Page 41 of Kiss Me, Maybe

“You say stop, we stop,” she says.

“And vice versa,” I add, and she nods. “Well, in that case, I have a couple ideas to get us started.” Her eyes go dark, and her thighs clench tighter. “Lie back on the mattress.”

She does as I say, settling herself higher on the bed. Her hair fans over the pillow, dark curls I ache to sink my fingers into.

“Good.”

I let my eyes skate over her body. The curves of her waist, her thick thighs, her flushed skin. I imagine what she’d look like beneath the last remaining layers, how her hands would move over her body, the kind of sounds she’d make.

“Take off your bra.”

The thin material slides off her chest before falling to the floor. It doesn’t matter that I could practically see everything through her bra. Without it, she’s a fucking masterpiece. She arches her back, pushing her breasts forward and smirking at how dumb my face must look right now.

Breathe, Angela.

“Like what you see?”

“Uh…” I have no idea what the right response to that is, so I settle for a nod. Then I let out an awkward laugh, resisting the urge to cover my red cheeks with both hands. “You love embarrassing me, don’t you?”

“Only when it helps my ego.” Her smirk goes crooked.

“I’ll get you back for that,” I warn with a tsk. “I didn’t give you permission to talk.”

Her mouth closes, even as her eyes sparkle with intrigue.

“Panties next.” She does as I say, sliding them down her long legs, but not before I catch sight of the wet spot in the center of the fabric.

Fucking Christ, she’s as turned on by this as I am.

Her thighs close as soon as her underwear hits the floor, hiding that perfect view I almost got of her. Maybe it’s better this way. I shouldn’t be this close to combusting when we’ve barely even started.

“How do you feel?”

Her chest falls with a deep breath. “Good.”

“Comfortable?”

“Exposed,” she responds with a shaky laugh.

“Do you want to keep going?”

She nods, and even though I’d be more than happy to stop if that’s what she wanted, there’s no hiding the relief that washes over me.

“Close your eyes, pretty girl,” I tell her. “Imagine you’re alone.”

Her eyes flutter closed.

“It’s just you and the voice in your ear, guiding you.” She gives a subtle nod as if to herself. “I want you to run your hands down your body. Wherever feels nice. Your inner thighs, your stomach, your breasts.”

Her fingers drag up her full stomach, along her waist, up to her breasts. She uses both hands to pinch her nipples. A moan falls from her lips as her fingers work, teasing and pulling.So this is how she likes it.I’ll have to remember—

This is just practice, I remind myself. No matter how much my mind is already coming up with excuses for a repeat. But still, I can’t help but wonder if nipple-pinching is really what does it for her or if there’s something more that could help her along.

“Are you doing that for me? Pinching your nipples like that?” Her eyes flit open. “Or because it makes you feel good?”

“Does it matter?” She halts her movements. “This is your fantasy. This is about your pleasure.”

“Of course it matters,” I say. “My pleasure isn’t at your expense. It starts and ends with yours.”

---