Page 60 of Sex Positive

“Charlie.” Her name on his lips relaxes her. “Come here.”

Gently, he takes her hand, pulling her up his body. She slings her leg over him, knees bracketing his thighs, and his strong and capable hands curve around her hips, his fingers digging into her bare backside. When she puts her hands on his chest, she feels his heartbeat, but on the surface he is calm, watching her with a heady arousal that makes her forget she’s kneeling half naked on his bed.

Slowly, he leans forward and presses his lips to her throat. “Breathe, Charlie. We’ll only go as far as you want.”

He traces his mouth over her neck, his lips searing her skin. She gasps, desperate to hear her name on his lips again.

She channels his confidence from earlier. “I want to. If you teach me how.”

Exploring the wide expanse of his chest, she moves her fingers over his powerfully built shoulders, running them down the biceps she’s tried to ignore. Maintaining eye contact, she drags her hand down his stomach and presses it to his groin.

He’s so hard.

“Jesusfuck,” he groans, tipping his head back against the pillows. She pauses, hesitating, but he grips her thighs. “Go on. I love when you touch me.”

Slowly, she rubs her hand over his length, feeling his size. She has very little prior reference, but he feels bigger than she expects.

Pressing her free hand into the pillows, she leans forward and brings her mouth to his throat. He gasps. Taking this as encouragement, she sucks on his skin, tasting salt, inhaling the scent of what she thinks is his body wash. His fingers grip her hip, digging in hard enough to bruise, and she traces a path up the taut tendons in his neck to his pulse point.

“God, Charlie,” he breathes.

She pulls back, smiling.

His eyes are glassy with desire, his cheeks flushed.

Her fingers dip under the waistband of his joggers. “Can I—”

He nods before she finishes. “Fuck,please.”

He lifts his hips off the bed, and using both hands, she drags his joggers and boxers down, pulling them all the way off his legs. Her mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, erect, tip glistening, and of Wesley Quinn completely naked, spread out before her like the most mouthwatering feast. She traces the line of his obliques with her fingers, and his stomach muscles jump and flex under her touch. When she slides her hand along the length of his cock, he shivers.

“Touch me,” he rasps. Before she can comply, he grabs her wrist, licks her palm, and places it firmly on his shaft. “Like this.”

He wraps her fingers around him, shifting his hand along his length. His eyes flutter closed, his lips pressed together. If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume he was in pain.

“Tighter,” he grits out. “With a twist at the top. You won’t hurt me.”

She follows his instructions, twisting her wrist like he said.

He groans, his breathing ragged. “Oh my god.” He throws an arm over his eyes, and she moves her hand faster. “Oh my god. Keep going—just—just like that—fuck.”

“This is okay?” she whispers.

He nods, not looking at her, his mouth falling open with a moan. “God, yes. Like that. Exactly like that. You have no idea how long—keep going—”

All she wants is to keep doing whatever has him making that noise, his moan thrilling, the way she’s rendered him incoherent. A riot of heat and pressure uncoils in her core once more when his groans escalate, his body trembling.

She’s never felt so powerful.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck, Charlie, I’m gonna—”

He groans, making a noise she’s never heard from him. His entire body shudders as he finds release on her hand.

His room goes quiet except for his panting.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

She pulls her hand away from his cock, and he groans softly. Dropping his arm, he lifts his face, a languid smile on his lips.