Page 128 of The Faking Game

“Yes, you do. I want you to feel safe. Like you’ve done for me.”

“I am safe. Well,” he amends and looks down at himself, “I’m going to be in pain, but it’s the kind I like.”

“Safe word,” I repeat.

His lips twitch. “Fine. My safe word is Nora.”

“You can’t use my name!”

“Why not? It’smysafe word, isn’t it?”

“Take this seriously, please.”

West looks up at the ceiling, and a smile breaks out. “I am taking this seriously. Fine. My safe word is pink.”

Pink.

That’s what he said was his new favorite color, the other night. When he had his mouth on my nipple, murmuring praise that soaked into my skin.

He looks back at me. “That shut you right up.”

“Quiet,” I murmur, but my blush is fierce.

He smiles again and settles back against the pillow. “Ready when you are, brave explorer.”

I inch closer and put my hands on his chest. He’s firm beneath my touch, such a wide expanse of skin. I spend a solid minute just running my hands over his body. Through the hair on his chest and down his stomach, across the pebbled nipples. His arms are thick, too, and corded with muscle even when he’s not flexing. I poke at his bicep and find it so curiously hard, unlike my own.

“I feel like I’m on an operating table,” West says.

I trace his open palm, past his ring finger and the gold band that circles it. Continue over the top of his thigh, to where hair thickens and is darker than on his forearms. He works out. I’ve seen it in action, and I can see it now, in every long line of his body.

“Incision here…” I murmur and run my finger over his skin.

He huffs a quiet laugh. I turn up, toward where his erection lies against his flat stomach. The head looks almost purple, swollen and a little shiny.

I run a finger along the length. It’s hot to the touch and soft, so much softer than I thought it would be. I smile up at him in delight, only to find him looking at me with a tense face.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yes. I’m fine.” But it comes out through clenched teeth.

I trace one of the veins, smooth over the velvety head, and listen to every careful intake of his breath. “Are they always this big?” I ask him. My fingers just barely wrap around him. The idea of all of this inside me… it makes me ache.

“I know you’re inexperienced and it’s wrong of me, but fuck if that isn’t flattering,” he grinds out. “They come in all sizes. Like you saw with the condom options.”

“But is this an ordinary size?” I stroke him from base to tip. The skin may be soft, but there’s a hard core to him. Unbendable and unbreakable.

“If you want an honest answer, never ask a man who wants you that question.”

That makes me giggle. “So you’d say above average, then?”

“Of course I would. There’s a pretty girl touching my cock.”

“It just seems so big. Like how would all of this possibly fit? I mean, I know it does. That it would.” I brush my fingers down his shaft.

“It would fit, sweetheart.” His voice is rough. “If you’re turned on enough, and I’d… if a man warmed you up properly. Fuck, trouble.”

I pause, my fingers on the soft skin of his balls. “Not here?”

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