Page 78 of Show Me How
The lingering heat between my legs is distracting enough to keep me from running. I swallow past the ball in my throat and press harder onto him, considering sinking my nails into him just so I really can’t leave. My inner thighs are sticky as they rub together, a constant reminder of why I feel confident enough to get down here, pushing past every doubt in my mind.
I want this. I want it badly enough to ignore my nerves and stare boldly up at him, silently pleading for him to tell me what to do.
“You’re sure?” he asks, a warning stitched into each word.
“Yes,” I breathe.
Leaning forward, he drags his elbows down his thighs. His knuckle brushes the underside of my chin, his gaze dark and daring. I let him move me, struggling to calm my breathing.
“You look petrified, princess.”
There’s a cold drip down my spine. “No.”
“Yes, you do. I don’t need you to do anything for me, Millie,” he murmurs, searching my face for something. Confirmation that he’s right, maybe.
I force the words out. “It’s not for you. It’s for me.”
His expression stays the same, deep brown eyes continuing their examination. Panic squeezes me, and I tighten my hold on his knees, sinking back to sit on my heels.
“Tell me how, Shade. Show me. Please,” I add, my voice a whisper.
The knuckle beneath my chin shifts to my jaw, running along the length of it before falling away. Shade leans back into the couch, wide shoulders sinking into the cushions. I watch, breath catching as he moves his hands to the button of his jeans and pops it open.
His gaze pins mine, like he’s testing me with every twitch of his fingers. When he pinches the zipper and lowers it, I don’t look away.
“Move closer,” he says, a subtle bite of urgency there.
I obey, rising and letting my palms glide up his thighs. He brings a hand to mine, stroking my knuckles. Then he lifts it, pressing my palm against the bulge straining beneath his jeans.
My throat constricts around a breathless moan. I can’t speak, my tongue numb where it lies useless in my mouth. The feel of him beneath my palm is intoxicating, and I haven’t moved a muscle yet.
“Told you already that there were no limits on where you could touch me,” he says, voice rough. “Squeeze it.”
I do. Without thinking, my fingers squeeze around the heat and weight of him. Shade’s soft grunt slithers over my skin, hot and balmy. I spread my fingers along the length of his shaft, searching for the end. My core clenches, growing slicker when I realize quickly just how long that takes to find it.
My eyes flash up at him, my lashes fluttering. I don’t know why I’m searching for more approval, but it’s instinct. The desire for him to tell me to continue rattles in my head, repeating until it’s impossible to think about anything else.
“Good. Now, pull it out, Millie.”
I suck in a breath. A shiver rolls down my body, landing low and deep.
The tremble in my fingers doesn’t stop me from taking the opening of his jeans and pulling gently. Shade lifts off the couch just long enough for me to pull them to mid-thigh. I stare at the tight fabric of his briefs, realizing I didn’t shed those too.
He doesn’t say anything to stop me. Just lifts his shirt with tattooed fingers, baring a stretch of stomach inked in colour. I chomp down on my lip and still, taking in the sight of the black hair over the tattoos. Twin snakes coil across his torso, one poised to strike, the other watchful and still. They look alive in the dim light, each scale shimmering in blues and greens.
“Bryce?” I whisper.
“Bryce.”
I slowly lower my eyes back to the fabric restraining his erection. It should be easy enough to free, but I take the waistband between my fingers and hesitate. Instead, I grow fascinated by the wet patch near the tip of him. Rubbing my thighs together, I lift my gaze.
“You shouldn’t be surprised,” he mutters.
It sounds ridiculous. “Well, I am.”
Shade reaches his hand out and glides his fingers through my hair, gathering it all to one side. I’m not surprised when he uses his hold to move me forward, and I follow eagerly.
“Stick your tongue out.”
