Page 49 of Show Me How
I roll forward on my stool and brush my knees against her legs. Her nerves are so obvious it’s almost makingmenervous.
“Do you want me to read it for you?” I offer.
“No. No, I can do it.”
“Alright,” I murmur.
With a clearing of her throat, she focuses on her phone. “Tongue kissing.”
It takes everything in me to keep my expression blank instead of surprised. I know she said inexperienced, but I assumed she’d have done that, even if it were sloppy and disappointing.
I nod. “What’s next?”
“I don’t know if you’d want to, or even could help with this, but . . .” She trails off, inhaling through her nose. Her next sentence is rough, sounding as if she had to yank each word up her throat individually. “I’m never able to get myself to finish when I touch myself.”
Have fucking mercy.
It’s not possible to spread my legs any wider than I already am. My groin is tight, too constricted as I try to shift on the tiny-ass fucking leather stool.
“You want help making yourself come?” I ask, voice throaty and raw, as if I’ve scraped it with a cheese grater.
Millie glares at me. “Do you have to ask like that? It’s embarrassing enough without you judging me like you said youwouldn’t.”
“I didn’t mean for it to come out badly. I’m not judging. Consider it on the list, princess. Tell me what’s next.”
Her hesitation bothers me. Pushing forward, I box her in completely against the table and take the hand she’s using to grip the leather. It’s only for support. That’s the only reason I hold her fingers and stroke my thumb along each one.
“What you think is judgment is excitement,” I admit, risking putting that out there in hopes it helps her be more comfortable.
Blue eyes widen slightly. “You better not be placating me.”
“You’ve had my dick hard since you came over here, Millie.”
“Oh,” she whispers.
It takes everything in me not to move a muscle when her stare dips, trailing down my torso to where I’m too goddamn stiff and uncomfortable. I wait for a reaction and get rewarded for my patience the second a soft exhale blows past her parted lips. Her fingers flex in my hold, clutching tightly.
“Tell me what’s next,” I urge, continuing to stroke her hand.
“I want to learn how to make you feel good.”
She doesn’t mean me, not really. But shit, right now, that’s all I hear.
“How?”
“How?” she repeats, slowly pulling her eyes up from between my spread legs.
“With your hands or your mouth?”
“Both.”
I tip my chin, breathing heavily. “What else?”
“There’s only one more.”
“That’s okay. I have plenty,” I announce.
Intrigue fills her gaze, but she pushes past it. “I’ve only ever had one thing that I’ve been curious about that isn’t, like, base level.”
