“And it won’t be gentle. I won’t be tender. You’ll take it hard, every hour. Any time I demand you strip and submit, you’ll bow until I’m ready to let you suck my dick. And you’ll thank me for the fucking honor.”
“Yes,” she said, bucking up at the impact of orgasm that hit her belly so hard she gasped for oxygen. “Yes!”
Panting, she was lost to everything except her awareness of Score next to her. He was probably giving her a chance to return to Earth. As she did, the realization of what she’d just done hit her hard.
Yanking her hand from her underwear, Shyla didn’t know whether to stay statue still or bolt for the hills. But her ass was falling off the couch, so she had to sit up and that meant grabbing for what was closest: Score’s thigh.
Shyla pushed up just a fraction before it hit her that she’d wiped her hand on him. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she cried.
The arm he had on the back of the couch was crooked so his fist could support his head. Shyla was still in the shadow of his body, but was on the cusp of bolting when he took her wrist.
“I’m gonna have that sweet nectar all over me soon enough,” he said, guiding her hand to his mouth so he could kiss the fingertips she’d just used to pleasure herself.
With her mouth open, Shyla froze when he parted his lips and sucked her fingers, squashing them between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Drawing the fingers out, he licked between them. “I will be. Soon.”
Her God? He was already and she couldn’t believe he didn’t know it. “I’m afraid,” she confessed.
His relaxed expression suddenly became a scowl. He lowered her hand. “Of me?”
Either she’d offended him or disappointed him. Her free hand leaped to his chest, forcing her to twist all the way toward him.
“No,” she said, knowing that was his fear. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you. I’m afraid of me.”
“Don’t think about that,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand again. “We’re doing this right.”
Building the trust before rushing into anything. That’s what he meant; they were taking it slow. Though doing that might be the end of her. Worried that she’d already conveyed herself as a selfish lover, Shyla hadn’t done anything for him, and wanted to right that… somehow.
Dropping her hand from his chest to his thigh, she slid it upward. “Would you like me to…”
Taking the hand he had in his grip to the one that was moving, he captured them both. “No.” Just no. “You have to take the pill for seven days before we’re clear.” And he’d already said that he didn’t trust himself to stop. She trusted he would if she asked him to, but Shyla doubted stopping would be on her mind once they started. “Have you been tested?”
That question diverted her thoughts. “Have I been…”
“Tested. I meant what I said about there being nothing between our bodies. I want to be free to take you any way I want. I’ve been tested and cleared, I’m good.”
“I… well, yes, I suppose so. The doctor did a bunch of tests when I registered. I don’t know if all the results are back, but I can—”
“Good. Call them tomorrow.” Releasing her hands, he eased back. “Go pour two glasses of scotch.”
Straightening up, she put her hands to the edge of the couch and began to slide forward. Before rising, she narrowed an eye and twisted to look over her shoulder.
“Phoenix, I…”
The confession had lodged in her throat a couple of times, but she’d promised herself to be honest with him. There were only so many times the moment could go by before she was just plain lying to him.
“What is it?”
Sinking against the back of the couch, she was pleased when he straightened his arm along the backrest again.
“I have to tell you something… about me and I… I’m nervous to tell you.”
“Why? I told you, I want to know everything. I won’t judge. I can take it.”
Peeking up at him, she rested her head on his arm. “You will?” He nodded once, but she could already see the concern on his face. “Even if it’s about sex… about my sexual history?”
He moved away just a little to get a better look at her, but his arm stayed behind her head. “What about it? Shyla, if someone hurt you—”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” she said, flipping onto her side and touching a ripple in his tee-shirt.
“If you had to sell it—”
“I’ve never done it,” she said before he went through every depravity and desperation he could think of. She kept toying with the ripple between two of her fingers. “I… I fooled around with a boyfriend in high school, but I wasn’t ready then. I thought I’d lose it in college, but with my grandfather and then Stan…”
His arm withdrew as he sat up straight and shifted to the edge of the couch, rubbing a hand over his mouth. She didn’t like that he’d left her there, looking at his back, but appreciated that he needed a minute to process.
“I know it seems ridiculous and it wasn’t through lack of trying. I did try to go on dates, but there was never anyone to be there for Bernard and Stan. I couldn’t just leave them. I lived in an old people neighborhood, there was no one my age around and I… It just didn’t happen for me.”
He got up and strode to the bar. Shyla stayed on the couch, waiting while he poured and gulped down the scotch she maybe should have got for him before confessing the truth.
He drank another generous measure.
