Page 64 of Unmatched

My legs are spread wide when he descends on my center, his fingers gently parting my flesh until the hot tip of his tongue suddenly darts over my clit, and my whole body shudders. He circles the sensitive nub, traveling round and round until I squirm, and he finally clamps his lips down, sucking firmly until my hips buck in response.

We repeat this dance, his tongue exploring me in gentle swirls, breathing deeply against my flesh until I’m moving with him, slow and relaxed—then he’ll ravage my clit when I’m completely off guard. I feel like an instrument he keeps picking up to play, then suddenly putting down.

Until, all at once, he pulls away.

The muscles at my core are so tight, I squirm in his absence, and I’m about to sit up to look for him when I sense a gentle probing at my entrance. Before I can take another breath, he penetrates me—not with the rabbit, but with one long, delicate finger, sliding smoothly in, then back out almost as quickly. I give a silent gasp. He repeats this motion, adding a second digit, and my hips tilt in response, rocking in a slow rhythm. I’m shocked, and honestly a little embarrassed, at how slick I become with each intrusion and removal, and he seems to note it too, spreading my wetness all over my flesh.

And then, that low vibration pierces the air.

This time, there’s no pause in his ministrations. One moment his fingers are thrust deep inside me, then they’re gone, replaced by a light, humming pressure outside my center. Which could only be the rounded pink head of the rabbit.

“Are you ready?” he whispers in a husky voice, forcing me to pull my gaze from the ceiling.

I drop my chin, and now he’s staring at me bare-chested, framed between my naked legs. His expression is so different than I’ve seen it for weeks—the planes of his face smooth, eyes open, optimistic—I take in a sudden breath. And then I nod.

He dips his head, keeping his eyes locked with mine, slowly pushing the tip of the pulsing pink toy inside me. I widen my eyes once it penetrates, my cheeks flush, and the raw lust that takes over Anton’s face forces me to tear my gaze away.

I collapse against the pillows as he starts moving the toy gently in and out, following the same pattern he had with his fingers. It’s so utterly different from any time he has been inside me. The pink silicone is firm and unyielding in a way his flesh isn’t, and the vibration feels foreign and robotic. But the way it fills me is...nice.

I’m not sure what I had been expecting. I guess that it would hurt or at least be uncomfortable. But as my husband glides the shaft in and out of my very wet vagina and my muscles clamp around it, I can’t deny it’s surprisingly pleasant.

My breathing starts to stutter, and I turn my head to the side. This feels good, but I need something more. I’m just not sure what. I run my hands over my chest, now wishing I’d taken off my shirt. I tilt my pelvis slightly, trying to adjust my position, and in the process discover the motion is exactly what I’m looking for. I start rocking my hips, moving in time with Anton’s rhythm. The low vibration hums through my flesh, echoing in the air, accompanied by the wet sounds of my arousal, and I don’t know whether to feel embarrassed or turned on by all this strange noise.

Then something shifts. I had thought I was already experiencing the rabbit in its full capacity until Anton plunges it deeper. The lower shaft of the toy is wider, placing further pressure on my inner walls even as it continues sliding against them with indescribable friction. This is a lot on its own, but then the “rabbit ears,” the strange little appendage I’d nearly forgotten about, touch down on my clit just as Anton turns up the speed of the vibration. And it’s too much. I squirm, wanting to pull away and push into it more, and then, with almost zero warning, my body begins to shudder and come apart. My legs fall open, every muscle in my core contracts, and my hips buck as shrieks and moans issue from my throat.

Anton decreases the speed of the vibration as I come down from my peak until my body goes still against the bedspread, then he turns the toy off. I lie there for several minutes, the muscles between my thighs still gently pulsing, trying to process everything that just happened. In the ten years we’ve been together, I’ve never felt quite this way any time we’ve ever had sex. Not because I hadn’t climaxed...it was just never like that.

Anton sets the toy on the nightstand, switches off the light, and lies down on his side of the bed. I’m not sure when the sun fully set, but it’s totally dark in the bedroom, and I can’t really see beyond his silhouette or make out his expression. I wait long moments for him to do something else. Reach over, climb on top of me, get back to business. It’s his turn. We might not do this a lot, but we’ve always been very fair when it comes to mutual orgasms. If you have one, you get one.

Though I have to admit, now that I’ve come down from my own high, I’m not super motivated to do the exchange. Despite what just happened, I prefer when he comes first. It’s harder for me to keep focused after I’ve climaxed. I’ll start thinking about other things—chores I haven’t done, problems at work—lose lubrication, and end up sore. But fair is fair. And the woman at the store did say the rabbit should help both of us. When more minutes tick by and Anton doesn’t move, I take a breath and speak into the darkness.

“Do you want to, um . . .”

My voice trails off before I can finish, the implied question hanging in the air.

“No. I’m good,” he says after a minute.

He shifts next to me, and I catch a glimpse of his face in the dim light. But I must’ve heard wrong. I continue waiting, preparing for him to reach for my breasts or press his hard length against my thigh. But then he pulls the covers back, slips under, and rolls away from me without another word. For a while I expect his hands to search me out, take what’s rightfully his, but then I realize his breathing has slowed, become even, and my legs are suddenly cold. I’m still naked from the waist down on top of the covers. I slip off the bed, locate my cozy striped pajamas, and slip into them. Brush my teeth. Clean up a little.

The space between my legs seems to carry a light, unfamiliar hum.

When I return to bed, I ease slowly onto the mattress, careful not to disturb Anton. I half expect him to roll over and grab for me. Wrap his arms around my waist, pull my bottoms down, and finish what he started. After another few minutes I almost wish he would. But he doesn’t. He lies still on his half of the bed, unconscious and uninterested.

What. The. Hell.

I turn on my side, mimicking his posture, facing the opposite direction. I ought to drift off, relieved, happily off the hook because there’s no way I’d ever figure out how to do to him what he just did to me.

Instead, I slip my fingers beneath my PJs and down between my legs, exploring the moist, still-sensitive folds. Everything is just barely swollen and tender, but not in the uncomfortable way I’m used to after sex. On the contrary, I’m tempted to keep moving my fingers, search out that pleasure again. It feels like it’s still there, pulsing somewhere under the surface, waiting to be discovered and drawn back out. I can’t remember ever having this sensation before, though I’m not totally sure why. Did I just need a fancy vibrator all this time?

Or did something change between us tonight?

A heavy, deep-sleep snort issues from my husband’s side of the bed, and I withdraw my hand. I might have enjoyed myself as promised by the woman at Playful Pleasures, but Anton didn’t.

I squeeze my eyes shut as my exhilaration slowly fades. Because I owe him now.

But the funny thing is, now that I think about it, Anton didn’t have that familiar, craving look after I climaxed. The one he gets when I know he wants sex. The one he’s worn for the past several weeks. All he did tonight was work to get me off, then crawl between the sheets and turn away from me. And despite not getting anything himself, the look on his face was almost peaceful. Content.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

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