Chapter 10 #3
“Okay,” Gary said. “How about this? You tell me if you don’t like something, or if you’re tired of it. No keeping quiet. Don’t just put up with anything because you’re too self-conscious to say.”
She winced. He knew her too well. She would totally keep quiet just to get something over with.
“Margaret? Deal?”
She took a deep breath and went all-in. “Deal.”
With that, Gary brushed back her bra and slipped his hand underneath. Big hand, big grip. Except, he didn’t squeeze. He supported her gently, moving things around a bit as he cupped her left breast. Then, still holding her, he brushed his thumb across her nipple.
It wasn’t exactly pleasure, because she was too tense. But it wasn’t unpleasant either. Her body tightened, and her breath stuttered.
He must have sensed her change, because he immediately froze. “Too soon?”
“N-no,” she stammered. “It’s…”
“Amazing? Incredible. I’m the Breast Whisperer?”
She laughed and reached back to slap him—not hard, because she didn’t have the angle, and he chuckled right along with her. Then he leaned in and whispered into her ear.
“See? Sex doesn’t have to be so serious.”
She didn’t have the breath to argue.
First, the laughter had been good. It had allowed her to relax and remember all the great things between them.
Second, as she’d twisted to slap him, his hand adjusted.
He was cupping her differently now, and he was beginning to squeeze and twist her nipple.
That sent erotic bolts through her system.
Tiny pulses of arousal that she both liked and feared.
Stupid, to fear her own reaction, but there it was. She didn’t want things to go bad between them. What if she couldn’t perform how he wanted? What if all this proved was that she truly was deficient somehow? That there was no hope at all for her.
“Hey, stay with me,” he whispered.
She turned and looked into his eyes. He had propped himself up on one elbow, and his gaze was serious.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She looked away. “What if this doesn’t work?”
“Then it doesn’t work. Our friendship isn’t going to change. How I feel about you isn’t going to change.”
She could see that he meant it. She also knew that the love he felt for her was true, bright and determined.
“I don’t know that I’m worth all this,” she said. Then her eyes widened as she heard herself.
“Baby,” he replied, his expression tender. “You are worth everything.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, he adjusted her further onto her back and pulled up her shirt.
That felt stupid, having her shirt and bra bunched up near her neck, so taking a deep breath she hauled them both off.
If they were going to do this, they might as well do this all the way.
There. Now she was naked to the waist, and he was looking down at her like at buried treasure.
“Gary—”
“Shhh. I’m admiring.” He grinned. “You have great breasts.”
“That are getting cold.” They were. “I should put my shirt back on.”
“Hell, no,” he said. “Let me warm them up.”
Once again, contrary to what she expected, he didn’t go crazy. Instead, he maneuvered himself upright beside her. The position took some adjustments, what with his legs, but he got there and then flashed her an impish grin.
“This is it,” he said as he waggled his eyebrows. “This is the moment I learn to become the Boob Whisperer.”
She laughed. How could she not?
“Now,” he continued, “you just lie there and remember that I can’t learn what you don’t teach. So you need to tell me what you like and what you don’t. Harder, softer, different. Whatever. You just remember to talk. Deal?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Deal.”
“Excellent.”
And so he got started. This time he used both hands. He molded her, he shaped her. He tweaked her nipples and went in for sustained pulses. He forced her to give him instructions, which soon seemed almost second nature. Harder. Softer. Just like that. Or I want more.
That one surprised her: When she first looked him in the eyes and finally said, “More.”
He complied. Oh, did he comply. He leaned down and put his mouth on her nipples, sucked them in and teased them until Margaret was gasping with excitement.
She gripped his shoulders, holding on tight.
She stopped giving instructions because her back was arched, her blood pumping hot and hard through every vein, and her breasts felt amazing.
She wanted exactly what he was doing. She wanted it just like that.
And then she wanted more.
She tugged on his shoulders and dragged him up from her breasts. He came up immediately, exactly responsive to her needs. But when he looked at her, she couldn’t verbalize what she wanted. She hadn’t the breath, and she hadn’t the nerve.
Thankfully, he knew.
“Can I take off your jeans, Margaret? Can I touch you there?” He winked. “Will you teach me how to be the Clit Whisperer too?”
She exhaled a laugh. That joke was really working for him.
Nodding, she stripped out of her jeans and panties even as her body flushed with embarrassment.
Or maybe it was something else. Maybe it was arousal, or need, or any one of those other terms that meant she was wired like every other person.
Or maybe this was simply because of Gary, who made it all about her.
She didn’t even mind when he stroked her thigh and cupped her knee, slowly spreading her legs.
Or did she? She felt herself tense. God, he was looking at her so seriously! Just looking.
“I know this needs to be gentle,” he whispered, brushing the backs of his fingers up the inside of her leg. “But I gotta say, you look so hot lying there. And you smell so good. I’m as hard as I’ve ever been.”
Her gaze went to his crotch, and sure enough, his sweats had a large tentpole. She started to reach, but he batted her hand away.
“No. I was just expressing my appreciation. Don’t distract me.”
“Gary—”
“Please.” His expression softened. “This is important to us both.”
Was it? To them both?
He must have read the doubt on her face. “Don’t you want this?”
She swallowed and nodded. She did want to know. But… “I’m afraid to hope. I’m afraid that I’m wired wrong and we’ll both be disappointed. I’m—”
He caressed the side of her face. “I know all about the dangers of hope.” He cast a wry look at his legs. “But we both need to be brave, okay?”
It didn’t seem like they compared. Hoping for legs or hoping for a great orgasm? Still, she supposed hope was hope. And the possible crushing disappointment was equally terrifying.
“Swear this won’t change us,” she said.
“Our friendship? Not in the least. But know that, success or failure, someday I truly will be—”
“Do not say it!”
He expanded his chest and dropped his fists on his hips like Superman. “The Clit Whisperer!”
“Oh my God. You have no shame, do you?”
“Absolutely none,” he said. “Comedy is repetition.” Then he leaned down to kiss her mouth.
It was a sweet, gentle kiss, and one that took its time.
Gary teased first her lips and then her tongue, and by the time she’d wrapped her hands around his shoulders and was drawing him down to her, her whole body was involved.
Her tongue dueled with his, her breasts thrust toward his chest, and her legs were restless as they rubbed against his hips.
He was still kissing her when she felt his fingers on her mound. Slowly they’d slid down between her thighs, and she felt their thickness, the bumps of his finger joints and the steady way he moved, spreading her wetness everywhere. But it was…not quite right. She began to get nervous.
There was no need. He broke the kiss, attuned to her emotion. “Do you like this?”
She shook her head. “Not like that.”
“So tell me.”
She did. She taught him how to push his fingers inside her and draw them slowly up across her clit, doing everything she’d ever sensed she liked but that had as yet failed to fulfill her.
Not this time. She taught him her favorite strokes and was delighted when he added his own flair.
And then she stopped using words and just made sounds.
Her legs were wide, her spine was arched, and her belly tightened again and again.
This was the prelude to orgasm, but he didn’t push her over the edge. He kept taking her close then stopping.
Once was bad enough, but by the third time she was gripping his thigh as she glared at him. “Gary! Oh my God, Gary!”
He watched her closely, studying her like he did a stock report or market pundits, but she didn’t care. She liked being the focus of his undivided attention, and she liked what he was doing to her even as he was making her crazy.
“Deeper. Deeper!”
God, she wanted him inside her. She wanted something thick and hard and him to penetrate her. And wow, she’d never thought that before. What was happening to her?
Then he pushed her over the edge with something she’d never felt before: He pinched her clit. Quick and sharp, the sensation threw her over the orgasmic cliff. She cried out as every part of her exploded into brilliance.
Yes!
These were contractions just like she’d felt before, but there was something better.
Something more fulfilling. She was flying, unfettered, unjudged, and wholly living for herself.
Feeling for herself. And yet she shared this with Gary, and so it felt even more special.
It felt transformative. It felt…healing.
So, this was what sex was supposed to be like.
It wasn’t just about an explosion of pleasure but about feeling amazing with someone who cared to make it so.
Someone she could tell without embarrassment or guilt about what she wanted, who took the time to do exactly that.
Which meant she wasn’t dead down there. She’d just never found the right person.