Page 29 of The Dating Pact

That was when I inched my fingers downward, but she stopped me by putting her hand over mine. “I don’t get wet.”

“What?”

“I don’t get wet anymore.”

“Okay,” I said because I didn’t know how else to respond.

“Other guys, they think they can lick their fingers or something and it’ll be fine. They think they’ll be the ones to fix me.”

I shook my head, understanding now. “You don’t need to be fixed.”

Her face softened, the tension she’d been holding leaching from her body. Brooke was always so confident; I hadn’t expected her to be worried about sex. And maybe she needed this too.

This practice…or whatever it was we were doing.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“Lube.”

“For everything?”

She answered with a nod.

“All the time?”

“Yeah. Some guys get offended or something. Tom didn’t?—”

“You don’t need to explain it to me,” I snapped, not because I was angry with her, but because of every man who had ever let her down. Made her think she was less than the flawless creature she was.

And it all made sense.

The few stories she’d told me, using vague language about her asshole ex not being “satisfied” and how she never felt connected with other men she’d had sex with. Every single one of them was a selfish prick.

I remembered the other purchases from the store tonight and stood up to retrieve the bag from the counter in the kitchen. I placed it on the side table next to the couch after pulling out the lube, eyeing her as I opened the box.

She still hadn’t moved, and the trust she placed in me made my heart thud hard against my rib cage.

Once I had the small blue bottle in hand, I popped the top and squirted some onto my index and middle fingers before kneeling on the couch between her legs. “It’s cold,” I warned her as I lowered my fingers, dragging them down the seam of her pussy, and she gasped. “Told you.”

She batted at my shoulder, laughing, but when I found her clit, her playful smile slipped, her fingers tightening on my arm. I circled my fingers around the tiny bud, and her breathing increased, her nipples pulled even tauter. I kept working her over, finding the rhythm she needed, as I squeezed her breast, lowering myself to her side, flicking at her nipple with my tongue.

She squirmed and let out a soft breath, a near hiss, wrapping her fingers around my forearm. Her fingernails bit into my skin, but I wasn’t going anywhere, wasn’t slowing down. Not when I could give her this release. Especially not when she deserved to be given everything she wanted.

“You close?” I asked, my voice a ghost of itself, my bottom lip catching on her peaked and wet nipple.

She nodded and whispered, “Keep going.”

Like I’d ever stop.

I bent my head back down to her breast, earning more of her sounds, circling and circling my fingers. The lube made everything slick, the sound heating my already fast-flowing blood, and I didn’t realize I’d been unconsciously bucking my hips against her leg until she threaded her arm between us to squeeze my erection over my shorts.

It had been years since anyone else had touched it, and I practically growled. My brain went fuzzy with white noise, and I tucked my face into Brooke’s throat, breathing heavily when I felt her hand snake beneath my underwear. Then her fingers were there, wrapped around my hard cock.

“Not quite a rocket, but bigger than I would’ve guessed,” she said against my ear, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Always a ballbuster. Even now.”

And thank god for that.

---