Her hands lift, though I can still feel them shaking as they move to the back of my neck.
More.
She needs more. She needs something to counter the panic, something to snap her out of it quickly.
Without thinking, I shift her, settling her on my lap until she’s straddling me. I slide a hand up beneath the hem of her dress, my hand moving over the smooth skin of her thigh, and her body stills again. When she pulls back, her pupils are still blown, still hazy with the panic attack lingering, but hopefully, I can make them hazy in a different way soon.
“Leo, what are—” she asks.
“Do you trust me?” A moment passes, a single moment in time before my heart explodes with her nod.
“Of course,” she says, and I press my lips to her in favor of biting back the groan that wants to leave my lips at her sweet trust in me. As I kiss her, I slide my hand up, shifting until I press my thumb against her clit over her panties. I’m not sure what her reaction will be or whether she’ll go with my plan. Her system is already on high alert, cortisol running through her body, but when her hips tip towards me, I can’t help but smile as I drop my head to her neck. “What are you doing?” she whispers,and the panic in my own chest eases when the words sound less panicked.
“You’re having a panic attack. You need a hit of dopamine and endorphins, and I’m going to make it happen.” My thumb moves in circles over her slit, and she lets out a heavy breath. “You’re gonna have to make this quick, but I know you can come for me fast, can’t you?” I murmur. I’m pleased when she doesn’t argue like she did that first night, telling me she can’t do that.
She knows that she can.
“I think so,” she breaths, her hips shifting. I read about this once, that you can trick your brain out of the fight or flight that comes with an orgasm, but obviously never had a need to test it out.
Until now.
“That’s my good girl.” My thumb continues to move over her clit, and my middle finger presses into her panties over her entrance, teasing her. I note when the stiffness of her panic attack leaves her body and a new tightening enters as I press her clit in hard, rough circles, which I know from a lot of testing that she likes most of all, her hips bucking as it builds, fast and quick. I desperately want to sink into her, but we don’t have time.
We don’t even have time for this, but I’m making time for it.
“Leo,” she whispers, and when I look up at her, her face is dazed but in a much better way now.
“I know, honey. Let go. Let me take care of you.”
She bucks again, a breath, leaving her lips, her eyes fluttering shut.
“You look so fucking pretty like this, all done up as your pretty princess version, but being my little slut.”
“Yes, yes,” she whispers, head nodding. I feel her clench along the tip of my middle finger and decide to give her a little more, to tip the scale. My middle finger moves, sliding along theseam of her underwear and then sliding under. She’s soaked, and I bite back a rough groan.
“You like that, don’t you? You like it when I call you my little slut?” I murmur, my forehead to hers, and she nods, breath hitching as I slide my middle finger into her, my thumb still roughly circling her clit. “That’s because you were made for me, Willa Stone,” I breath, and that’s what does it.
That’s what has her teeth sinking into her lips. Her head tipping back as her body quakes over me, tightening around my finger as she comes silently in my lap. I hate that she’s swallowing her sounds, but it just means I’ll have to make sure she’s even louder next time. I wait until she comes down from her orgasm before sliding my hand out from between her legs and rearranging her. I brush her hair back and rub a finger over her lips, but her makeup is still perfect.
The light is also back in her eyes, which is the real relief.
“What was that?” she asks with a small laugh. I grin wide.
What it was, was risk. Stupid, and idiotic.
But I don’t care about that right now. I couldn’t care about it when that blank look was on her face, and I can’t care about it now.
“How do you feel?” I ask, and I’m pleased when instead of brushing me off, she takes a moment, seeming to take stock of her body and her feelings before grinning at me.
“Amazing. But what was that for?” she asks, a goofy smile on her lips.
“Are you calm?” Her eyes widen in disbelief.
“That was to calm me down?”
“You were having a panic attack. You needed a distraction, and orgasms release endorphins and dopamine to counter the cortisol from panic.”
“How do you know that?” she asks, furrowing her brows.
