Page 61 of My Turn Petal
The primal fucker within me enjoys this way too much. I can eat her for hours.
“F-fuck. Y-yess.” She stammers. “F-feels so—”
I eat her up, my hands digging into her inner thigh and tickling her delicate flesh when I release it abruptly to tease her.
The odor of her arousal hardens my already combusting cock.
I lock my teeth around her clit and suck her hard. She shakes. I pull the belt hard. Her climax flares up and I’m there to hold her through it until it ends in a blissful smile.
I release the belt and chuck it to the floor.
“I’m a starving man, petal.” I tease her sensitive clit with a tiny stroke of my tongue.
I look away from her pussy to her post-orgasmic face as I let my finger caress her opening.
“I can take you like a good girl,” Those hopeful eyes infiltrate mine, “Try pushing your finger inside.”
“Petal…” I voice my concern, “Are you sure? You will stop me if you need to?”
“Yes, just for once I want to try.” Her determined tone tricks me but the scenarios assaulting my mind keep pushing their way in.
“You can take me, just look at me.” My encouraging words relax her features.
But her eyes glint with fear and hope. I see through her well-crafted disguise even outside these walls. She’s terrified as the tip of my finger pushes its way in.
Using my thumb over her clit, I try to push it deeper.
“Withdraw and try again.” She gasps the sentence.
The cry for help in her undertone makes it hard for me to digest. I do as she instructs me. Only this time it’s harder to get within the entrance, but, I manage to slowly get inside due to her wetness and by massaging her clit.
“Again,” she orders.
I pull away and start the process once more.
“Fuck, Theo.”
The closer I get to her ring of nerves her face pales.
The realization strikes like the last time it happened in her bathroom. She is panicking. Her body gives warning signs and I’d be damned if I’ll let our trials traumatize her further. Knowing she won’t tell me those words, I extract my finger.
My instincts scream at me to soothe her. Shelter her from the ache growing within her. Encapsulate her from the flooding frustration.
I need her to see that the thoughts condemning her mind are not what her body is. She can adjust. She can take it. She can be pleasured the way she wants. Then again, I can’t force her into something she isn’t ready for. I need her to get to that bridge and in due time she will cross it.
Leaning to the side, I catch the bottle of water from the nightstand and hand it to her. She gulps a few rounds as I check between her legs for any sign of bleeding.
No blood.
Placing the bottle aside, tears shimmer in her eyes.
“Let it all out.” I crawl on my knees, draping my legs on each side of her hips. My arms barricade her while I cup her face and wipe her tears.
She sniffles, the pain reflects in her beautiful olive-green eyes.
She’s scared.
It all comes down to the psychological side of her condition. In most cases, according to the research I did, the reason behind vaginismus is psychological and has nothing to do with a dysfunctional body. Or a broken one for that matter. The deep underline is much deeper and the cause could be unknown.
