Page 87 of Every Step She Takes
“No,” I lie.
She climbs off me, and I’m overwhelmed by a growing sense of dread that I’ve ruined everything. This perfect moment. All those perfect feelings.
“Sadie. Talk to me.” Her voice is a gentle plea, not a growl, and shit, I think I’m crying.
“Sadie.” She grabs my hand and raises it to her lips again. Her mouth is also a gentle plea against my wrist bone. “Are you okay?”
“I’m so humiliated.”
Mal laughs lightly. “Do you know how many times I’ve accidentally farted while being eaten out?This—whatever this is—is not humiliating.” Her teeth playfully bite my wrist bone. “Look at me.”
When I refuse, she grabs the pillow and yanks it away entirely, so I have no choice but to face her. Facethis. “What happened, Freckles?”
“It, uh, hurt a little when you, uh…”
“When I fingered you?” she asks bluntly.
I fight to get the pillow back, but she’s holding my hands captive. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“No,I’msorry,” she says, giving my hands a gentle squeeze. “I should have asked before moving inside of you.”
Her directness makes me want todie.“Can I please just cover my face?”
She holds tighter to my hands. “You cannot. Why are you embarrassed right now?”
“Because I ruined the sex lesson!”
“We were practicing how you communicate your needs around sex, and I think you were doing a damn good job at that.”
I sit up so I’m facing Mal in all of her half-naked glory. “Yeah, but I couldn’t even go through with the actual sex part.”
Mal makes a giant fart noise.
“Okay. Rude.”
“Do you really think it’s only sex if I penetrate you?”
“I don’tlovethat word, but, uh, yes?”
“Sadie, Sadie, misguided lady,” Mal sings. “Wewerehaving sex. At least, it was sex to me. Before I went and messed it with the P-word.”
Ialmostlaugh.
“Nothing is ruined, Freckles.”
Mal is still holding me by both wrists. She can clearly see the stress hives on my fingers. She must feel the way my hands shake nervously. And still, she doesn’t let go.
“What do you want?” she asks me.
What I want is to go back to five minutes ago, when I was writhing under the delicious pressure of her fingers. I want to return to that unselfconscious state where I was cursing and moaning and letting myself feel. But as much as I want to get back to that guilt-free pleasure, I can’t.
Mal must sense the shattered moment, because she lifts my wrist again and presses it to her lips. “I love your little blush splotches,” she says, caressing the ugly red marks on the inside of my arm.
“Those are hives.”
“Mmm.” She kisses a chain of hives one by one, all the way up to my elbow. “I love your hives, then.”
“That’s quite gross,” I say. What I really mean is,that’s quite sweet.
