Page 59 of Well, Actually
His confusion is genuine, not judgmental, but I want to disappear all the same. I talk a big game in my posts about sex and the orgasm gap, but I’m nothing if not a timid hypocrite in my personal sex life. I’m all for people asking for what they want in bed, but I’ve always been so hung up on pleasing the other person, I don’t really know whatI’dask for. I don’t know what I need to get there with another person. I’ve never allowed myself to be vulnerable enough to explore that.
“I-I think I’d like it a little bit rough,” I manage to say, staring at the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. His fingers flex into my thighs, breathing frayed.
“Rough how?” he asks in a low rumble before placing a quick, sharp bite to my breast.
“Like that,” I gasp out.
“How else?” When I don’t immediately speak, he bites me again, then soothes the area with a decadent lick of his tongue, ripping another gasp from me.
“I… I don’t… I mean… This isn’t… I haven’t…” He drags his teeth to my nipple, gently nipping at the peak before sucking it deep into his mouth. My vision blurs.
“You haven’t what, Kitten?” he whispers.
I groan in response, wriggling closer, holding his head to my chest and silently begging him to do it again.
Rylie pulls back instead, color flagging his cheeks, his mouth slack and wet. “Use your words or I’m stopping.”
The sound I let out is so pathetically needy I want to melt into the mattress, but Rylie grins, dipping his head to my throat with a restrained laugh. I’d push him away to save some of my dignity if his weight didn’t feel so damn good on top of me. I hold him closer instead.
“I haven’t asked anybody for it rough before so I don’t know what I like or how much,” I say in a rush. I keep going, knowing if I stop I’ll never fess up. “All the sex I’ve had is bland and boring and I’m so deep in my own head being worried about making it good for the other person that I’ve never bothered to ask for what I want instead.”
Every relationship I’ve been in, my priority is always to please the other person any way I can, including sex. In my teens and early twenties I devoured every glossy magazine article I could find about what moves I could do to make a man feel good. My desperation to please someone enough to getthem to stick around was my only tangible desire. Why would I bother figuring out my own needs when I was too tied-up figuring out how to make it good for the other person?
Rylie pulls against my grip like he wants to look at me, but I hold him tight against my body. This is easier to say to the ceiling than to his earnest, hungry eyes. “But if we only have tonight, I might as well make sure you don’t fuck it up.”
Rylie laughs, a tiny puff of hot air against my skin that sends a shiver rushing through me.
“Tell me more of what you think you want,” he coaxes, turning his head so his cheek nuzzles against my breast, the sharp stubble making me arch against him. “I want to hear it all.” His fingers trace a lazy path over my rib cage, across my stomach, down my thigh to the back of my knee, then reverses the movement. It’s a soft touch, not desperate or overtly sexual, but it lights me on fire, my legs falling open a bit more.
“I want you to keep touching me,” I choke out.
Rylie laughs again. “That’s a given, sweetheart. You feel too good to stop.”
A broken groan falls out of me, my body bucking beneath him, and I bite my lip.
Rylie pulls back, eyes roving over me until they glint with knowing, his dimple popping out as he smiles. “Do you like that, Eva? Do you like me telling you how fucking perfect you are?”
Another gasp betrays me, every cell in my body sparking to life under the coarse rumble of his words.
Rylie’s grin is downright sinful, and my heart pounds in my chest as he leans to my ear, lips ghosting across my cheeks along the way. “You do. You like it. Now keep being a goodgirl and tell me how rough you want me to be with this beautiful fucking body of yours. I’ll give you anything you want, you just have to ask.” He bites the lobe and my back bows.
“Jesus fucking Christ, please just touch me,” I nearly scream, grabbing his gentle, roving hand and thrusting it between my legs.
The pressure soothes me for a second, but only one, because Rylie snatches his touch away, gripping my hip instead. Quick like a bullet he’s up on his knees, using them to force my legs wider as his other hand grabs my inner thigh then hooks behind my knee, spreading me for him.
He stares for a moment, then licks his lips, eyes tracing up my torso to lock with mine. “I’m starving, baby. Let me taste you instead.”
I garble out something close toplease, my head falling back. Rylie reaches past me, snatching a pillow from the top of the bed.
“Lift your hips, beautiful,” he says gruffly, already raising them for me as he slides the pillow beneath. I find some semblance of strength in my rapidly spiraling body to prop myself up on my elbows, watching as he repositions himself between my legs.
“God, you’re fucking pretty,” he growls as he leans forward, draping both of my thighs over his shoulders in the process. “So fucking wet and needy and soft. I’ve dreamed about you for years, but none of my memories did you justice.”
Before the thought can gain purchase, his mouth is on me, tongue making a dirty, desperate swipe up to my clit. I shudder, whimpering at the shockwave it sends through me, a sensation so intense my thighs try to close around him. My desperationdoesn’t faze him. He makes another leisurely swipe. Then another. Taking his time, tracing every inch of me, circling my entrance then dipping in, lavishing his way up to my clit.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he says against me, more vibrations than voice. His breathing is almost violent, the vault of his rib cage expanding against my thighs with every inhale. He focuses on my clit, eyes meeting mine over the planes of my body as he catalogs every reaction. What pressure makes me writhe and claw at the sheets, the suction that makes me cry out as my thighs tremble against his face, the merciless rhythm of his tongue that has me babbling out his name in desperate pleas, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes as sharp pleasure builds in my pelvis. Rylie pulls back for air, curling his fingers inside me in a way that makes me whimper.
“That’s it. Look how fucking good you’re taking it. So perfect.” His words are muffled, my pussy grinding against him in my wrecked desperation. “Let me hear how badly you want it.”
