“Anyway,” she drawls as if to say I’d taken her off track and not to do it again, “I was all in. But then we got down to it, and he basically…er…”
I can almost hear her embarrassment.
“He didn’t get the job done?” I offer wryly.
She huffs out a laugh. “It was just so fast. Jab, jab, jab, strangled cry, done!”
Despite myself, I laugh too. “Pretty sure that’s how most high school guys do it, Mac.”
“Yeah, well, from what I’ve heard, most college guys do it that way too. Once they get the green light, it’s so long, foreplay, hello, fast fuck. Thanks, but no thanks.”
And what can I say to that? We can be selfish bastards. I wince inwardly, thinking of the times I took my own pleasure, accepting it as truth when the girl beneath me acted as if I was a god simply because I chose to stick my dick into her. My face burns. Fuck, I’m an asshole.
Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose, as I talk. “How would you want it to go, Mac? If you could have it your way?”
“What?” There’s a protracted half-laugh from her. “Sex?”
“Yeah.” My voice is weak, barely audible, but I have to ask her.
The silence on the other end has a weight that I feel in my chest. “Come on, Mac,” I say. “It’s just me.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Maybe because most of us guys need a wakeup call.”
Maybe because I want to know how to please you. Or I’m a dirty bastard who needs to hear your honey-smooth voice talk about sex. Take your pick.
Anxious yet filled with anticipation, I rub the flat of my belly again. “Tell me,” I murmur. “Tell me how it would be good for you.”
Her breath hitches and for a moment I think I’ve gone too far. But when she speaks, it’s in a whisper that has an edge to it, one that sends heat straight to my cock. Because she sounds excited, tempted. “Just between us?”
My breathing picks up, lighter, faster. God, this is stupid. So fucking stupid, like opening Pandora’s box. I’ll regret it, I know. And yet… “Just between us.”
She makes a little, strangled noise. “I can’t… Okay, okay. Screw it.” Another soft breath that has me clenching, and then, “It would start out slow. Just kissing. That lazy sort of kissing that goes on and on, all soft and melting, until you’re drugged with it and your lips are all swollen and sensitive. And you’re just kind of breathing each other in, you know?”
I swallow reflexively, my voice totally gone. No, I don’t know that kind of kissing. I’ve never had the desire to go there with any girl. But fuck, I can imagine kissing Mac that way. Learning her mouth, shaping her lips with mine. My lips thrum with the need to feel hers. To sink into her taste.
Her soft voice glides over my skin. “And then he’d touch me.”
“Are you standing up or lying down when he touches you?” My voice is a rasp, but it’s a miracle I got the words out, I’m wound so tight.
She pauses. “I don’t know.”
“Are you… Are you lying down now?”
“Yeah.” It’s a gentle whisper.
My breath hitches, and I actually shiver. “Then you’re lying down. On your back.” I squeeze my eyes shut, images flooding my head. “Your hair spread out on the pillow. Your eyes on him, watching what he does to you.”
Her soft breath is in my ear. “He runs his fingers along my neck, his touch barely there. But I feel it. Burning a trail over my skin, down to my collarbone. And it gets me so hot, waiting for him to unbutton my shirt.”
“You want him to see you, don’t you, honey?” And, oh, fuck, I can imagine it, spreading open Ivy’s shirt, exposing her smooth skin.
“Yeah,” she says. “My…” A huff of breath. “My nipples are so hard. Aching.”
Jesus. “And he slides that shirt apart. Exposes your sweet tits to his gaze.”