"That's okay. You don't have to know right now."
He stands, setting the vibrator carefully on the nightstand. Not taking it with him. Leaving it there for me.
"Get some rest," he says, moving toward the door. "We'll talk tomorrow."
"Wait."
He pauses, turning back.
"That was—" I struggle to find words, my thoughts still scattered and fuzzy. "I've never?—"
"I know."
"Does it always feel like that?"
Something dangerous flickers across his face. "When done right? Yes. Sometimes even better."
Better?
I can't imagine better.
Can't imagine anything more intense than what just happened.
"Goodnight, Eden."
Then he's gone, the door closing softly behind him.
I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming with aftershocks.
He touched me.
Well—sort of.
He used the vibrator on me, over my clothes, nothing direct, nothing that crossed the lines he promised not to cross.
And it felt?—
God.
It felt incredible.
I should feel ashamed.
Should feel disgusted with myself.
Should be horrified that I let him do that, that I let myself feel that, that I liked it so much I couldn't hide my response.
But I don't feel ashamed.
I feel... curious.
Wondering if it would feel the same if I did it myself.
Wondering what else my body can do.
Wondering what "even better" means.
Wondering if that was just the beginning of something bigger.
