Page 59 of Mutant Mine

After a while, Rory is relaxed enough for me to ease in a second finger. She takes it so well, sighing at the stretch.

“Good,” I tell her.

It does not take long. I pump my fingers steadily. When I can feel that she is getting close, but needs something to tip her over the edge, I wet the pad of my thumb and begin brushing her clitoris with every push inside.

Rory grips my shoulders, breathing into my neck. Her small, bare feet slide against the sheets, toes curling.

“Roth,” she says. “I’m…Ah!”

When she clamps tight around my fingers, throbbing hard, the feeling is as euphoric as if I have come myself.

She shivers after she finishes. Her legs are trembling.

We look at each other. Rory’s eyes are dilated and wondering. She lifts a hand to my cheek. There is something I want to say, but I cannot put it into words, so I kiss her instead.

The pressure in my chest eased once I finally had her in my arms. But lying here now, letting my fingers slip out of her, it is growing stronger again. Every instinct is urging me to pull her close and drag her legs around me. What sound would she make when I pushed back inside — showed her exactly what she does to me? What sweet, shocked little bird sound?

NO.

I will not do that to her. I do not want to hurt her, or do anything that she may regret later. This is all I can permit myself: the honor of worshiping at her body, like a supplicant to a goddess.

I will bring her pleasure,I resolved last night,and ask nothing in return.

I kiss Rory’s jaw, and then her neck, then between her breasts.

“What are you…?” she asks, sleepily lifting her head off the pillow.

“You can give me one more,” I say against the soft skinunder her belly button. “I know you can.”

She looks confused. Until I part her thighs again, and lower my mouth to taste.

28

Rory

IF Ithought I enjoyed the bubble bath last time, it’s nothing compared to this.

I’ve figured out several key improvements since my last venture into the tub:

1. Bring wine.

2. Bring snacks.

3. Be absolutely wrung out with pleasure at the hands (and tongue) of your very clever giant mutant boyfriend.

Just thinking about it makes me blush all over. I sink lower into the water, as if to hide my face. The things I’ve done in the last thirty-six hours would have shocked me, not so very long ago. And withhim, of all people.

After Roth gathered me up off the couch yesterday morning, we spent half the day in bed. He had to go out again after a while, but came back to eat dinner with me. I tried to put a movie on afterwards, but we ended up spooned on the couch, Roth’s hand slipping down the front of my shorts. It became very hard to focus on the movie — and it wasn’t long before I found myself carried back to bed for the rest of the night.

I shift a little, making the water slosh, and stroke some foam into my skin. I chose a pale green bottle of bubbles this time, and the scent is herbal and calming.

Bathing feels sensual in a way that it didn’t before. Myrelationship with my body has changed. I have a wary new respect for it, now I know all the sensations that lie waiting in its nerves. And I see it from a new perspective: appreciating how this tool that I’ve taken for granted might look through someone else’s eyes.

As I wash my legs, I see how they gleam in the silky water. Soaping my breasts, I feel the soft weight of them above my lean belly. My nipples, licked and nibbled and sucked until they’re surely swollen, prickle with the memory of his touch as my own fingers swirl suds over them.

And between my legs… Stroking water there, and feeling the first glow of warmth… I know where that can lead me now. The shocking pulse rightthere,strong enough to make me cry out. The glitter that flows up over my scalp and down my spine and to the very ends of my fingertips.

Roth taught me that.

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