Page 43 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“Yes.” I speak softly, as if that somehow makes what I’m doing less real.

“Is your bed clear?”

“Not quite.” The toys are still piled in the center.

“Clear it.”

I move them to the desk, all except the one he called the clit stimulator, which is a wand-shaped device with a round end that almost looks like a tiny suction cup.

“Now, lie down,” he orders. “Head on the pillow. Get comfortable.”

I do as he says. Somehow, following his instructions makes it easier to get out of my head.

“Should I turn on the toy?” I ask.

“No. You’re not ready for that yet. I just want you to touch yourself. However it feels good. If you don’t want to get naked, then just rest your hand over your pussy. You need to be reminded of how great orgasms are.”

I bite my lip. It should feel strange to be doing this with him, but it’s surprisingly easy to forget the pain and lies that drove us apart when I can’t see his face. His voice in my ear is soft and tempting. Heartbreakingly familiar.

“Stop thinking,” he says. “Just feel. Concentrate on me, okay? Don’t let those whirling thoughts get the better of you.”

Closing my eyes, I rest my hand lightly over my pussy. I’m wearing yoga pants, so it’s easy to stroke myself through the soft fabric.

A memory flashes through my mind. Darkness as I cross the empty school parking lot, heading home from an evening tutoring session. A rough hand over my mouth. A hard body pinning me to the concrete no matter how hard I fought. Pain like nothing I’d ever known, and a bone-deep terror that has never quite faded.

I gasp and yank my hand away.

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “Don’t let him win, Echo.”

I grit my teeth. He’s right. I can’t let that monster take anything else from me.

I release a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” His tone is approving, and I hate how much I like it.

“Keep talking. Stay with me?” I plead, wondering whether I should kick my own ass for essentially handing him the bloody pulp of my heart and asking him not to destroy it again.

But it’s too late. I’ve made the decision to allow myself to be vulnerable with Tyler, and as Dr. Rodriguez always points out, there are so few people I can be real with.

“I’m not going anywhere.” The somberness of his voice tells me it’s the truth, and I relax a fraction.

“Tell me what to do.” I need to be able to turn off my brain, otherwise this is doomed before it begins.

“I will. I’ve got you, baby girl.”

I open my mouth to protest the term of endearment, but then close it again. I’ve never been someone who can dissociate sex from emotions, so perhaps it will help me feel safe.

“Is your hand still on your pussy?” he asks.

“No,” I admit.

“Then put it there, and I want you to rub over it, nice and slow.”

I brush myself and to my surprise, a faint sizzle of lust lights under my skin. I firm my touch slightly and repeat the movement. The sizzle builds as I continue to stroke myself, until there’s no denying its existence.

“How does it feel?” he asks.

“All right.”

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