At heart, she was a rule breaker.
Who else would try to conceive a child in this way? Who else would choose, or accept, a guy so different from her own mindset? This was a woman who pushed boundaries, in her work, in her life, in her mind. She had enjoyed our caper, and I suspected she might be willing to cross another line and enjoy it a little more.
“You want me to … watch?”
She didn’t sound horrified. More … curious. That was the scientist talking.
I hoped it was also the woman thinking.
Either way, I took it as encouragement and plowed onward. “Is that something you might be interested in?”
The slender column of her throat bulged on a swallow. Rather than answer my question, she posed one of her own. “Would it help you achieve orgasm?”
I could feel my mouth kicking up at the corners. “Yes, Francesca, it would help. Not that I had problems before, but I think I might produce a bigger output if I had someone else participating.”
Sure, let’s use the science as our excuse.
“What kind of participation would you expect?”
That’s more like it. Ever the investigator.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with. You can sit in that armchair and watch. Or put that scarf over your eyes and listen. You can sit on the bed and touch me. You can wrap that dainty hand of yours around my cock and stroke.”
With each escalation, color crept into her cheeks, and her breathing became more ragged.
“Or you could stay in the bathroom with your headphones on and imagine what I’m doing. Like last time.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have no idea what I was doing last time.”
“Sipping tea and stroking your pussy … cat.”
She gave a silent huff of laughter. Another thing about the professor … she enjoyed a dirty joke.
“Would you expect me to reciprocate? Have you present when I complete my part?”
“Not unless you want that. I recognize it’s a special thing for you, a ritual of sorts, and I don’t want to interfere with that. It’s not a quid pro quo. I just think it would be hotter if I could jerk off in your presence.”
She licked her lips. “Okay. Uh, let me get the supplies from the bathroom.”
While she did that, I peeled off my jacket and tee. When she returned with the lotion in one hand and the sample cup in the other, I was already pushing my sweats down.
She ran her eyes over my body. “I saw you in one of those holiday calendars once.”
“Yeah, did that a few years ago. I’ve had a few injuries since.” Appendix removal, hip surgery.
“You look better now. More … rugged.” Her voice turned to gravel on that last word. She placed the lotion, tissues, and cup on the side table. “Are you sure you want me here?”
“Francesca, nothing would give me more pleasure.” My cock had already started swelling as soon as she laid her hands on my chest, and now I was in “intriguing bulge” territory.
Her gaze dipped to my underwear, the cotton straining with my erection—I mean, how could it not? I was turned on. She had turned me on, and she had to have known the power she had over me.
Another dart of her tongue over her lips. “What do you need me to do?”
“What do you want to do?” I didn’t want to put any pressure on her. She could have said no, especially once I started stripping, but she was here. Still. Because she wanted to be.
I was banking on her wanting more than just watching.
“Could I touch you?” she asked.
