Page 46 of Practice Makes Perfect
“I’d love to,” I say, sliding down her body until my mouth hovers over her nipple. I look up, meeting her eyes. “Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good, OK?”
“OK.”
As I slowly lower my mouth to her breast, Em’s eyes flutter closed, her head pressing back into the pillow.
“Eyes on me,” I say softly, surprising myself with the command. It just slips out.
Her eyes snap open, meeting mine. The flush on her cheeks deepens to a gorgeous scarlet that spreads down her neck toher chest. Something shifts in the air between us—something electric and urgent. But, after a second, she nods, and I get back to work.
I hold her gaze as I take her nipple into my mouth, watching her pupils dilate with desire. Her lips part on a silent gasp. This connection—watching each other as I taste her—feels unexpectedly intimate. More intimate than I planned for our first session.
My tongue circles her nipple, and her hips shift restlessly beneath me. Without breaking eye contact, I slide my thigh between her legs, giving her something to press against. The soft, needy sound she makes sends heat coursing through me.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her skin. “Just feel.”
She responds immediately, her body instinctively seeking friction against my thigh. She’s warm there—hot, actually—and I can feel the dampness of her arousal against my skin. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she rocks against me, her movements tentative at first, then more confident.
“Is this OK?” she whispers, her voice tight with pleasure and uncertainty.
“More than OK,” I assure her. “You’re doing great.”
I take her nipple between my lips again, this time flicking my tongue across the sensitive peak. Her hips buck against my thigh in response. My hands move down to grip her hips, which fit perfectly in my palms—like they were tailor-made for my grip.
It’s getting harder to focus on taking things slow. Every soft moan, every roll of her hips against my thigh, drives me closer to the edge of my control. But this isn’t about me—it’s about Em feeling safe, comfortable, turned on, and ready to take each step before we do.
“Thank you,” she whispers, reaching up to stroke my cheek. “For being patient. For the syllabus.” A smile tugs at her lips. “For making me feel safe.”
Instead of answering, I kiss her nipple again—slow and thorough. Her body melts against mine, and I can feel her relaxing into the sensation, her earlier nervousness fading. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer as our legs tangle beneath the sheets.
We stay like that, trading kisses, our hands exploring with growing confidence. I keep mine above her waist, respecting the boundaries she’s set, even as my body aches for more. But that doesn’t stop her rubbing herself against my thigh like she needs it.
It’s strange how quickly I’ve become addicted to the taste of her, the feel of her skin against mine. What started as a simple arrangement now feels like something I could happily spend days doing—just learning the contours of her body, the sounds she makes when I find a sensitive spot.
That’s when the bedroom door swings open.
twelve
EM
“OH MY GOD!”Lea’s voice cuts through the room like a siren.
In a knee-jerk panic, I bolt upright, which has the unexpected consequence of jamming Linc’s teeth right into my nipple. I shriek, clutching my chest as a sharp pain radiates through my breast.
“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Lea gasps from the doorway, her hand flying to cover her eyes. “I didn’t—I thought—door’s closing!”
The door slams shut with a bang that probably alerts the entire floor to our situation. I collapse back against the pillow, pain warring with mortification as I cup my injured breast. My poor nipple throbs beneath my palm like it’s developing its own heartbeat.
“Oh my god, Em. I’m so sorry.” Linc’s face is a mask of horrified concern as he hovers over me. “Are you OK? Do you need a Band-Aid? Are you bleeding? This has literally never happened to me before. I’ve never bitten anyone’s—I mean, not accidentally?—”
I peek under my hand to assess the damage. “I don’t think I’m bleeding.”
He gently moves my hand, then winces. “It’s… definitely red. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I mutter. “Blame my fight-or-flight reflexes.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “Shit, and it was going so well…”
The horror of Lea walking in is starting to sink in. “Did she see everything?”
