“It’s not mine,” I blurt out quickly, and Neil looks surprised at first, but then he just shakes his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“No.”
“I…”
“Finley, I may like to tease you, but I’m never going to shame you for touching yourself, and nobody else should, either. You are a damn lovely woman, and you deserve to feel good about yourself. You deserve to make yourself feel good.”
Well, now I don’t exactly know what the hell to say to that. If someone told me last week that Neil would be in my house and talking about me masturbating, I would have laughed in their face.
“But I’m here now,” he says, “and I want to make you feel good. Will you let me do that for you?”
I want to point out the fact that he basically just asked for consent. Score one for feminism. He’s a fast learner: I’ll give him that. I don’t want to ruin the moment, though. Besides, an orgasm? Provided by someone that’s not my little blue toy?
I could go for that.
“Yes,” I whisper, and he cups my neck and pulls my mouth to his. Neil’s a good kisser. I knew that from before, when I kissed him, but now it’s even better. Now I have the distinct understanding that this thing between us is going somewhere, and I know that place is somewhere really, really good.
And I want more.
“Please,” I whisper. I don’t like begging. I never intended to beg him, but Neil makes good on his promise not to shame or embarrass me, and he leads me to the bed. It’s a little messy, and sort-of made. He pushes my laundry to the floor, grabs the vibrator, and then takes my hand. Together, we lie down on the bed and then we make out there like a couple of sneaky teenagers.
And it feels good.
For the first time in a very long time, I’m not worried about making the right choice or the good choice. I’m just going with what feels good, and what feels incredible is being kissed by this man. His hands start to roam: first my breasts, and then my tummy, but I refuse to feel self-conscious or embarrassed by this.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he groans against my lips, and he kisses me harder, deeper, and then I hear the vibrator flick on.
He doesn’t take my clothes off.
He doesn’t reach under my shirt or slide his hand down my pants.
I desperately want him to, but Neil is either the world’s biggest tease or the world’s biggest genius because he seems to be completely happy taking his time. He runs the vibrator up my leg. I can feel it buzzing against my skin. Then he reaches the edge of my skirt, and he starts to slowly slide his hand up there.
Instantly, my pussy clenches, wanting more.
Fuck, I want so much more.
My body seems to suddenly be dying of thirst and Neil is like a cold glass of sun tea on a warm summer day.
Please.
When he reaches my panties, he presses the vibrator right to my clit and starts moving it in little circles. He stays on top of my underwear, and I can’t decide whether I love it or hate it, but either way, the heat inside of me starts to grow.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “Come for me.”
It doesn’t take much. Apparently, I’m right on the edge because everything hits me at once like some sort of explosion, and it feels like I’m on fire and frozen in ice at the same time. I come silently, wanting to cry out but not being brave enough, and he seems to understand because after he just kisses me over and over and over.
When I finally come to my senses, I look up at him, and he’s smiling at me.
“So,” he says with a little smirk. “Do you still want me to sleep in the guest room?”
Chapter Four
Neil