Page 88 of Charmed, I'm Sure
He was asking me…what I wanted…?The fuck?
I blinked, thrown. No man had ever asked me that before.
Not knowing how to respond, I defaulted to my usual defense: sarcasm. “What, no quips about being a doctor who can teach me things about my body that even I don’t know?”
That cocky smirk broadened and the heat in his eyes could’ve scorched the earth.
“I could say that,” he murmured, his hand ghosting down my body, “and I’d probably be right.”
His fingers skimmed the valley between my breasts, grazing just enough to make my nipples pebble beneath the lace of my bra. They trailed lower, so achingly slow that I thought I’d crawl out of my skin.
“But even with every anatomy book, lecture, and residency, the only person who can tell me how to make you come, how to make you scream my name until your lungs give out, sweet Magnolia,”—his hand flattened against my stomach and slid to my hip, grinding me against his thigh—“is you.”
Holy Mother of fucks. I was so beyond screwed.
“You know your body better than anyone… for now, anyway.”
Yep. Totally screwed.
His fingers teased the edge of my panties, his pinky dipping just beneath the elastic. My breath hitched, every nerve ending sparking to life. Every word I knew seemedto evaporate.
“Talk to me, sunshine.”
“Lower,” I managed to whisper, barely audible.
He started to pull back instead, a devilish grin tugging at his lips. Instinctively, I grabbed his wrist.
“Be more specific, Magnolia,” he murmured, brushing his nose against mine. His lips were so close, his voice so deep and intimate, I shivered. “Or I’ll do it my way.”
The worst part? That didn’t sound like a threat—it sounded like a promise. And part of me wanted to let him. To let him decide, to give him full control and see what he’d do.
But I knew what he was asking for. He wanted me to take ownership of my own pleasure.
Of course, my brain had turned into goo and could barely form words, much less a coherent response. The first thing it managed to come up with slipped out before my filter caught it.
“I’m not very good at following directions.”
Smooth, Mags. Real smooth.
Taylor’s grin softened into something warm and unbearably tender. He freed his wrist from my hold and cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along my skin. “Lucky for you, I am.”
He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, then whispered, “Think of it like a recipe.”
“A recipe?” I squeaked, tilting my head back as his mouth moved to my neck.
“Mmm.” His lips grazed the sensitive spot where my shoulder met my neck, and I swore my brain short-circuited. “One for your pleasure.”
Sweet baby cheeses.
“I need to know the ingredients, and only you can give them to me.”
His hand slid down my body again, inching closer to where I wanted him most. My breath hitched, every thought scattering.
“I need your words, Magnolia.”
Words. Right. What were those again?
“I, uh. I need you to touch me,” I stammered, feeling heat bloom in my cheeks.
