“It’s not your responsibility to solve all my problems in bed.” I glance at the floor. “I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I’m worried you’ll start to think I’m taking advantage of you.”
My breath hitches as Walker drops to his knees before me.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I stammer, lifting my foot to step back, but his hands settle on my hips, keeping me in place.
“I want you to,” he states, a dark edge to his tone.
I swallow hard. “Want me to what?”
“Use me—for your pleasure, to live out your every fantasy, to chase the rush of your first orgasm. All. Of. It.” Walker’s hand slides along my hip bone, tugging my tank top up just enough to reveal the curve of my abdomen. “All you have to do is ask, and I’m here to serve you.”
He peppers kisses along my stomach, and I clutch his shoulders to stay upright.
A ripple of fire spreads through my veins as his eyes lift to meet mine, seeming to pierce straight through every defense I’ve built.
He nudges my tank higher, his mouth trailing along my skin, and a soft moan escapes me as he drags his tongue up my torso, leaving goose bumps in its wake. I’m lost in a haze of lust and can barely form a coherent thought as he teases me with the promise of what’s to come if I allow him to take control, and trust that he’ll take care of me.
I’m hit with the harsh reality that if I don’t fully embrace this, I’ll never get the results I want from these lessons—and in the process, I could risk pushing Walker away, which terrifies me. I’ve grown more attached to him than I ever thought possible, and I can’t bear the thought of losing the open line of communication that we didn’t have before. Especially now that I’ve felt his hands all over me and know how his touch can makeme ache in ways I’ve never experienced. It’s time to stop sending mixed signals, be brave, and quit holding back.
He peppers several kisses just below my bra, careful not to go any higher, his hands still firm on my hips.
“Walker?” I rasp.
He glances up at me. “Yeah, Birdie, baby?”
“Don’t stop touching me.”
He smirks. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“I want you to help me come for the first time… please.”
His warm breath teases my skin. “Does that mean you’re done hiding from me?”
I nod.
“I need to hear you say it, pretty girl.”
“No more hiding,” I say as I hold his gaze.
The declaration feels more significant than it should, like crossing into dangerous territory, where our no-strings arrangement could transform into something real, beyond keeping up a charade for the sake of appearances and mutual convenience.
He brushes a final kiss to my breastbone before tugging my tank down and rising to his feet, forcing me to stifle a frustrated moan in the absence of his touch.
“Where’s your vibrator?”
“Uh, in the trash bin… in my room.”
Walker motions in that direction. “Will you show me?”
His words are measured, gauging whether I’m truly ready to take this to the next step.
I am.
I study him closely, noting the way his chest heaves and the hunger burning in his eyes. Every muscle taut, his restraint hanging by a thread, and it’s clear he wants this as much as I do.
“Yeah, I will,” I say.
Before I lose my courage, I motion for him to follow me down the hall, not bothering to look back—confident that he will. I move on autopilot, heat pooling low in my belly, and intensifying with each step, until even breathing feels like an impossible task. Before I know it, I’m standing next to the trash can by my bed, staring down at the vibrator I tossed earlier.
