CHAPTER TWENTY #2
Not from Rufus, not from myself. I’d never touched myself, if I was being completely honest. Sure, I washed my body in the shower, and when my finger would brush my clit, a small zap of pleasure might rush through me, but I never did anything beyond that.
Call it shyness, call it residual trauma from my ex, but for whatever reason, I just never felt any desire to fulfil myself.
Sex with Rufus had always been so brutal.
He was big, hairy, old, and smelled terrible.
He would climb on top of me like a half-dead walrus, pump a few times, then roll off—back into the sea—and fall asleep.
And that was when he wasn’t drunk. When he was drunk and wanted sex, I was often left sore for days—and not in the good way my cousins say can happen—or I’d bleed.
I wasn’t allowed to say no. Refusing intimacy with your husband was not the way they did things in Christian Fundamentalist groups, and Rufus, in particular, did not like to be denied—anything.
Luckily, drunk sex with Rufus never lasted very long. He often couldn’t keep it up, or he’d pass out on top of me before he finished. Then I’d have to carefully roll him off me before I suffocated or was crushed to death.
Tom, however, was the antithesis of Rufus. He held me. He cared for me. He didn’t pressure me into anything. Which made me want to finally take that carnal leap with him all the more.
Even though in my heart—and between my legs—I felt ready, there were two people in this growing relationship, and something told me he was also holding back.
With the lights out and my thoughts rampant and suggestive, I licked my fingers and slowly slid them down under the covers, past the waistband of my panties, and through the trimmed patch of curls until I found my slick, throbbing clit.
A sigh escaped my lips as I squeezed my eyes shut tighter and pictured Tom, wet from the duck pond, his white T-shirt plastered to his skin and the soft-brown of his eyes glowing in the sunlight.
Then I imagined his lips on my neck, my jaw, my mouth, and down my body, across each breast, around each nipple, and further south.
Until my fingers became his fingers. Until my fingers became his mouth.
Around and around, I rubbed, gathering more arousal when I needed it as the pressure in my lower belly began to build. My fingers started to cramp and my legs trembled, but I kept going, not knowing if I’d be able to take the plunge over the edge, or if I’d stop myself out of fear.
My breath grew ragged, and my clit swelled beneath my cramping fingertips as I continued to rub circles, but my rhythm faltered the closer to release I drew.
I wanted Tom.
I wanted Tom on top of me. Inside of me. Surrounding me in every way.
Maybe the first time I orgasmed should be with him? Neither of us was a virgin, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t save something special for him, right?
You’re overthinking this. What if you can’t orgasm with him because you’ve never orgasmed before? As Gabrielle has said, you can’t expect a man to please you if you can’t please yourself.
Right!
If I couldn’t please myself, how could I expect a man to do it?
Especially if I didn’t know what I liked and didn’t like?
With my free hand, I plucked at my left nipple over my nightshirt, and apparently, that was something that pleased me, because the sudden swell of pleasure that coursed through me was overwhelming.
My back bowed, my head left the pillow, and my clit doubled in size as everything inside of my body turned warm and tingly.
A beautiful, white light flashed behind my closed eyelids, and I squeezed them shut even tighter while wave after wave of never-experienced-bliss ricocheted through me like a rubber ball in an empty room.
A moment later, totally sated with heavy breaths, I collapsed back into my pillow.
“Holy shit,” I murmured into the darkness, still not bothering to open my eyes. “That’s what I’ve been missing?”
My thighs twitched a little, and the space between my legs throbbed in the most exquisitely pleasant way.
I stayed there for several heartbeats, just relishing the aftershocks of my very first orgasm and how thoughts of Tom never left my mind.
Even though it was my hand, I pretended it was his.
Gentle, knowing, possessive. Even though it was my hand, I imagined his mouth was there too, kissing and licking me in all the right ways, bringing me pleasure I’d never known before.
Once I was no longer panting, I threw back the covers and went to wash my hands in the bathroom. Staring at myself in the mirror, I saw a new woman.
My cheeks were flushed and rosy, my eyes bright but a little unfocused, and my hair was a mess. But I looked … relaxed. I felt relaxed. Possibly more than I ever had in my life.
Running back to the bedroom, I grabbed my phone and texted Gabrielle.
You still awake?
She messaged back right away.
Yeah. Everything okay?
I wore pajama pants and a baggy black T-shirt, and all I bothered to do was slide into some sandals before I was out the door and climbing her porch steps again. We never bothered to knock when we entered each other’s houses, so I just went right in.
She met me in the kitchen, with concern on her face. “What happened?”
I glanced into the living room. “Where’s Mav?”
“Having a shower. What is going on? You’re freaking me out.” Her brow narrowed in concern.
Grabbing her elbow, I pulled her outside and shut the door. “I just had an orgasm.”
Those pinched brows widened and nearly flew clear off her forehead. “With Tom?”
“No. On my own.”
“Good for you. Though, I’m not sure if warrants your coming to tell me in person?”
“Am I supposed to feel like this afterward?”
“Like what?”
“Relaxed, but also desperate for another one?”
Tossing her head back in a laugh, she reached out for my arm to steady herself so she wouldn’t fall off the porch.
“Oh my god, you’re adorable. And yes. To both of those things.
Orgasms are one of the universe’s very few gifts to humans.
Especially women, since ours are stronger and we can have many.
Otherwise, chicks get the short straw in life. ”
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I hugged my arms around myself as a chilly spring breeze swept across us both, causing goosebumps to race along my skin. “You guys keep talking about vibrators.”
Her grin became sly. “Want me to order you one?”
“Maybe. My, uh … my fingers cramped.”
She was having a hell of a time not smiling like an all-knowing orgasm veteran. “Consider it done.”
“Only one. I don’t need a whole box, or drawer, or whatever. Just … just whatever little bullet thing you think will work. Nothing fancy or with a thousand speeds. I don’t want to cause my clitoris to fall off.”
“They grow back, don’t you know,” she said, pulling her phone out of her back pocket.
“We’re like sea stars that way. Or chameleons.
Their tails grow back; our clits grow back.
But only if they fall off from having too many orgasms.” Her fingers flew across the screen, the light of her phone making her amber eyes glow.
“This is very exciting, I must say. And,” she pressed her hand to her chest, “I’m honored, actually, that you came to me.
You could have gone to Raina or Naomi, who are far more …
vocal about this stuff. But you came to me. Thank you.”
“You were still awake,” I murmured, earning a side-eye from her.
“There. All ordered. It’ll be here in five to seven business days. I even paid for the shipping to be expedited, but living on an island and all that bullshit, it’ll still take five to seven business days.”
“You ordered me something plain, right? Nothing with spikes, whirling bits, or a million speeds?”
Her hand rested on the doorknob, and she shrugged. “You’ll have to wait and see. But in the meantime, you should go have a few more, just to double-check that it wasn’t a fluke and you can, in fact, have more than one in your lifetime.” Then she opened the door. “Happy coming, Danica.”
I sucked in a slow, deep breath. “I love you, but you’re annoying.”
“I love you too, and I didn’t hear that last part.
” Then she blew me a kiss and headed inside while I made my way back to my apartment over the garage and did as I was told.
The problem was I barely got any freaking sleep.
Oh well, that was for Sunday Danica to worry about.
Saturday night Danica was in orgasm heaven. Finally.
He picked me up exactly at eleven o’clock, and the kiss hello was far less chaste than yesterday’s kiss hello when he first arrived.
And after my night of self-exploration and gratification, one would think I’d be satisfied and not looking at Tom like a glass of expensive Italian wine I wanted to drink until the last drop.
I was thirsty, and he was the only person I wanted to satiate me.
“Bella,” he greeted, wrapping an arm around my waist and planting a kiss on my lips.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed my body into his, and kissed him back, moaning a little before he pulled away.
His head tilted to the side as he stared into my eyes.
“You seem … different, bella. Did you sleep well?”
I didn’t sleep much at all.
I nodded. “Yes. I’m great. You?”
“I slept … okay.” He steered us toward his truck, and, like a gentleman who I wanted to ride bareback in a field of wildflowers, he held the door open for me.
I stalked him with my eyes as he made his way around the grill, all purposeful in his stride, his broad shoulders moving with confidence beneath his flannel jacket.
I squeezed my thighs together and took a few calming breaths before he opened his door and slid in behind the steering wheel, smiling at me. “You sure you are okay?”
Beaming at him, I nodded. “I’m great. I swear.”