Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
Like INXS, I need you tonight
LILA
As predicted, the next arousal flare comes less than ten minutes after I did. Fortunately, this round seems to be more tame than the others. I feel more clear-headed too. Maybe it’s finally wearing off.
With my stellar luck, it’ll spike out of control right as Reed returns to the bedroom, and he’ll catch me two knuckles deep.
What word is stronger than mortification? That’s where I’m at presently. I’ll never need makeup for my cheeks again, thanks to the shame-filled blush I’ll have for all eternity.
At least Reed seemed to be into my newfound freaky side. And for bonus points, he didn’t get a good look at me embarrassingly busting out of his clothes.
With that thought, I seize the opportunity to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into partial darkness. There is still a bit of light shining from the bathroom where Reed’s taking a quick shower.
After generously letting me ride his thigh—like the gentleman he is—Reed asked me to join him.
I declined. More shame, naturally. Not because of my body this time.
It’s because I didn’t want to witness him scrubbing his thigh, knowing he was probably disgusted by the vast amount of moisture I deposited there.
He eased my apprehension about that by claiming he felt sticky after the long day. I did detect dried perspiration on him, but I didn’t mind at all. In my revved-up state, he could have spent the day shoveling manure, and I’d probably still have wanted to jump his bones.
Oh, dang. Here we freaking go.
Shouldn’t have thought those words. My hips are doing that thing again. Apparently, even the reference to manure didn’t dull the heavenly visual of Reed eagerly letting me jump his bones.
If Reed comes in and I’m in the throes of another flick fest, I’ll never recover.
Time for some manifestation.
In a whisper, I try to hype myself up. “Cool it, Lila. You’ve got this. You don’t need to orgasm just because your hormones say so. You’re the President and CEO of this body. You call the shots around here. Now, act like it.”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Willfully ignoring my commands, my hips keep on flexing, and my thighs press together.
A touch louder this time, I reassert my dominance. “Lila Kent isn’t a slave to her clit. It’s a tiny part of her, under the control of her conscious mind. Succumbing to the whims of her clit isn’t something she does.”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
No change. And I was so sure that phrasing it in third person would do the trick. I’ll need to be more direct.
“Hips, I command thee to cease movement. Vagina, you are ordered to dry up. Clitoris, shrivel immediately, or I’ll buy that BDSM numbing cream.”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Teaming up with the rest of my defiant body parts, my hand slips down my body after throwing the bird at me.
I’d smack my sneaky hand away with the other one, but the pervert probably likes it rough.
Frustrated, I throw a mini-tantrum, thrashing my head into the pillow and kicking the mattress. “Not again. Not now. No, no. This isn’t fair.”
Why didn’t this happen at my house, where I have a wide array of pleasure pals? Reed won’t bang me unless I’m sober. His moral character shows through at the most inconvenient times. And it’s bordering on cruel tonight.
I admit I’m not in my fully rational mind, but I was gonna have sex with him when he got home regardless. Assuming he still wanted me.
And he does. That erection and his velvety tone proved it. I can still hear the way he ordered me to use his thigh to make myself come.
Gah. That was hot.
I can’t stand the emptiness any longer. If Reed won’t fill me, I’ll do it myself. My fingertips locate my clit again, swirling and teasing it before sinking into my opening. I give it three pumps then retreat.
Ugh. Using my fingers isn’t the same. I don’t know if it’s the angle or my finger length, but it never does it for me. Not even in this hyper-aroused state.
Undirected by my conscious brain, my vision lands on the brush on the bedside table. Reed gave it to me before he got in the shower so I could work through the knots I’d been avoiding thinking about. But now my intrusive thoughts suggest a different purpose.
That’s enough nonsense. No, no, no. I will not get off with Reed’s brush handle. I have standards.
Trying to distract myself, I release some of my whimsy in verbal form. “Hey, ghosts, let me ask you something. Between Uber Eats and DoorDash, which is more likely to deliver a dildo at this late hour? And would there be a kinky surcharge?”
“Again, cookie?”
The ghosts sound like Reed.
My eyes shoot hoot-owl wide, giving me a jaw-dropping vision of him at the foot of the bed. Damp hair and a towel tied around his waist. My vagina starts twitching in Morse code, instructing me to remove his towel and get his dick inside her.
Harlot puss.
I won’t do that because I respect his consent. Under protest.
“Come on, Reed. Must you? Only a towel?” I sit up and spread my arms open, letting the covers fall to my waist. “If you aren’t gonna let me play with your barely concealed weapon, then cover up the rest of yourself. Do you have a Parka or something? Turtleneck sweater?”
During my sexually frustrated rant, his eyes fell to my chest. “Fucking hell,” he growls.
I glance down, noticing that my tummy is visible thanks to how I was handling myself before I sat up. My boobs are stretching his white tee to the max, and my nipples poke through the fabric like I’m smuggling raisins on top of cantaloupes.
I yank down my shirt to cover my midsection with the hand that was preparing to resume diddling duties. Nervously, I peek back at Reed to gauge the level of disgust in his reaction to my unintentional chub flashing.
He stalks around the bed, approaching me as his towel struggles to conceal a growing situation below his waist.
Question answered. It was not disgust. Quite the opposite, actually.
It’s so weird that he finds my rotundness arousing. Is he defective? I thought men wanted model types. Apparently, not all men do.
I point at his crotch. “You got a permit for that weapon?”
Without responding to my hilarious joke, he joins me in bed, crawling closer. His mocha eyes swirl with intensity. “Take it off,” he orders in a tone thick as molasses.
Wait. Was that a sexy order or an angry one? My nose wrinkles, and my upper lip curls slightly. “Huh?”
Reed bends forward, tugging at the bottom of my shirt. His shirt. “Take it off,” he repeats.
“I’m sorry for stretching it out, but it was one of the only options. Is this a special shirt? I didn’t know.”
He finally lifts his gaze from my torso and flays me with his molten chocolate eyes. “Lila, I don’t give a fuck about you stretching out my shirt. Cut it into pieces if you want. What I care about is getting my hands and mouth over what’s under it.”
“Oh. I like where this is going.”
What I don’t like is my sudden craving for a molten lava cake. Damn his delicious eyes.
I don’t put up a fight as he removes the offending garment. Feeling overly exposed under his scrutiny, I lie down and tug the covers up to my neck.
After discarding the shirt over his shoulder, he roughly pulls the sheet off my upper body without asking. Rude.
But also sexy.
“Ah, that’s better.” He lies beside me, propping his head on one hand. His other hand moves toward my chest, pausing before he touches me. His fingers flex, stretching and closing as if he’s about to play the piano. “Can I touch you?”
With all his scrutiny, my shyness flickers back to life. Yet I can’t help but snark at him. “What do you think? I just came all over your thigh. And I’m naked in your bed.”
“Oh, I’m very aware of that. How could I not be? It’s like my wildest dreams have come true.” He starts with tender strokes over my upper stomach. “You have no idea how much I need this tonight.”
Something about how he said that last sentence doesn’t sit right with me. Perhaps it’s the word tonight. It implies that he hasn’t needed me until now, and he won’t need me tomorrow either.
Based on our past, I know how badly that wound can bleed. Even if it wasn’t true the last time, the fallout was my reality. For years, I believed he took what he needed from me when he was grieving, simply because I was convenient.
I can’t let the comment go, despite the distracting way he’s skimming his palms closer to the underside of my breasts. “You need what tonight?”
His heated expression flashes with confusion. “You. Here with me.”
“Why tonight, specifically?”
He doesn’t answer at first, seemingly weighing his response. Languidly, his gaze falls from my face to my chest. He nibbles at his lip and squeezes my right breast tenderly. Even with his large hands, he’s only able to surround the lower half of my double Ds.
My breathing shallows as I await his response.
I can’t help but notice my inhibitions and body issues steadily returning.
They’re overshadowing the thundering arousal, which is oddly disappointing.
I wished it away a few minutes ago. And now?
I’d love to be lost in that haze rather than dealing with the fear of being found lacking by this stunning man.
After a lingering exhale, he places a wisp of a kiss on the top of my breast. The gesture is so reverent that it makes me want to cry.
And I just might.
“Why tonight, huh? Hmm.” He shakes his head and refocuses every last drop of his attention on my face.
His hand stops roaming, settling around my waist so he’s holding me close to him.
“Well, I barely slept last night. Today was a hell of a day. Physically, I’m exhausted.
Mentally, I’m shot to shit.” He swallows, then adds, “Emotionally, however, I’m finally right where I belong.
When you’re with me, all the bad shit fades away.
Lila, you soothe my soul, completing me in ways that never made sense until tonight. ”