Page 43 of Business or Pleasure

“I thought you’d say something like, ‘Absolutely not, Finn, you’ll be a sexual virtuoso in no time.’ ”

I toss a pillow at him. “Fine, on the off chance that you’re not—it doesn’t mean your relationship is doomed. You just have to try other things. Toys can be great, and sex doesn’t have to be the destination every time, let alone... penetration.” This time I stumble over the word, laughing. There’s no reason it can’t be funny. My knee has fallen back against his, but neither of us moves apart. “There are plenty of fantastic stops along the way—there’s no need to rush it. Or maybe those aren’t stops—maybe those are the main event. It completely depends on the relationship. But the key is communication. That’s the only way to know whether something is working for someone. If one person is unhappy, the other needs to know.”

He takes this all in with a focused gaze. “I like that,” he says, his voice dropping into a lower register. Now his hand falls to my knee, thumb rubbing a slow circle. “In fact, I like all of this. I think this was more informative than any health class I had in school.”

“I’m glad,” I say, “because I think we’re ready for the practical part of the lesson.”

I put my hand on top of his, and it just feels natural, leaning into him. I’m more than eager for him to touch me, which is encouraged in Intermediate Foreplay. This time when we kiss, it’s soft at first. Exploratory. Finn runs a hand along the curve of my jaw, and when I shiver, he smiles and does it again. Then he bends to press his mouth to my ear, repeating what he did in Phoenix.

“Still good?” he asks, even as I’m shuddering against him.

I close my eyes, murmuring my agreement. It’s as though our bodies are eager to pick up where they left off, and the kissing no longer feels like enough. More, I feel myself tell him with a slide of my hips against his. More, he agrees, coaxing me on top of him as our kisses turn deeper. Urgent.

It’s fun, doing this with zero expectations, zero commitment. I’m not worried about what’ll happen tomorrow morning or if one of us wants more out of this than the other. It’s easier than I expected to turn off my brain.

There’s also something about having him all to myself that stands in stark contrast to the Finn on his panels. I’m the only one who gets to see this side of him—for now, at least.

And despite the fact that none of this is real, the hard ridge in his jeans is immensely gratifying.

I rock against him, reaching down to fumble with his zipper, and once his jeans are puddled on the floor, he helps rid me of mine. Our shirts land on top of them.

“Slow,” I remind him, even though my wandering hands are anything but. “Tease me.”

He responds with a growl as he bends to fiddle with my bra. “I know how to do this now,” he says, tugging it off with a satisfied smirk. “Jesus. Your tits are phenomenal. I don’t think I gave them nearly enough attention in Seattle, and for that, I’m deeply sorry.”

“Ah. You’re learning.” My laugh morphs into a moan as he flicks his tongue against a nipple. “More of that. Please,” I say, and he’s quick to oblige, teasing me with his teeth. I fist a hand in his hair, a warmth building low in my belly.

This time, he doesn’t go too fast. He licks, sucks, gently bites until my nipples are hard peaks and I’m trembling beneath him. His hand drifts down, rubs against my hip bone. “Can I touch you?” he says into my ear, lips skating along my skin. Drawing another shiver, even though I’m warm everywhere.

I nod, and he lets out a low groan when he cups me through my panties.

“Clearly, I’m doing something right,” he says, words rough as gravel as he runs a finger back and forth along the damp fabric. When his finger slips inside my underwear, I can sense him stumble, unsure where to start.

“Here,” I say, reaching down to guide him until we both find that sensitive bundle of nerves. I graze it with the lightest touch. “Do you feel that?”

“I—I think so.” He lets out a sharp breath. “Oh. Yeah, I feel it.”

“You okay?”

“Just fifteen years of ineptitude crashing down around me.”

I shed my underwear to give him easier access. A concentrated tension runs from his cheekbones down to his jaw. His touch is gentle, exactly the way I told him to be. Uncertain, and there’s something undeniably sexy about that. I relax into it, letting him slowly, slowly take control.

“Yeah?” he says when my breathing quickens, and I pant out a yes.

But then he slows down too much and I lose the momentum, and I have to swallow down the frustration.

This must go on for at least fifteen minutes—getting close before the pleasure fades away.

“I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” With his other hand, he swipes at his brow.

“What if we tried something else?” We’d be deviating from the outline, but it might be necessary. “What if... what if I showed you how I make myself come?” The idea already has a new kind of pressure building in my core, my heart rate quickening. I hadn’t planned on this, but suddenly it seems like not only a guaranteed orgasm but a perfect teaching opportunity.

And I really like the mental image of him watching me.

He tilts his head, curiosity piqued. “I would not be opposed to that.”

I swat at his arm. “Teenage fantasy coming true?”

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