“Your rule is to enjoy it. Let me direct. If I want something, I’ll tell you. Just enjoy what happens.”
She frowned. “I never get to lead? Never get to initiate?”
He shook his head. “Not in this. Besides, doesn’t every woman want a man to worship her every moment of every day? To put her at the center of everything?”
She licked her lips. “l agree to the rule.”
Inside, he chuckled. Of course she did. Little did she know that what she’d unleashed would be an all-consuming love of the very best kind.
Without wasting a second, he repositioned himself, and as his lips met hers, he slid inside her, one commanding thrust as deep as he could go.
One hand slid down to her hip, then cradled the outside of her thigh in his palm as he lifted it to guide her leg around his waist. He left it there, holding her tight to him, thrusting and retreating, grinding against her core, and driving her toward orgasm. Each movement was driven by his desire to make her feel like the superwoman she was.
Occasionally, he felt her muscles shift and twitch, as if she wanted to physically respond or direct him, but then remembered she wasn’t allowed to. Pride surged through him. She restrained those impulses, quickly relaxing into a passive state, allowing him to love her and focusing only on how he was making her feel. This wasn’t a natural situation for her, and she would need time to get used to it, but she would.
“Let go, Glennon,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
He waited. Then he waited some more. While he waited, he let his mouth drift over whatever skin he could reach, kneading the muscles that threatened to tense and cramp, until finally her body relaxed.
Too often, the performative aspect of sex made people worry about whether they were doing things right. Were they being sexy enough? Were they touching someone the right way? Were they saying things that spurred their partner on?
He’d always hated how sex became a high-pressure situation. It was part of why he took that away from her. Ultimately, it reduced the pressure and would make them both feel better, literally and figuratively. If she focused on feeling only, she would love it so much more than if she tried to give and receive at the same time.
Glennon could beg. She could scream. She could score her nails down his back or do any other of the typical female moves during sex, but it didn’t guarantee she actually enjoyed what they did. That wasn't telling him how he made her feel. It was yet another instance of her giving in to what she thought she was supposed to do.
No. Not with him. Stop with the theatrics and leave him to do the work. If she wasn’t worried about where to put her hands, what to say, what to do, then he could relax and pay attention to what her body naturally told him.
Like now.
She was warm but not perspiring. That meant the room was comfortable.
She was slick. He’d aroused her. He’d turned her on with his words.
Last night, her eyes had dilated while he was speaking to her. She’d bitten her lip to keep words inside. She’d flushed at particular moments. And they’d happened again while she was floating up from sleep, as well as after waking her. All these things were evidence of what she needed.
Better yet, she was boneless beneath him. She was too enthralled by what he was giving her to hurry herself to completion, or him either. She was present. Right in the moment with him. Nothing outside of that mattered.
Levering himself up into a plank position, he gained the needed leverage to move faster, thrust deeper, grind harder, and twist more precisely. The faster pace and greater pressureelevated her breathing, signaling that her body was working to push blood through her system and increase her lung capacity.
Utilizing the strong balance skills and core muscles he worked so hard at, he left one arm in position as he lowered the other and allowed his thumb to brush across her clit. Swollen, it pushed out from its hood, a sign that the nerves were stimulated and her pleasure was building her to a breaking point.
“That’s it, little spy. Let it feel good.”
Her sounds pitched higher, her body squeezed him tighter, and her eyes began to lose focus.
When she detonated, he fell down onto her, still careful to keep the bulk of his upper body weight off her. With each clench of her inner muscles, his cock pulsed and jetted into the condom he’d put on before he woke her. And as their breathing returned to normal, he kissed her softly, repeatedly. Slight touches of his lips against her hairline, the shell of her ear, her cheekbone, anywhere he could reach. Not hurrying. No real pattern of where he planned to go next. Just touches meant to ease her down and provide her with an anchor so she didn’t drift away into subspace.
When he felt her breathing even out, he once again brushed her hair back on the pillow. “Hi. Welcome back. Feel okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her arms reached up above her head, and she stretched to full extension. He extended his arms along hers, gently kneading each bone, each muscle, to make sure blood was flowing properly.
“I’m going to get you some water. Stay here.”
Gently, he eased off her body and padded to the kitchen, where he disposed of the condom. After quickly wiping himself down and washing his hands, he removed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
When he returned, she was still exactly where he left her. Too blissed out and relaxed to move. He grinned. Job well done on his part. He could always tell her not to move, but it was so much better when her body let itself naturally follow what it needed, which was why he told her things in the first place. Permission to do what was needed without guilt or second-guessing.
