Page 109 of The Faking Game

“The truth.”

“You,” she whispers. “I was thinking about you.”

I groan against the crook of her neck.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her hand stroking up my neck, “if that was?—”

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize to me, and not for that.” I kiss her again. It’s much harder this time, driven by my own need. I should be more careful. Go slower.

But Nora only tightens her grip on my hair and kisses me back like she wants it just as much. Just like she’s told me she always does with men.

I lift my head, mouth inches from hers. “We need a safe word.”

Her eyes are wide. “What do you mean?”

“If you don’t feel comfortable anymore. At any point, in any of the… practicing we do…” I lift up and make sure she meets my gaze. “You tell me stop, and we stop. That’s it. I won’t get angry, irritated, or mad. Nothing will change because you tell me what you want. It won’t change what I think of you.”

Nora nods a little, and embarrassment flitters over her face. “Yes.”

“I need you to promise me, sweetheart. Tell me stop, and we stop. Promise me that the second you think it, you’ll tell me.”

She nods. Her skin is flushed and warm beneath my lips. “Yes. If I want to stop, I’ll tell you.”

“And you remember that I won’t be angry, right?”

“I know, West.”

I kiss her neck again, and her breathing stutters. “Have you ever been kissed here?”

“No. I like it. I like it… a lot.”

I smile against her skin. That’s something I can work with. “I’ve thought about you too.”

“You have? While you’ve…”

“Yes. I know I shouldn’t, but I have.” I kiss the edge of what I can reach with her comforter pulled up like this. Goose bumps erupt across her skin. “You like this a lot.”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“My sweet, responsive girl. You’re doing so well.” I kiss her again. “I want you to shift the toy. Put the suction right on your clit. Can you do that for me?”

Her free hand is still on the back of my neck, like she’s anchoring herself to me. “Okay, I’m… oh.Oh.”

Fire pounds down my spine. “Good?”

“Yes.”

I kiss down her neck again, and this time, she pushes the comforter down. I follow the newly bared skin of her chest down to the edge of her camisole. I can see the faint swells of her tits and the hard poke of her nipples through the fabric.

I trail my fingers along the edge of her camisole and watch her shiver. “You’re doing so good,” I tell her. “So pretty. What does it feel like?”

“I feel hot. It’s so intense.” Her eyes are locked on mine. “I’ve never felt this kind of craving before.”

“Stay in the moment. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” she whispers. Her chest rises and falls with a quick breath, and her back arches. “I want…”

“Tell me, pretty girl.”

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