Page 31 of The Love Playbook

His eyes hold mine for a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me what to do?”

I shrug. “I wasn’t planning on you getting me off today. We’ll take it slow. This way you won’t be distracted by taking everything in at once. I’m comfortable being naked, so I don’t mind you looking. And as I said earlier, feel free to touch as much as you want.”

He holds my gaze a moment longer as though he’s expecting me to add something or take something back, but when I don’t, he returns his attention to my body, and soon his hands follow.

My eyes falling closed again, I sink into the sensations of his palms gliding over my skin. They’re surprisingly soft. Most of the football players I’ve been with have a certain amount of calluses—the product of hours in the weight room and on the practice field. Some wide receivers wear gloves … maybe Jackson is one of them.

He trails his fingers from my collarbone, down the outsides of my breasts to my rib cage. His hands span my torso, his long fingers wrapping around to my back and his thumbs stroking lightly just beneath my breasts.

When I open my eyes, I find him staring down into my face. “I want to kiss you.”

In response, I lift my chin, and he lowers his mouth to mine.

He kisses me deeply, his hands sliding up until his thumbs rest on my nipples then circle slowly, softly, before moving back and forth over the tips.

Damn … this kid’s instincts are spot on. Or he’s been watching really feminist porn that focuses on the woman’s pleasure. Either way, I arch into his touch, seeking more.

And like a tease, he slides his hands down to my waist, not giving me what I’m silently asking for.

Instead, he kisses a path down my chest until he reaches my nipples, spending time on each one, glancing up at me as he gently sets his teeth to them again, watching until I gasp before sucking, licking, releasing, and moving to the other side.

Sweet gods and goddesses, I’m not sure what I did to set myself in his path, but I’m unbearably grateful for whatever it was.

He moves his way down my body, hands followed by lips. When he gets to my thighs, kissing where they meet my torso on each side, he looks up at me again. “I know you said you don’t expect anything, but what if … what if I want to?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jackson

Holding my breath, I wait for Autumn to respond. And when she does, it’s to slide her legs out from under me, planting her feet on the bed, and bringing me face to face with her pussy. The first pussy I’ve ever seen up close and personal in real life.

Her scent, sweet and tangy, washes over me. She props herself up on her elbows and looks down at me. “You want to go down on me?”

I give a half shrug, adjusting my position between her legs. “You went down on me. Isn’t it polite to return the favor?”

She purses her lips and tilts her head, her eyes going a little squinty as she regards me. “I mean, I suppose some people view it as that kind of transaction. But if that’s the only reason, then no. I don’t want politeness.” As she speaks she starts to sit up, closing her legs and withdrawing from me.

But I stop her with a hand on her leg, just under her knee, the beginning of the swell of her calf fitting into the palm of my hand quite perfectly. “Stop, Autumn,” I say quietly. She stills, her face bland as she regards me. “I want to. I want to give you the same kind of pleasure you gave me. Or at least try.”

She gives me a small smile. “Alright.” Scooching back down so her head’s on the pillow again, she keeps her knees together and tilted to the side as she looks down at me. “The most important thing is to pay attention.” She sounds like a teacher at the beginning of a lecture. Or a coach explaining a new drill or technique.

Biting back a smile at her tone, I dip my chin in a nod. “I can do that.”

Another small smile. “I know you can.” She straightens her legs, parting them beneath my chest. “Don’t be shy about exploring to start with. It’ll help me get more turned on too. Everyone always acts like you should go straight for the clitoris, but I prefer holding off on that. Or at least not making it the focus right away. Feel free to use your fingers too.”

That actually sounds like a less intimidating way to start to me, rather than just shoving my face in her crotch immediately. And her stated preference for me to explore first … that seems pretty low pressure. If I’m exploring, discovering, it’s hard to get it wrong, right? Exploring means there is no right or wrong. It’s just finding out what happens.

Propping myself on my left elbow, I run my hand up and down her inner thigh, enjoying the softness of her skin, the way her adductors tighten and stand out as she tenses the closer I get to her center.

I don’t know why that’s so hot, but it is, having her tense and waiting for my touch. I like it. I like it a lot.

I brush my fingertips over the smooth skin of her pussy. She’s bare, with a tidy landing strip pointing the way to her clitoris. I’ve heard people say that some guys can’t find it. I guess if there’s a clearly defined marker, it’s harder to miss.

A soft sigh escapes her at my touch, and I take that as encouragement, petting her there again, this time letting my fingers run along her slick, pink inner lips. A feminine grunt greets that action. “More, please,” she whispers.

So much for unfettered exploration, huh?

She huffs out a laugh, and I realize I must’ve spoken the thought aloud. That lazy, half-lidded look is back on her face as she meets my eyes. “Take all the time you want, Jackson. But I’m also trying to give you lots of feedback so you know what I like. What you choose to do with that information and when is entirely up to you.”

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