Chapter 10Good morning to me. #3
“What makes you insecure with a woman?” I ask, loving way more than I should that we’re still holding hands. And now, his thumb is stroking my hand. Wetness burgeons at my seam, and I can’t help but think of his stroking thumb touching and rubbing me… on my bare pussy.
He chuckles soft and light. “Just jumping right into it, eh? ”
I smile and shrug, but the truth is, I need to get into it because…
I’m vibrating to touch him. Taste his lips.
Show him the things he wants to learn while having some sliver of selfish gratification in the process.
I just want to know what it’s like to be with a man like Miller before he’s not mine anymore. “That's why I’m here, right?”
His bright eyes flick between mine, studying me for a moment. Finally, he says, “yeah.”
“So, what makes you insecure with women?”
Using his free hand–I’m so glad–he strokes a hand down his face thoughtfully, staring blankly at his TV, which is off. I like that he didn’t feel the need to have background distractions to soften the environment. He didn’t need a buffer–just us.
“I guess it’s two things. Not knowing what she wants and, if I did know, not knowing how to deliver it.”
I nod. “Okay.”
He shakes his head, looking off into the kitchen.
“What?”
He faces me again, this time wearing a slightly droopy expression and a sad smile. “This is… embarrassing. I’m twenty-six and I’ve never…” he swallows as his eyes trace the curve of my lips. “Done more than makeout.”
The idea that this muscled, endearing, sweet, kind, sexy human being is completely untouched blows me away. I mean, I understand how it happened, but a huge part of me still can’t believe it. He’s so fucking hot.
My voice is soft, acting as a verbal hug with my words. “No, not embarrassing at all. You had so much to experience, so much growth when you left your parents.” I tighten our linked hands. “You can’t do everything at once. You chipped away at all the unknowns, and this is next in line. ”
His soft smile makes my pussy clench. “You always know what to say.”
“I speak the truth,” I reply, my eyes caught on his mouth.
“Well. That’s the truth. Everything is intimidating to me, really.”
Taking action, I swing my leg over his hip and straddle him once again. I let go of our linked hands so I can rest my palms on his chest, and god, does it feel good. He’s hard and defined, and I wonder what he looks like without a shirt.
My nails stroke gently down his pecs and then up again as I bring my lips to his. “Are you wearing it?” I ask, referring to the chastity cage I delivered here a few days back. “How are you feeling about it?”
His nod is subtle. “I am,” he says, sounding hoarse. “I feel good so far. Kind of excited.”
“Good,” I reply, my lips almost touching his. “So don’t worry about your body reacting to me. Just focus on letting yourself enjoy this, okay?”
He nods, but I see some confusion etched into his forehead. His body heat radiates, and I greedily absorb it as my nipples harden.
I went for another simple outfit tonight because I don’t want to appear more into this than he is. Jeans, a white long-sleeved henley, hair down. No makeup, nothing fancy. Perfect for our… situation.
“And turning myself over to you…” he trails off, clearly questioning the process.
“Trust the process. By the end of this, you won’t have a single self-doubt.
You’ll know, based on watching me touch you, just what gets a woman going.
And you’ll know how to touch her because I’ll show you.
And you’ll never have an ounce of doubt again.
I promise.” I kiss him and love that he leans in a little as I pull away.
“Give yourself to me, and when we’re done, you won’t remember any version of you that was unsure. ”
He nods, and I wiggle against his crotch, moaning a little at the feel of his cage grinding my center.
Miller has his cock in a cage because I told him to .
My mind spins a little at the fact that we’re here, and any lingering hesitation that maybe I can't do this drains away because when I’m over Miller like this, I know, experienced or not, I can show us both endless pleasure.
“Laney, you should know, I’m a virgin,” he rushes out quickly, worry draining from his face as he does, like he’d been worried to share. The thing is, I already knew. I still remember Atti’s expression when he knew he’d let the fact slip. And I never said a word, to respect them both.
“I know.” I taste his lips, and love the flavor he leaves behind. “I’m going to be careful and safe, okay?”
He nods, and I feel his trust in that one movement. Trust I will do everything to honor and protect.
“Everything I’m going to do to you now is how third and fourth dates go, okay?”
He nods, and I notice how pink his cheeks are. And how he’s breathing a little fast, too.
“Don’t be nervous,” I say, moving my hands from his chest to his cheeks. “It’s me. Laney .” My body quietly shivers at that statement. It’s Miller and me right now, and the ache that tears through my heart at our temporary nature is getting hard to ignore.
“Okay,” he says, exhaling a couple of steadying breaths. “Show me.”
Sliding off his lap, he harrumphs. “Hey, I liked you up there.” Fuck, if I don’t agree.
I smile and curl my legs beneath me to gain height at his side.
I drop my arm around his shoulders. “You put your arm around her,” I say, our gazes never leaving one another.
My fingers meet his shoulder, hard and warm, and I knead him gently.
He pushes a heavy breath past his lips. “And let your fingers play a little. Massage, knead, you know,” I say, my voice getting quieter and raspier with each word.
His eyes search mine as my fingers stroke his perfect shoulder over his flannel.
Can a shoulder be perfect? Yes, yes, it can.
“At this point,” I say, “it’s really about starting the tease. The subtle touches that get her tingling.”
His mouth sounds devoid of moisture when he croaks, “does this move get you…” he swallows, gaining courage which is both insanely sexy and adorable. “ Tingling ?”
I nod.
“Then say something sweet, but like this.” With my fingers still roaming his shoulder, I lean in and bring my lips to the untouched, soft spot right below his earlobe, along his throat.
My lips dust his warm, private skin as I say, “you smell good tonight.” Then I press my lips to the strong column of his neck, kissing him just once before pulling back. “Then a small kiss to seal the words.”
Our eyes come together as soon as I pull back; his chest is rising and falling almost urgently now.
“Did you like that?” I ask, subtly adjusting my position on the couch so that where I’m sitting on my heels aligns with my pussy. The immediate friction feels so good.
Bending at the elbow, I move my wandering fingers to the ends of his hair and start playing. It’s so soft; I discreetly wiggle my heel beneath me to ease the pressure building in my clit. He nods but doesn’t speak.
“You can play with her hair,” I say, sifting my fingers up the back of his head.
He leans into my touch, and as he does, the slope of his neck becomes defined, his Adam’s apple bulging.
“Does it feel good?” Based on his body language and the way his eyes threaten to close as he looks at me with a heady gaze–I know it does.
“Yes,” he croaks, blinking at me slowly.
Heart bumping my ribs, I bring my hand to his thigh, and he tilts his head forward, watching me. Stroking his thigh, I say, “or instead of what I just did, you can put your hand on her thigh. Women love seeing a man’s hand on their leg.”
When I look down and see my hand on his broad, muscular thigh, I realize I love this just as much.
Seeing myself casually touching a man, as if I’m part of something serious and real, it’s everything I want.
Knowing it’s Miller I’m touching… it feels like I’m only just now realizing that I don’t just want this, but I want it with him.
For real.
“I like seeing your hand there,” he rasps out, still studying me, always watching me.
I don’t think he’s taken his eyes off me at all yet.
His eyes are hungry, making me feel like the most desired meal.
I ignore his comment because admitting my truth allows too much vulnerability between us.
Physical vulnerability is one thing, but I can’t play with my heart. Not when it comes to him.
“After letting your fingers play a little,” I say, fanning my fingers across his thigh, eager to feel as much of him as I can without coming off overly eager, “you can move it up a bit.” I slide my hand down his thigh, closer to his groin.
“Then you can just touch and tease casually over her clothes to get her really worked up.”
I rub his leg a few times, the last pass connecting with his crotch only slightly. Yet it was enough of a graze to feel the cage. Arousal rushes out of me as he traps a deep groan in his chest .
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes going glassy with each pass of my palm up his thigh.
“For what?” I continue rubbing his leg, letting each swipe connect with his crotch for a second. I can tell myself it’s part of the lesson, but I think it’s as much for me as it is for him.
“The, like, noise I made.” His cheeks flush. “I don’t want to creep you out.”
Immediately I straddle myself in his lap, using my knees to pinch his hips. I drop my hands to his pecs and begin rubbing him, the heel of my palm skating over his nipples as I do.
“Don’t apologize for enjoying yourself. That’s not confident; that comes across as embarrassed. Don’t be embarrassed for having needs, having them met, and enjoying it, okay?” I rub him through my speech, and he agrees with a nod.
“Okay.”
“So you’re rubbing her shoulder, playing with her hair, touching her leg, whatever it is, the way you know she wants more is if she’s edging closer to you,” I say, canting toward the couch to bring our torsos nearly flush.
“Or if she’s breathing hard,” I say, sliding my hands to the sides of his throat, thumbs on his face as he breathes fast and hard.
“Like me,” he says.
“Like us ,” I say, taking his hand from his side to place it over my chest.
Another errant groan escapes him, this time making it past his lips. “She may make a noise of approval,” I say after, and he smiles, knowing he did just that. “Then you know she wants more.”
Bringing his hand up, he pushes curls over my shoulder. I catch it on its way down, linking our fingers together .
“What if she doesn’t make a noise?” he asks, voice hoarse.
Eyes on mine, we stare at one another as I reach behind, finding his crotch below my ass. Cage pressed to my center, I move my hand up and down his balls, and even though he’s wearing jeans, I can feel them. And he can feel me.
His eyes close–he can’t fight it anymore. With a plunk, his head falls back against the couch, and he lets a long, feral groan free as I softly stroke his full sac over the denim.
I break our linked hands and center my palm over his heart, applying pressure as I grind down against him gently, still rubbing his balls. He groans again, thick veins straining in his neck as he does, like these few touches and movements are driving him to the edge.
If I could binge on his groans, I would.
“Then you keep touching until she does like I’m doing now.”
One more subtle, teasing pass of the back of my curled knuckles against his balls, and his eyes are open, hands on my knees, gripping me with white knuckles.
“So,” he stammers, voice cracked like a windshield moments from fully shattering. “Just keep touching her, huh?”
I nod and still my hips, leaving my crotch directly on top of his caged cock. “Yep, and it’s up to you for the next part.”
“What’s the next part?” he says around a moan he’s clearly trying to stifle, just a little. And I love that he’s a moaning, groaning mess right now. I’m dripping wet from it.
I lean forward, leaving just the tips of my fingers on his sac, drumming. “Finishing her.”