Page 38 of Take Me to Church
“Lydia.” I grit my teeth as she rubs into me again. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.” The admission is just as soft and sweet as she is. “You want me to stop?”
I should. I should send her back down the hall to the safety of my room, far enough away I won’t be tempted to touch her. But if yesterday proved anything, it's that I'm not as good of a man as I pretend I am.
“What I want is for you to take your panties off so I can feel how wet you get when you dream of me.”
Lydia makes a sharp little squeak of surprise but doesn’t ask how I know I was the subject of whatever blessed fantasy her mind worked up.
I hold my breath, waiting silently to see if I’ve crossed the line, even though I’m sure I have.
The question is, will Lydia cross it with me.
A few heartbeats later, I have my answer. The hand gripping my middle slowly slides away and her fingers dip into the waistband of the simple cotton panties around her hips. She drags them down her legs, kicking them away before going still beside me. “I don’t know what I should do now.”
“Now you do whatever makes you feel good.” I still won’t touch her unless she asks me to. If she just wants to continue using me, that’s fine. But if she wants more, I’m more than ready to accommodate.
“I don’t know what makes me feel good.” Lydia pinches her lower lip between her teeth, lids hanging heavy as her eyes rest on my chest, refusing to lift any higher.
I reach out to slide one hand through her hair, pushing it back and curling it behind one ear. I can’t not touch her right now, but if she wants anything more than the most chaste of contact, she will have to ask.
And I hope like hell she does.
“That’s a damn shame. You deserve to feel good.” I lean in and rest my lips against the top of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her as I try to calm my rapidly fraying control. “You deserve to know it’s okay to take what you need.”
I know what she’s been taught—what every woman in the IGL has been taught—that sex is something they provide, not something they experience. A woman who seeks sexual satisfaction is considered wanton. Loose. A creator of lust and sin.
Lydia whimpers again. The sound is pure frustration and probably the result of a lifetime of neglecting her body’s needs. “There’s never been anyone to take from.” Lydia shifts around, rubbing her legs together in an attempt to find relief from an ache I desperately want to take care of for her.
“Then you give it to yourself.” I lower my voice, shifting until my lips brush against her ear. “It’s okay to make yourself feel good, Lydia. I promise.”
As much as I want to touch her, I want to offer her liberation more. Freedom from the confines of a belief built on bullshit and male domination.
Lydia shakes her head. “I can’t.”
She sounds defeated. Broken.
I fucking hate it. I hate that she’s never been given power over her own body. That she's been taught her primary purpose is pleasing men and her own happiness and satisfaction should be secondary, or worse, nonexistent.
“You can.” I trace along her jaw and down the slope of her neck. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
I almost point out she caught me doing the same exact thing last night, but that might open a can of worms I’m not yet ready to dig into. Not when I’d so much rather focus on her.
“I’m not ashamed.” She’s restless beside me and the constant brush of her body against mine is driving me absolutely fucking insane. “I’m scared.”
The admission offers a possibility I never considered. After a lifetime of being told how to feel about sex and all the ways it could send a person to hell, even my own perspective was a little fucked up. And I had been taught sex was my right. Something I would have access to whenever I wanted.
But Lydia, and the rest of the women like her, were taught it was their burden to bear. She’s had to come to terms with not just one complete change in her way of thinking about sex, but two.
“What are you afraid of?” I stroke down the bare skin of her arm, following a path from her shoulder to her wrist. “Are you afraid you’ll like it?”
She shakes her head again, but this time her eyes meet mine. “I’m afraid I won’t.” She carefully rests one of her hands against my side, barely touching me. “I’m afraid they ruined me and I will always see it the way they said I should.”
I didn’t think it was possible for me to hate her father and the rest of the men in the IGL any more than I already do, but I was wrong. If they were in front of me right now, every single one of them would meet the same fate as Rodney, explaining their untimely demise to whatever maker they believe in.
“That won’t happen.” I don’t have much faith left, but what little I retain I am willing to put into Lydia. Somehow she’s managed to stay her same, sweet self while escaping a life that wouldn’t serve her. Not only that, she’s doing whatever it takes to offer her sister the same opportunity by standing up to the same men she was conditioned to bow down to.
“It might.” Lydia takes a shaky breath. “I’m scared it will.”
