Page 31 of Show Me How
Is that your question?
Yes.
It would depend on who the exception is for.
A moan slips free of me when I pull a bit harder on my nipple. The pleasure zips down my body to swirl at my centre.
I see.
That was answer enough for you?
I only get one question at a time.
Alright.
His first text barely arrives before a second follows.
Would you want to be the woman in question?
My vision grows blurry. I move my hand from my breast to the waistband of my panties, hovering there. This isn’t what I expected for tonight. It’s not polite or respectful. I shouldn’t do this. If I did, I’d surely regret it.
How would I look at him at the studio tomorrow, knowing that I’d pleasured myself to nothing more than the thought of him here and a few somewhat innocent messages shared between us?
My fingers move on their own. I feel the soft, waxed skin beneath my panties and keep going lower. The slickness waiting there shocks me.
That depends on what your exceptions are. My heart isn’t broken.
I can always hear his chuckle in the room with me when his message appears, and I dip my touch between my hot flesh, searching for the only spot that I know brings me pleasure.
Tell me what you like and we’ll go from there.
I don’t know what I like.
There it goes. The complete truth.
What do you mean?
The next question is mine.
Ask then.
Have you ever been with anyone who didn’t have a lot of . . . experience?
How little are you talking?
Only once.
I bite down on my lip to hide the noises that try to escape when I circle the ball of nerves between my legs. My thighs growtight with the effort it takes not to allow them to close. Maybe I’ll actually be able to come like this.
No.
Oh.
Would you like me to make that exception?
Shade . . .
The pleasure swells, an orgasm hovering and exciting my pulse. I abandon my phone on my chest and bring my other hand to my breast, rolling my nipple quickly while giving the same treatment to my core. I’m nearly there. Closer than I’ve gotten?—
