Chapter 15 Marsh #3
We approach her white Jeep, and although I am thoroughly confused, I do what she says when she tells me to get inside.
“I only have like twenty minutes left on my meter—”
“We’re not going anywhere,” she says, and once we’re both inside she turns to me. “Say tit.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Say tit.”
I’m on the verge of laughing in her face, but she’s so fucking serious, I don’t think that would go over well.
“Why?” I ask.
“After college, when I started writing sex stories and had to pitch them to my editor, it was always really awkward for me,” she starts. “Writing about all these topics was no problem. Saying them to someone else felt weird. It was uncomfortable having to say certain things out loud.”
“Lucy, I’m not uncomf—”
“So, what I would do,” she continues, “is sit by myself and say words that I wouldn’t normally. I desensitized myself…and it helped!”
What she’s saying weirdly makes a ton of sense.
“I don’t see how this is helpful for me.”
“You’re writing a story about sex work.” She puts out her hand to make a point. “How can you conduct these interviews if you can’t even talk about sex comfortably?”
I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re going to make me sit here and say a bunch of words?”
“Unless you go outside and say tits and cum guzzler without breaking a sweat, then yes. And trust me, it does wonders for the bedroom.”
I frown. “How?”
“Women love dirty talk,” she says in a way that makes the hairs on my arms stand. “Ready?”
One of these days, I’m going to have a backbone when it comes to this woman.
“Fine.” I sigh and lift my glasses to pinch the bridge of my nose. “But I think we need to say for the record that whatever is said in this car cannot and will not be used against me?”
“I promise.” Lucy laughs.
“Okay.” I crack my neck. “Tits…. Happy?”
There’s a slight twitch at the corner of Lucy’s mouth. She’s far from finished.
“Dick,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “Dick.”
Lucy squints. “Cock.”
I pause. There’s an eagerness in her eyes as she waits for my next move. I’m not a prude, but my resistance is making me start to feel like one. My jaw muscle works overtime as I debate whether to continue whatever game we’re playing here.
“Cock,” I repeat.
“Use it in a sentence,” she tells me.
I bite down, grinding my back teeth against one another.
I’m certain Lucy is expecting me to surrender.
To say uncle and admit that she’s right, but I don’t want her thinking I’m incapable of dirty talk.
I’ll never be able to have Lucy the way I want her, so the least I can do is show her what she’s missing.
“I want to feel my cock inside of you,” I say, my voice lowering, and Lucy’s breath hitches.
Her eyes are wide, and this is when I expect her to break out into one of her infectious smiles and call it a day, but she swallows instead.
“Again,” she says, and I oblige.
“Do you have any idea how hard my cock is?”
Lucy’s breaths deepen, and I see her ever so subtly lick her lips.
“Another one,” she says softly.
Suddenly the car feels smaller, more intimate than it is. I can sense Lucy’s desire to continue. She doesn’t want whatever we’re doing to end, and I don’t think I do either.
I make sure my eyes are on hers, that she can see me.
“My cock is throbbing for you, Lucy.”
Lucy shifts in her seat, and I catch her rubbing her thighs together. “Clit,” she says.
I huff. There’s something about Lucy that completely arouses me in a way I’ve never experienced before. Everything feels so hot and consensual, like we’re testing the limits together.
“I’ve been dying to suck that sweet little clit of yours,” I say, and the words surprise even me. I don’t usually say things like this. In fact, I’ve never said anything like this. But it just feels so natural and so right when I’m with Lucy.
“Pussy.” She leans in a little closer, and it takes everything in me to not touch her. She keeps her eyes on mine, not looking away for a second. I do the same, worried that if our eye contact breaks, so does this moment.
“Is that pussy wet for me?”
“More,” she barely whispers.
I inch closer and move my mouth to her ear. “I want to feel how wet that pussy is,” I say, and I feel her tremble. “I want to taste it. I want to feel it clenching around my fingers.”
Her forehead collapses onto my shoulder. “You’re making me wet,” she whispers.
I frown, not sure what word I’m supposed to say. “Lucy, I—”
“No, Marsh,” she breathes. “I’m telling you how wet I am.”
I pull back and look at Lucy; her eyes are big and desperate, and she now appears tormented that her own game has been used against her.
“How wet?” I ask.
“Feel for yourself,” she says, and my dick twitches.
“Lucy, we—”
“I know.” She clenches her eyes shut. “I know.”
I swallow and wipe a palm over my face. I push away all thoughts of taking my hand and putting it down Lucy’s jeans, fingering her until her eyes roll to the back of her head as I whisper more dirty thoughts in her ear.
“I should go,” I say.
“Yeah.” She nods. “Good idea.”
When I get back into my car I throw my head back, shutting my eyes. We’re in trouble.