Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
But I want her to know this.
She needs to know this.
I don't want her with some idiotic college freshman who doesn't know where the clitoris is. Who thinks his dick is so magic he doesn't have to warm her up. Or finish her off.
Who treats her orgasm like an afterthought. Or an obligation.
Fuck, I hate this asshole so much and he doesn't even exist.
Daisy deserves the best.
She deserves a guy who asks her what she wants, who listens, who reads her like a fucking book.
The way her breath hitches as he goes left.
The way her nails punch as he goes right.
The way—
"Holden? Are you okay?"
Fuck me. There's no way to have this conversation without getting explicit. And there's no way to get explicit without blood flowing south.
But fuck it.
There are worse things than my cock demanding attention.
"You groan when you like your drink," I say.
Her cheeks flush. "You do too."
"It's human nature. You like something, you make it known."
Her eyes fix on me. "That's it?"
"At the end of the day, yeah. I'm not gonna say it's hard, cause—"
Her gaze goes right to my crotch.
"—even for me, that's a shitty joke."
She laughs anyway.
"It's not easy. But it's simple. And fun." I reach for her hand.
She places it in my palm.
"It's like this." I run my finger over the back of her hand. A medium pressure. Then a little harder. Softer.
There. Her eyelids flutter together.
Her breath hitches as my fingers brushes the space between her knuckles.
I try not to think about the implications. "You—some women are loud. They know what they want. Demand it even. Some women climb on top of me, pull my jeans to my knees, take over."
"Is that what you like?"
"I like everything."
"Everything?"
"Most things." I force my eyes to her wrist. "It's not about coming for me. I have a hand. I can fuck myself anytime I want. I'm pretty good at it."
"A lot of practice?"
"Yeah."
"Do you…" She watches my finger glide over her skin. "What is it about, then?"
"It's about figuring out what someone likes. Making them come." My balls tighten. "Most women are like you. Shy. They don't know what they want. Or they aren't ready to say. So I read their bodies. Try different pressure." I make my touch lighter.
Her breath hitches.
"Different patterns." I try circles. Zigzags. Back and forth.
"Oh."
"Speeds." I do a faster circle. "Places." I run my fingers over her knuckles. "I watch her, to see what she likes, where she needs me."
"Oh."
"Most women know they touch themselves. But they don't know how to translate that into put your head right here."
Her eyes go wide. "You do that with—"
"Of course."
"Are you… with a lot of people?"
"Not a lot."
"You don't like it?" Her voice is nervous.
"Fuck no. I love it."
"Is it…" She looks toward the stairs. The showers are off now. There are footsteps. And some music. Oliver's. But the space is quiet. "Why don't you do it a lot?"
"It's personal."
"And women—" she nods to my crotch. "Do you have them—"
"I don't have women do anything. It's about what we both want."
"Oh."
"But you… want that?"
Fuck, her lips are pink. Her eyes are wide. Her hair is falling over her cheeks.
It's impossible to picture anything else.
Daisy sliding out of her chair. On her knees. Hands on my swimsuit, tongue sliding over her lips, eyes on fire.
Her mouth around my cock.
Me pinning her to the couch. Pushing her bikini bottom aside. Tasting every inch of her.
"What?" I blink. Stare at the sunset. Anything to distract me.
"Do you… of course you do. All guys do. The guys at my school, God the way they'd talk… it's like they expect women to just do that. Just because they're so amazing."
"They're just posturing," I say. "And stupid. Don't hang out with a guy like that."
"I know."
"Or a guy who… If you're into that, go for it. And if you like it rough, guys ordering you around, calling you awful things, whatever. It's cool if you like that. But if a guy does it without asking, he's a fucking asshole."
Surprise streaks her expression. "Being called… what?"
Fuck, that's a long list. "It's a wild world out there, kid."
"Yeah, but… specifically? The top three."
"Slut is a big one. Cum-slut too."
"But… why? How…"
"It's normal dirty talk."
She shakes her head no way.
"Yeah, baby, on your knees. Take it. You're a slut for my cock, aren't you?"
She goes pale. "People are into that?"
"Yeah." I bring the tea to her hands.
She stares at the mug, dumbstruck. Nods. Takes a sip. "I thought—"
"You don't watch porn?"
"Luna has shown me some stuff. But it's more… nice, I guess."
"It's okay to like nice. Or mean. Or dirty. Whatever. You'll figure it out once you meet someone you trust."
"Right."
"And, hey, if you want a guy to call you a cum-slut, I won't judge."
She shakes her head no way.
"Don't knock it till you try it."