Page 35 of The Ruckup
Now I stop her, grabbing Maddie’s other wrist with my free hand. “I already know you're a good thing. You don’t have to do any convincing.”
Maddie stares up at me, chin lifting the tiniest bit as she says, “Maybe I just want to touch you now and was too shy to come out and say it.”
Shit. That might be even worse than her thinking she needs to convince me she’s a good thing. Because I’m not great at denying Maddie Miller anything she wants.
“You don’t have to be shy around me.” I shake my head. “Not ever.”
A soft smile teases the corners of her mouth. “I know that, but it’s hard.” She rubs her lips together, those pretty eyes dropping straight to my suffering dick. “Does that mean I can touch you?”
I have to force air into my lungs, trying to breathe through the need coursing through me. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone to touch me as much as I want to feel her hands on my skin. But there’s a problem. One I’m not sure how to communicate without sounding like I’m pushing for something.
“You can touch me anytime you want.” I have to tighten my hold on her wrists when she immediately tries to reach for me. “But there’s something I need you to know.” I pause, working through the different ways I can phrase this. I end up just cutting to the chase. “I can’t really get off unless you’re getting off too.”
I’m sure it can be traced to how fucked-up I find my parents’ marriage. How disgusted I am by the imbalance there.
How much I want to prove I’m a giver, not a taker.
Maddie seems confused by my statement. Her dark brows pinch together. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you can touch me whenever you want, but I don’t want you to be disappointed if it seems like I’m not responding the way you expect.”
I never anticipated my need to be giving enjoyment in order to find enjoyment myself would be as big of a problem as it has ended up being. I’ve had women think I don’t like them. They’ve gotten offended. Sometimes even annoyed. All because I don’t get off unless they get off.
I can understand how that puts an extra amount of pressure on them. Creates a performance anxiety of sorts. I’ve tried explaining I don’t care if I get off, but it hasn’t seemed to be believable.
Which makes me wonder what the fuck other men are doing in their bedrooms.
Maddie swallows, the line of her neck flexing as her eyes bounce from my face to my cock. “So you can’t…”
I wait for her to finish, but her cheeks flush and her lips remain sealed. So I take a guess at what she was about to say.
“Come unless you come?” I tip my head from side to side, trying to tally the accuracy of that statement. “Pretty much. Probably at least eighty percent of the time.”
“Oh.” The word rushes out on breath. “What about when you—” Again, she stops short.
And again, I finish for her. “Jack off?” I grin a little when the pink on her cheeks deepens. “That’s different.”
If no one else is involved, then there’s nothing to prove. The goal is singular, independent, and self-serving.
“Well.” Maddie’s blush holds, but she easily meets my gaze. “I guess I can work with that.”
I think I understand what she’s saying, but I want complete clarity. “Which means?”
Maddie inhales shakily, and I see the hesitancy. I see how difficult it is for her to say what she wants. I hope that will get better with time. That she’ll learn she doesn’t ever have to hold back with me. Whatever she wants, I’ll give it to her.
“We can just eat breakfast and forget about all of this.” I lift one of her hands to brush my lips against the inside of her wrist. “Circle back la?—”
“You can get me off.” Maddie blurts out the words. “But I want to get you off too this time.”
My dick flexes against the thin fabric of my pajama pants at her offer, balls already pulling tight at the opportunity to watch her fall apart again.
And this time it will be inmyhouse.
“I think we can make that happen.” I release her hands, but it’s more for my sake than hers. I want to touch her. Remind Maddie how good I can make her feel. “Last time there were rules. Are they still the same?”
Maddie’s head quickly shakes, her movements jerky as I slide one finger into the waistband of her sleep shorts. “No rules.”
My movements stop. “No rules?”
