Page 33 of Sins and Secrets

Whoa, that’s a lot of information at once.

She’s angry and confused, plus throw in a dash of shame about what she likes, or what she thinks she likes. But if I reject Waverly, she might never have the courage to ask this again, or worse she might ask the wrong kind of guy. “What are you expecting will happen tonight?”

“You said you want me in your life, right? More than friends. But I don’t know if you want this as a real relationship or something else. I do know I’m tired of this nagging shame about sex.” She balls up tighter. “I figured we would try stuff. I would give you a blow job or something and we would take it from there.”

The air fryer dings and I race to the kitchen to buy myself time to find the right words. I place four cookies on a white plate and say, “I’m a fan of blow jobs.” The apartment fills with the scent of freshly baked goodness as I head back to her.

It’s only a few feet between the kitchen and couch, but knowing she’s struggling, it seems like an eternity. This time I slide onto the remaining space on the couch, the sweet smell of chocolate and butter teasing my nostrils. My knee presses against hers and my whole body warms. I have never reacted like this from merely being physically close to someone. Excitement battles with hesitation, and I’m pretty certain whatever reluctance I have left is about to be obliterated. She may have just handed me the keys to a Harley-Davidson and given me permission to take her down a road I’ve always wanted to share with her simply because I know she’d love the view.

“Do you want to erase the stigma he gave you?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“And discover exactly what you like?” This is the breaking point. I could walk away now, or I could help her. We could start over from what we were years ago. It’s possible.

“Yes.”

I won’t jump to conclusions. Everything has to be crystal clear. “What do you want?”

Her eyes drop to the perfect cookies on the white plate. “Um, I’m kinda hungry.”

I nod, giving her the permission she needs to rip off a piece of the cookie and pop it in her mouth. Between bites, she covers her mouth with her hand and says, “Have some.”

I throw my arm around the back of the couch and press more of my leg against hers. “Oh, I’ll eat later.”

Waverly pauses for a second as she blushes and turns away.

No. It won’t work if she hides now.

Pressing two fingers against her cheek, I turn her head toward me. The change is instant in both of us. I feel like an arctic volcano under miles of ice, a fiery river about to burst. “Tell me how I can help you.”

Her lips part like a secret to be unlocked, but she slams her eyes shut and her fists tighten into little balls. “I can’t.”

I tread carefully, choosing each word to avoid additional pain.. “Sex is a very small part of who you are. Twenty-three hours of your day is spent doing everything else that makes you, you.”

Half smirking and half shocked, she says, “An hour a day for sex? I’d say that’s a pretty big part of your life.”

I smile back at her. “On a good day.” My finger returns to her chin, holding her gaze. “It’s a part of a romantic relationship. If you don’t communicate, in life or about sex, then at best you’ll always be in this assumed compromise with no one getting what they want. At worst, you’re lying to your partner and to yourself.”

She relaxed while I was talking, but now she starts to freeze again. “When I told him, he said it was wrong. Dirty. He never really looked at me the same.”

I hiss, “He’s a narrow-minded, judgmental asshole,” as I reach for the cookie and rip off another chocolatey, gooey chunk. I pop it in my mouth, mulling over my next move. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“You make it sound easy. Words can never be taken back. It’s hard enough to find a guy who doesn’t creep you out or chew with their mouth open. What are the odds of finding someone who also likes the same kinks as you? Something has to give, and, as you said, sex is a small part of your identity.”

I nod and lean back, giving her more space. “You’re right.”

She lifts her head for the first time, meets my gaze, and brightens before she drops it again. Hmm, interesting. I just discovered her favorite words. Praise kink? Time to dive a little deeper.

“You said you came here to give me a blow job. There are tons of other acts. Why did you pick that one?”

Her knees bounce so fast I might give her a rug burn. “Because it’s not selfish. Because I like giving pleasure. There is a power play there, control. I would have the power to make you feel good and satisfied. At least that’s how it starts out. Then, when the moment is right, it becomes something else. When you grip my head, guiding me exactly how you want me. When I don’t have to think about what you want, because you’re taking it. Using my body for your pleasure because I’m giving it to you, and I trust you.”

She watches me, gauging my reaction. There’s no way I’m this lucky. Then, it hits me—I won’t be if I’m not careful. She’s going to find out what she wants one way or another. And it might be from someone else. Too many guys out there could use this to hurt her, manipulate her. She needs someone who knows her. And I’d much rather it be me.

I scrub my eyes with the heels of my hands, ignoring the tightening of my pants. My chest rises and falls faster, and I’m having a hard time controlling it.

“See.” Her eyes grow wide and her pupils are huge. “This is what I was afraid of. You think I’m a freak.”

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