And so, to avoid the humiliation of having him call my bluff, I let him do it his way.
“Your loss,” I say to sugarcoat my capitulation. “We won’t be able to caress each other at the same time.”
He sets a hand on my hip and slowly moves it to my tummy and farther down, his fingers pressing into my flesh, his touch electrifying me.
“We’ll take turns caressing.” He slides his fingertips under the waistband of my panties.
“Uh-huh.”
Suddenly, his progress comes to a halt. “You’re on the pill, right?”
“No.”
He says nothing, but I know what he’s wondering.How were you planning to do it with Doc?
“Condoms,” I say. “That was my first and firmest requirement. My sine qua non. He committed to always using one.”
“Did you expect him to keep his word?”
“He swore on his father’s grave… I told him that if he wanted unprotected sex, he’d have to kill me first.”
“I don’t have a condom,” he says.
“Then we’ll have to do it like teenagers.”
He lets out a laugh. “You mean dry humping?”
“I mean no penetration.”
“Agreed.”
I realize something, shocked that it’s an afterthought. “We’re in a stranger’s cabin, inside a stranger’s sleeping bag.”
“It looked clean,” he says. “But you’re right. Hygiene is a valid concern, as valid as not repeating my father’s mistakes.”
Say what?
I don’t get a chance to ask him to elaborate, because at long last, his hand resumes its descent into my panties. As it nestles between my legs, cupping me, I forget everything else. A shaky sigh of delight escapes my lips.
Theo plays with my curls for a moment. My clit is dying for attention, but his finger moves past it to trail up and down the slit and dip inside. He stops again.
I grunt, displeased, grinding against his fingers.
But instead of getting the message, he removes his hand and takes it all the way to his mouth.
“You really are wet,” he says, disbelief in his voice.
I crane my head backward as much as I can in this position. “What did you expect?”
He returns his finger to my core and probes again. “You’re drenched.”
Why is he acting like it’s something weird?“And you’re rock-hard,” I say. “But I don’t make a big deal of it, do I?”
A second long finger plunges in. “So, your moans are genuine, huh?”
“Do I look like someone who would bother faking it?
“No, you don’t,” he admits. “Look, it’s not you, it’s me. I’m so… My face is so…”
