I nuzzled my nose into her temple and grinned as she carried on chuckling at some stupid show we were watching. It was a Netflix show about new Australian moms and Jessica was tickled pink about it. I swear, I didn’t get it, but then maybe it was because I wasn’t a chick. She did though. She thought it was hilarious.
Everything from awkward post-labor sex scenes to cheap copies of expensive strollers.
I was content to just sit here with her as she chuckled away. We were making progress, that I knew. She was here in my arms without complaint. We were tucked up together on the sofa, her body curved into mine and mine into hers. Like some kind of perfect yin and yang. She was resting against me, her hands on my lap—not where I’d have liked them even more to be, but still, I was happy for the huge step forward.
I was even happier when she’d tensed at the sex on the scene. At first, I’d been concerned, then I’d seen the slow rasp of her breathing and had realized it wasn’t because she was scared or stressed at seeing that while I was there, but because—the totally unsexy sex scene—had, for whatever reason, done something for her.
Had she avoided anything with sex in it for all these years?
I could easily envisage it.
She was stubborn enough to do just that, and the show didn’t exactly scream that there’d be sex scenes in it. It had come as a surprise and she’d sailed through it wonderfully.
I closed my eyes as I rested my head back against the sofa. Not because I was sleepy but because I wanted to think about something that was bothering me at work. A recent acquisition had been giving us some troubles thanks to the board of directors being a bunch of dicks.
It was an HR nightmare, and no mistake.
How long I zoned out, I wasn’t sure, but then, I felt her hand tighten on my thigh. My eyes popped open and I saw she’d turned in my hold and was staring at me.
“You slept.” The statement wasn’t accusatory but amused.
“No. I rested my eyes.”
“That’s bull. You slept. You were snoring.” She grinned. “You should have said you didn’t like the show.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t like or dislike it, was thinking about other things.”
“Oh? What other things?”
“Work, I suppose,” I admitted sheepishly, wondering if she’d get mad that my attention hadn’t been on her.
She sighed, surprising me by admitting, “That brain of yours. You need to rest it more.”
I laughed. “If I rested it, it wouldn’t know what to do with itself.”
She snorted. “All the more reason to get it used to you having a break. We all need some downtime, love.”
That was a new nickname. I loved it!
“I try. Mostly when I’m with you,” I prompted her, hoping to score some points for that.
“I know.” She leaned up and pressed her lips to mine. My eyes flared in surprise at that. I usually was the one to instigate these things; anything from holding hands to linking arms or hugging, always started from me.
And the light kisses we’d shared were no different.
This was the first time and it made my heart pound—that she had this amount of power over me should have concerned me. With another woman, my heart only pounded during sex. But this was Jessica’s right over me. It was exactly how it should be, I reasoned.
Her lips were soft at first, hesitant. I could tell she was trying to figure out the mechanics of kissing, like she’d been out of the game so long that she’d forgotten how to do it. I didn’t push her or pressure her. I just stayed exactly where I was and let her acclimate to the fact she could and should do with me whatever she wanted.
She shifted at my side and disappointment flooded me as I thought she may have been pulling away. But I was wrong. She swiped her knees under her and knelt, using her new position to loom over me slightly. The move changed the pressure she could exert on my mouth. Her breath brushed over my lips and I could feel the moistness but also, the hard bursts—she was pushing herself to do this.
Uncertain if I should slow things down, I decided to let her have her head.
She knew what she was doing. Knew it better than I did.
If she wanted to use me as a guinea pig, then she could.
She tilted her head as we supped from one another, and I found myself in the unusual position of being submissive. I was a dominant lover normally. I took charge of both my pleasure and the woman I was with. It was unusual to just rest here, not resisting or actively doing anything to improve things for us.