow highlights his towering frame. We’ve never hooked up in here, though I’ve cleaned it plenty of times, and it looks exactly the same as always: cold, clinical, untouched.
But with both of us in here now, it feels different, somehow warmer and charged with the chemistry sparking between us.
His voice is raspy, labored and hardly restrained when he speaks.
“You have no idea how hard I am for you. Listening to you talk about sex and intimacy…”
I wet my lips and lean up on my elbows to watch him. Strong, boxy abs. Messy, light brown hair. Green eyes with pupils so dilated it looks like they’re black.
“Tell me, Rhiannon. Are you up for providing me with some pointers on missionary?”