There was sensation.
A gentle buzzing that felt pleasant in an abstract, distant way.
But not the overwhelming, consuming, mind-erasing pleasure from three nights ago.
Not the building tension that made my back arch and my breath catch.
Not the incredible release that left me trembling and gasping.
Just... buzzing.
I adjusted the angle.
Tried different pressures, different movements, different positions.
Lay on my back, on my side, propped up against the pillows.
Spent an hour trying to make my body respond the way it had with Vaughn.
An hour of frustration building with every failed attempt.
Because it should work, shouldn't it?
It's the same vibrator, the same setting, the same body.
The mechanics should be identical.
But they're not.
Because the variable isn't the vibrator or the setting or even my body.
It'shim.
Finally, I gave up.
Put the vibrator away with shaking hands.
Lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry from pure frustration.
Because apparently even this—even my own pleasure, even this one thing that was supposed to be mine, that the books said belonged to me and me alone—I can't do without him.
My body won't respond the same way.
Won't build to that impossible peak.
Won't give me what I'm craving.
Not without Vaughn's hands guiding the vibrator.
Not without his voice telling me it's okay to let go, that I'm safe, that what I'm feeling is natural and good.
Not without his presence making me feel secure enough to surrender control.
I need him.
The realization hits me hard.
I need him to feel pleasure.
