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“What kind of stuff?”

“I mean, I know the positions are possible. Well, most of them.” I frown. There are definitely a few I’ve wondered about, but I like to just suspend my disbelief and enjoy the story, so I try not to dwell. “But things like men who can find the clit every time easily, and who can make a woman orgasm every time, and I know multiple orgasms are fictional.”

He doesn’t say anything.

So, of course, I keep going.

“Anyway, just know that I don’t have super high, crazy, unrealistic expectations here,” I tell him. I run a hand up and down his arm. “I really like you. So much. And I’m more attracted to you than I’ve ever been to anyone else. And I’m really into this. I know it’s going to be great. And I can definitely coach you through giving me an orgasm.”

He studies my face, then a grin slowly curls his mouth and grows. He nods. “I think that’s an amazing idea. I can’t wait to hear every single instruction.”

I smile. I love that he’s not insulted or intimidated by this.

He leans in and kisses me again. It’s slow and deep this time, and I lose myself in the heat.

His hand starts brushing back and forth across my stomach, and I feel heat curl through my belly, spreading to my pussy, making me wet and needy. My clit tingles and aches, and I need pressure there. And friction.

I wiggle and arch my hips, but instead, Lawson's hand slides upward, cupping one breast.

Oh, that’s nice too. He kneads gently, then sweeps his thumb over my nipple. Sparks seemed to shoot from there straight through my torso to my clit that really wants his attention.

I moan, and he does it again, this time with a little more pressure. I arch closer, and he takes my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently.

I pull my mouth away from his so that I can gasp. “Lawson.”

“Is that good?” His voice is low and husky.

Even that makes everything tingle.

“Oh yes.”

I sometimes play with my nipples, and they are sensitive, but I give my clit a lot of attention.

He slides his hand under the cup of my bra, tugging it down and cupping my bare breast.

“Oh, God,” I gasp.

It’s been a long time since anyone touched my bare anything.

“God, your tits are so sweet and perfect,” he says, brushing his thumb over the peak again.

“More,” I coax.

He thumbs it again, then plucks at it.

“Your mouth,” I pant.

“That’s my girl,” he praises.

That, too, makes the heat curl low and deep. But that’s nothing compared to when he fastens his mouth onto that nipple, licking and sucking. I feel my inner muscles pull tight instantly, my clit throbbing.

“Oh. God. Yes.”

“Need to see more of you,” he says, roughly, shifting so he can reach behind me and unhook my bra, tossing it to the floor.

He braces himself over me for a moment, his hot gaze taking me in.

I feel gorgeous. I’ve never felt that way before. I’ve been with guys who are attracted to me, of course, but it’s been a while, and I think I’m considered more cute or pretty than gorgeous.