Page 72 of Riding the Pine

He moves his hand under the band of my pj pants, but I slap his hand. He leans over me, nuzzles his nose against mine. “Didn’t you tell me you had a cup in?”

“Yeah.” Where’s he going with this?

“So, I can make you come without you getting weirded out by blood, right?”

“If you stick to my clit, sure.” Are we really negotiating him fingering me on my period? I’ve never had a guy touch me while I’m bleeding. Does he really not care? Or is he trying to make me feel better?

His fingers wander under my pants toward my clit, I can’t help it, I’m a passenger to the lust raging through my body. I’m always hornier on my period, sure, but I generally get off in the shower, or right before I’m supposed to shower. I’ve never thought to simply… come. Isn’t it weird? Do people do it?

Fuck. His fingers circle my clit.

Do I care if people do it?

What if I like it, and he doesn’t?

My body shivers, my nipples harden. I can’t resist the urge to slip off my pj shirt and play with my swollen, tender breasts while his hand moves inside my pants.

“It helps, you know?” He’s murmuring close to my ear, but I’m distracted by the heavy pleasure in my body.

“I read that sex on your period can help with cramping, Bright Eyes. Let me try, please?”

A sigh slips between my parted lips. “You really don’t care?”

“No, Athena, I don’t care. If you do, we can put down a towel, but I truly don’t care. I’d fuck you every day of the month, twice a day if you’d let me.” After a long pause he kisses my cheek. “Fine, that may break my dick, and make you sore, but I would, if it didn’t.”

His fingers don’t stop, in fact, they get faster, picking up speed as he circles and skims my swollen clit.

Gripping his hand on a sharp breath, I whisper his name. “I take longer to orgasm on my period.”

“Don’t care,” is his reply as he kisses me deeply. “If you want to try, I’m down for it. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I’m also not going to hide from the fact that period sex doesn’t deter me from wanting you.”

He kisses me again. “I don’t think it’s gross at all.” Another kiss. “And if it helps it could work in my favor for every month going forward.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Win, win.”

Why is this so tempting? Shouldn’t I be grossed out by it? But it feels so goddamn good.

My back arches, head tips back, and I’m rolling my hips as he fingers me.

“Tell me you don’t like it, Athena.”

I can’t.

“Tell me you don’t want it.”

Still can’t.

“Tell me to stop.”

I grip his hand as if to warn him that if he stops, he’ll lose his arm. But he stops.

“Scott!” I bolt upright, letting go of my tits. “Do it again.”

He folds his arms, toeing at something on the floor, probably the edge of my plush rug. “Go empty your cup.”

“Scott, please.”

The corners of his lips twitch. “Are you going to beg for me, Bright Eyes? Take out your cup.”

I shake my head, folding my own arms, but my sensitive nipples make me shiver. “What if we make a mess?”

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