“That’s all right.” The toy rumbled in his hand. “I’ve never watched.”
“How do you know you want to?”
“Iknow.” His gaze darkened. I swallowed hard. “Gennie is down at the goat pen. It’s milking time.”
The whir of the dual-headed vibrator was so loud. Like a wind turbine. Like a jet engine. “That’s probably going to take an hour or two. Right?”
“At least an hour.” His gaze swung between me and the toys.
After an interminably long minute, he moved toward the small desk tucked up against the wall, in front of the window. He grabbed the desk chair and positioned it backward at the foot of the bed. He set the vibes on the duvet, one of them still buzzing like a very clear, very crucial invitation. For I couldn’t even begin to contemplate this without the granite-carved clarity of that invitation. I couldn’t do the things I did with those toys while Noah watched unless I knew—I believed in every last cell of my body—that he wanted this without question.
He dropped into the chair and folded his arms over the back. Tipping his head to the side, he asked, “Isn’t there something you’d like to show me?”
I blinked at him until I stopped thinking of all the problems with this plan. Then I dug in one of my bags until I found the item I needed. I held it out to him. “That one too.”
Noah studied the deep red toy in the shape of a rose, and dark grooves of confusion immediately lined his forehead. “What does this—” He ran his thumb over the petals. “How is it—”
Before I could talk myself out of it, I stripped off my clothes and snatched up the rose. “You’ll see.”
He dropped his chin to his forearms and watched with a cool stare as I climbed on the bed. I didn’t know where to put myself. Most of the time, I used these toys under the sheets. No thought went into positions or perspectives. I didn’t care what it looked like. There was no one judging the thickness of my thighs when I spread them gratuitously wide or the way my belly jiggled as I chased an orgasm. There was no one watching and that was the precise reason I could do those things.
Suddenly I wasn’t sure I could do them without the confidence that came with being alone. With knowing the only thing that mattered was making myself feel good.
“Down here,” he said with a nod toward the end of the bed. “Bring the pillows with you. I want to be able to see your face while you—” He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything else.
My inner thighs quivered as I settled on the bottom half of the bed, several pillows under my head and my bare feet resting on the footboard. I clutched the rose vibe hard in my hand and pinched my knees together. This felt dirty in a weird, new way. It wasn’t entirely comfortable. It was awkward and a bit unsettling. If I thought about it for any time at all, I’d convince myself I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to demonstrate the proper use of sex toys while my husband watched. I didn’t want him to know how I touched myself when I was alone. If I thought about it, I could convince myself that Ishouldn’twant the overwhelming arousal that coursed through me like a fever.
Instead of thinking, I switched on the rose. The suction made a low, bubbling hum. It competed with the vibrator rumbling beside me and I decided that the noise was necessary. I could sink into the sound and let it drown out everything else. Let it drown out the growls and gasps from Noah. The sigh that slipped from my lips when I spread my legs and nudged the rose to my clit.
With my free hand, I held myself open as I worked the rose into the right position. It required a bit of finesse, but when I got there it was always worth it.Always.
“It’s for—” Noah cleared his throat again. “It does something. To your clit.”
“Mmmm.” No longer concerned with the appearance of my thighs in this position, I let my knees fall all the way open. “It sucks me.”
“Better than I do?”
I met his gaze down the length of my naked body. He held it a second before glancing between my legs and then back up, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Different.”
“How? Explain it to me.”
I shuddered when the toy started knotting the strings of an orgasm together. I wasn’t there yet but getting close. “You’re warm and soft, and you—ohhhh, fuck—you bite me.” I trailed my fingers down to where I was wet and clenching, teasing just outside my core. “This is hard. It’s aggressive. It bosses my clit around until it comes.”
“Which do you like better?”
“It’s not a competition,” I chided. “I like this when I don’t have anyone to lick my clit.”
Honestly, I had no idea where these words were coming from. They weren’t coming from me. I don’t talk about sex or my body this way. I didn’t possess the language to do this.
“It’s a good thing you live here now,” he said, his tone rough and strained. “I’ll lick you any time you want.”
He rested his cheek on his folded arms, his gaze still locked between my thighs. I reached for the vibrator beside me. A strangled noise rattled in the back of his throat. I pressed it to my opening and let my eyes shut as the sensations spiraled through me.
“How close are you?”
“Close,” I whispered.
“What happens after? Are you done or do you keep playing?”
