“But in my experience, every woman is different. She likes different pressure, different techniques. The perfect spot on one woman might be too sensitive to another. So, when she tells me how she likes it, I like to give it to her. Again and again. Until she begs me to stop.”
Autumn is quiet for a moment. “I wish more men understood that.”
“The same is true the other way, too, by the way. Not every guy likes the same thing.”
“Of course.” Autumn pauses. “What else do you like? Besides, a woman speaking up for her pleasure.”
“I like to take my time.” I sit back and consider her question. “A lot of kissing. Listening to the sounds she makes. Tasting her skin. I like to get absorbed by her—the way she affects every one of my senses.”
“Yeah,” she practically purrs. “And then?”
I had not expected quite this reaction. But I like it. “Slowly, I take off her clothes, a layer at a time. I enjoy drawing out her anticipation. I want her trembling for it before I ever touch herthere. When I finally get her undressed, I touch her all over first.”
“Maybe take your time at her nipples?”
“Absolutely. But then I make my way between her thighs with my hands. I want to make sure she’s ready for me, and the best way to do that is to make her come with my hands the first time.”
“Thefirsttime?”
I smirk. “Oh yes, of course. I want her to be satisfied. But we’ve talked about me for far too long. Tell me what you like, Autumn.”
“I don’t know—
“Come on, don’t stop now. You started this. Tell me.”
She sighs. “Okay. I’ve always wanted that thing where you and your partner can’t keep their hands off each other. You know, when no matter where you are, you just have to go for it?”
I sigh at the thought. “Yeah.”
“Like, in the middle of a business day or something, and you two just sneak off to an office and do it up against the wall—
“Or bent over the desk?”
“Bent over it, sitting on top of it, whatever. Maybe both, one right after the other.”
I’m touching myself over my lounge pants without even realizing it. Nothing too vigorous. Justthere. Thinking about the conversation we had the first night out and the way she looked then.“What if you get caught?”
“That’s a part of the fantasy. The fear of getting caught. Makes everything more dangerous.”
“You like the danger, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she gasps the word.
My heart is racing from her words. “Tell me another.”
She takes a sip of something, then says, “A big one of mine is at a crowded place, like a wedding or a banquet or a convention or something. Someplace with lots of people. And we’re so turned on that we go to the bathroom and do it there.”
The talking is too much. I need action. Her mouth, her eyes, her moans, her soft body beneath me. All of it. I want her now. I open my mouth to tell her to come over, but catch myself.
What about tomorrow? And the next day? And our friendship?
One night stands were one thing. But with Autumn? Could we do it once and never do it again? Or could we handle her proposition until relationships came along for either of us? Because I don’t think I’m relationship material right now. I’m not ready for that, and I’m not sure if she is, either.
All this pent up sexual energy has to go somewhere, though.
I tap my foot on the floor, hoping to bounce my leg enough to kill my erection or, at the very least, distract me. “This has been an enlightening conversation, but I need to go—
“We got a little sidetracked, I think. Did I take it too far?” she asks.