Page 81 of Scandal
“Have you ever made yourself come?”
My cheeks instantly grow warm as I recall all the times I’ve been alone—in the shower, in my dorm, in my apartment—when I’ve slipped my hand between my legs only to—“No,” I finally answer. “I’ve wanted to, but I always felt?—”
“Embarrassed?”
I nod.
I have no idea where this embarrassment comes from. I was raised in a very sex-positive household. It’s why I had such strong opinions about the idea of virginity when Ash brought it up, and until that moment, I really believed I’d just been too busy to have sex.
I didn’t think I was holding out for the right person.
Or one very specific person.
“If there’s one thing I teach you, it’s how not to be embarrassed anymore. Soon, you’re going to own this confident, sexy side of yourself, and it’s going to be such a fucking honor to coax it out of you.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Giving me lessons?” I say in a flirty tone.
But his expression is anything but flirty. In fact, it’s downright feral as he leans into me. “No, Merc. These are not lessons. I’m not teaching you how to fuck your future husband or boyfriend. What I’m giving you are memories. Memories so deeply ingrained in your mind that every time you think of me, you’ll remember this.” He slides his hand between my legs, andI gasp. “The feel of my hands on you. The knowledge that it was me who gave you your first orgasm, and you’ll remember…” His fingers skim the delicate fabric of my panties. They’re already soaked. “That nothing will ever be as good as this.”
I don’t know whether he said that last part to me or to himself, because as he slides my panties to the side, he groans as if he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
“Spread your legs, love. Let me see you.”
Part of me wants to do the exact opposite because revealing the most intimate part of my body to him feels like stepping off a cliff. But maybe it’s the kind of cliff I want to jump off? Like a roller coaster at Six Flags—scary, but also a major rush.
I decide to hike my skirt up a little more, giving myself more leverage, and slowly, as seductively as I can, spread my legs to give him the view he’s dying to see.
I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction.
The man looks riveted. Fucking mesmerized.
I figured that with how many pussies he’s seen in his life, he would regard mine as any other, maybe even be pleasantly pleased, but the way he’s staring at me makes me feel like I have the prettiest damn cunt in the whole world.
And that does all sorts of things to my self-confidence.
“I would love to get down on my knees right now and bury my face between those thighs, but I promised you we’d go slow.”
My mouth falls open. “You would like that?” The men in my romance novels love to go down on their women, and sure, he wrote a song about it, but I figured it was just one of those things women fantasize about but never actually get.
“Fuck yes,” he says, still mesmerized by the sight of me. “But first, you’re going to come on my fingers.”
I might just come from listening to him talk about it. God, his voice is sexy. No wonder he’s made a fortune off it.
He angles my chin so I’m facing him. His pale blue eyes sweep over mine, and then he bends forward, and our lips finally touch. It feels like a lifetime since he kissed me in that lake. Those weeks afterward, I worried I might never feel this again. To feel him again.
He leans forward, distracting me with slow, languid kisses when I feel the first brush of his fingers between my legs.
“Oh,” I gasp, breaking the kiss as a familiar sensation jolts up my spine. It’s the same feeling I get when I read a spicy scene in one of my books or when I catch Asher just out of the shower, still dripping wet in a towel.
Lust.
But this time it’s so much more intense, and he’s barely touched me.
He bends down to kiss the nape of my neck and my collarbone as his fingers explore my body. At first, he moves slowly, as if intent on discovering every inch of me. But when he grazes my clit and I let out a low moan, something in him seems to snap.
“Fucking hell, Merc. That moan. It’s been haunting my bloody dreams,” he groans. “Let’s see if I can make you do it again.”
He uses his index finger to rub a slow circle over the bundle of nerves, and I nearly come undone. My stomach tightens, and my clit throbs. I just need—“More,” I demand.
