Page 25 of False Confidence

“Of course I have a plan.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

“Nope. Just trust me, darling. I’ve got this.”

He did not have a plan. In fact, he had no idea how he was going to get Jasmine out of a ten-year orgasm drought, but it started with making sure she was comfortable. He hadn’t entirely discounted that it might be a medical issue—God knows doctors rarely took women’s health seriously—but it was entirely possible for it to be a mental block. As for what it might be… Fuck knows. But he’d be damned if he couldn’t do this for her.

“I trust you,” Jasmine replied softly, and Liam’s blood hummed in response. “So where do we start?”

“We start at the beginning. Talk to me about what you’re into.”

“What I’m into?”

“Mhmm. I’m, as you so aptly put it, a pleasure dom—” The term was corny as fuck, even if it was accurate. “What’s your thing? Everyone has that one thing that turns them on more than anything else.”

“Oh. Uh…”

He tugged her away from the bookcase, undoing the buttons of her shirt dress as he led her toward the bed. Pushing the dress from her shoulders, Liam tried not to run his fingers all over her the second it dropped to the floor. He failed, of course, but the point was he tried.

His legs hit the edge of the bed and he sat down, tugging her onto his lap. Jasmine lifted her legs, and Liam ran his palm along her thighs, her skin silky beneath his hand. He knew they had to take it slow, had to figure out what did and didn’t work for her, but God, he couldn’t wait to get those thighs wrapped around his head again.

Liam had known what he liked since the first time he’d made someone come. He’d been seventeen, fumbling, and it had taken longer than was probably reasonable for him to figure out where exactly to touch India, but as soon as he’d figured it out, he’d been obsessed.

He and India had been each other’s firsts, a one night summer thing during their trip to the Maldives. They stayed friends through the rest of their high school and college days, but they didn’t start dating until their late twenties, and in the decade in between his first time with India and their first date, Liam had fallen even more in love with making people fall apart.

“Jasmine,” he prompted, and her eyes flicked from the hand on her thigh to his face. “What’s your thing?”

She was quiet for a moment, wringing her hands, before saying, “I like being told what to do, but I like not doing it more.”

Liam chuckled, and Jasmine raised a curious brow. “Nothing has ever been less surprising than you being a brat, darling.”

“I’m not a brat,” she said indignantly, but her hazel eyes glittered. “I just like pushing buttons—especially yours.” She punctuated her point by wriggling around on his lap until he gripped her hips firmly, stilling her. He would never admit it, but it wouldn’t take much for her to break his no coming until she did rule. He was used to fairly regular sex, and even more regular masturbation. Jasmine, sitting in his lap after several days of not coming, was torture. Beautiful fucking torture.

“And you’re so good at it,” he told her through gritted teeth. “Like I said: brat.”

She rolled her eyes, but Liam felt the way she shifted in his lap—no longer trying to tease him, but searching for friction. Jasmine liked being called a brat. Interesting.

“What else do you like?”

“I like pain, especially as a punishment. But I cry easily, which I don’t care about, but it bothers some people. I’m good with most toys and anal, and I’m really into bondage, as long as I feel safe with the person. Which obviously I do with you.” Obviously. She said it so casually, like it didn’t make Liam’s heart swell.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, clearing it before replying. “Good. That’s all good.” She liked everything he did. Of course she did. “What don’t you like?”

She rolled her neck, stretching out like a cat, and, though having her sitting on his lap probably wasn’t the most comfortable position for them to have this conversation, he wasn’t letting go until she did.

“Role-play isn’t a no,” she said. “But I can’t take it seriously and it tends to piss people off when I laugh.” Liam couldn’t imagine her laughing ever pissing him off. “I don’t like group stuff. I’m too possessive for that,” she continued. “And I really don’t like praise, or worship, or anything too… nice. Both inside and outside of bed.”

That was interesting. And potentially difficult. Liam usually followed up any kind of degrading dirty talk with praise, but he could adjust. Even if there was definitely something to unpack there.

“I can work with that. Anything else?”

“Oh yeah, I would prefer not to be peed on, but if that’s a must, then the shower is my preference.”

Somehow, she continued to surprise him. “I’m not going to pee on you. Even in the shower. I promise.”

“Perfect. Anything I should know about you?”

“It sounds like we’re into the same kinds of things. I like to focus on the line between pleasure and pain a lot. And I can be a little vocal, especially if someone is pushing my buttons.” He tapped her on the nose.

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