Page 54 of Unbossly Manners

“Why aren’t we naked,” I whined.

“One step at a time.” He smiled coyly.

“What step are we on now?” I asked through panted breaths.

“Last time, I took care of you and taught you what your body needs. Sex isn’t about perfecting a skill. This is a composition. Our bodies are the instruments. They work together. It’s not about you getting on your knees and giving me head. It’s about sharing an experience.”

He’d said something like this before, and I was beginning to understand.

“You may need more time to tune your instruments with Derrick,” he said.

I pulled my shirt over my head, my breasts ripe and ready for him to devour. I shivered, part of me still hesitant and anxious, but my desire to be with Jackson and understand how my instrument worked overpowered the anxiety.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” I said my fingers digging into his shoulders, begging him for more.

Jackson’s tongue played with the corner of his lip, his gaze on my chest.

“I think those are the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen.”

“I hate that word,” I said but smiled.

“Too crude?” He leaned forward and licked my right nipple then sat back staring at the glistening nub. “Dirty talk can be fun. It doesn’t mean it’s actually dirty.”

He licked the other nipple. They were a matching pair of shimmering desire, so hard they could cut glass. He unzipped my skirt and pulled it from my body. I lay on the bed, topless, only wearing my black lace undies.

“What do you call this?” He spread his tongue wide and slid it over the wet spot on my underwear.

My fingers dug into his hair, my senses on fire.

“Er, my underwear?”

“The part of your body under it,” he clarified.

“Oh, um, my sex. Or vagina.”

“Why don’t you call it your pussy?”

“It sounds… crass.” I raised up on my elbows.

He pressed his nose to my sex and breathed deeply. “You smell delicious. You taste better. This is a beautiful part of you.”

My whole body flushed, embarrassed, and turned on all at once.

“Can I call it your pussy?” His fingers gripped the edge of the lace.

“Yes,” I whispered. He could call it whatever the hell he wanted as long as he kept his hands and mouth focused there.

He slid my underwear down my legs and tossed them to the floor.

“Your pussy is gorgeous.” He looked up through his lashes. “May I?”

My nerves were electrified, every cell on fire wherever he touched me, pulsing with expectation.

“Yes.”

He spread his tongue and licked up in a slow stroke, savoring. I moaned his name in a plea for more.

He kissed my clit and lifted his head, his lids hooded as he watched pleasure fill my features. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you scream.”

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