“About that tattoo,” I start. He doesn’t expect it when I give him a sudden shove, but I’m not foolish enough to think it makes him fall back onto the couch behind him. He made that happen as much as I did.
I lift my dress higher on my thighs, which he observes with interest, and then straddle him. His hands instantly come to rest over my hips, his smirk carnivorous.
“By the way, that’s sex music,” he explains.
“Is it?” Frowning slightly, I focus on the music instead. The rhythm is slow, knowing, and I guess I can see how it can be sensuous, too. That’s not music for rough sex though. It’s a song for lascivious sex. Which I’m very fine with. “I suppose it is. Another item we’ll tick tonight.”
He eagerly welcomes my lips, his hands grasping me tightly as I ravish him. I swerve and grind on top of him while my tongue samples his, subconsciously following the song’s tempo. Time slows, nothing exists but him for several moments, and I don’t register it right away when he speaks into our kiss.
“Love, wait,” he groans, gently pushing me away. “I was wondering. Why are you doing this?”
Still seated on him and very aware of his erection below me, I stare at him confusingly. “I told you. I have a list.”
“Yes, I know. But why are you going through it now? What compelled you to?”
“Why does it matter?”
His hand rises to my face, and he tucks a loose red strand behind my ear. “I just want to understand you a little better, what pushed you to meet me, and what keeps you coming back.”
My chest tightens at the thought of telling him. He’s been doing all the work, so he hasn’t realized how unimaginative I am in bed. But he will eventually notice because that can only go undetected for so long.
Which is why I have to tell him. It’s better if I’m honest and it doesn’t suddenly become clear to him. And while it’s a nerve-racking thing to admit, knowing we’re not anything serious helps. I’m not trying to bag him and keep him close for the rest of my life. We’re just having casual sex, and we’ll part ways as soon as we’re bored with one another.
Something that might happen for him much sooner than it will for me. But that’s alright.
I always knew what I signed up for.
Chapter Fourteen
Jake
Gen looks torn and uncertain. The passionate and eager woman writhing on my lap moments ago is gone. And I’m a fucking idiot for ruining the mood.
My hands are still planted on her hips, and I consider making them roll on top of me again so we can return to what we were doing and dismiss my stupid question. When she meets my eyes again with her magnificent blue ones, I read all the insecurities and doubts she harbors.
“My boyfriend dumped me the day I made that dating app profile,” she carefully starts. “We were together for five years, and he left like it meant nothing.”
Well, the man was a fucking moron for letting her go. How blind can someone be to leave such a woman? “So, what? You’re trying to get over him? Doing all the things he never tried with you?”
She shakes her head, and I see her throat bob as she swallows hard. To offer her some comfort and distraction, I slip my hands up her thighs—under the smooth fabric of her pretty dress. When she shivers on top of me, I’m glad to see the mood isn’t completely gone.
“I—When he left, he told me I sucked in bed, that I was boring,” she confesses, looking away before she can finish.
Now I’m getting pissed at the arsehole. Her? Boring? I don’t remember having this much fun in my life. Fucking her has been brilliant, way better than a lot of my past experiences. Carefully, I take her chin, which slightly wobbles, between my thumb and index, forcing her to look up.
“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have brought you home if you were boring.”
Her eyes widen, but doubt doesn’t leave them entirely. “That’s because you’ve been doing all the work. All I do is lie there, or stand, or get on all fours. And you make it all happen.”
“Okay, I see the point you’re trying to make, red, but I reckon you’re still pretty spectacular. You’re responsive, vocal, passionate, uninhibited… You give back as much as you can, even if I’m a domineering prick who doesn’t leave you much room to do it. You’re not bad or boring in bed. Quite the opposite.”
Her eyes are glassy, but not a tear spills over, which I take as an encouragement to keep going. “Tell you what, love. Tonight, I’m not doing anything. Tonight, you’re the one in charge, the one who does the fucking.”
My suggestion does the opposite of what I intended, and she looks even more uncertain, almost panicked. “What if Iamboring, and you never want to see me again?”
The notion is so absurd that I can’t hold back my laughter. “Red, where do you get these ideas? Can’t you see that there’s no way I won’t thoroughly enjoy whatever you do to me?” I ask, thrusting up so she can feel without a doubt how much I want her.
Her eyelids flutter, her cheeks flushing bright pink. Because it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, I push her hair back to admire the tips of her ears turning red. Fuck, everything about her is so endearing.
