About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(32)
Obviously, I had to be smart about this. I didn’t want to scare her away. “I know you’ve only dated two men. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
A choked noise escaped her. “I’d rather not. There wasn’t anything remarkable about those men, or the experiences they so kindly took part in.”
She was getting defensive. I needed to soothe her beast, stroke it. My voice turned gravelly as I asked, “Did either of them do something you didn’t like? Did they touch you in a way you felt uncomfortable? “ Because if they did, I would find them and f*ck them up.
She sighed lightly. “No, Quinn. It was nothing like that.” Then she paused, “Well, actually…”
Her hesitance was met by my, “Go on, Maya.”
“Well, the first guy was pretty rough with me. Not in a rape sort of way, but I think he just liked it like that. He was very dominant and bossy. Every touch on my body was harsh. When he put his fingers i-in—” She stumbled then added quietly, “You know where, it was rough and I wasn’t ready for it. Either he didn’t know or he didn’t care, but he persisted. It didn’t feel good. He’d squeeze my boobs hard then pinch my nipples. I didn’t get any enjoyment out of it. But I tried one more time with another guy.”
“The guy who used oral sex as a lullaby,” I confirmed.
Her husky laugh washed over me, bringing a smile to my face. “Yeah, he was sweet, but he had a feather touch. I barely felt a thing, and he was always looking for confirmation. It was a big turn off. I didn’t think sex needed instruction every minute or so. It was weird. And that’s it. I never saw either of them again.”
I didn’t think that was it. I wanted more. So I asked, “Okay, good. That’s that from your experience, but what about them? What had you done with them, with their bodies, and did you like it?”
Her groan sounded muffled, as if she’d stuck her head in a pillow. “Do we have to talk about this?”
I clucked my tongue. “Maya, Maya, Maya…relax. This is nothing. Just talk. You’re doing great, so keep it going.”
She blew out a long breath. “You’re right; I’m being silly. Um. Okay. The first guy, I-uh…touched him. Well, he grabbed my hand and put it on his…uh…penis…then kept his hand over mine as a guide. He liked it rough and hard, to the point I thought I was hurting him, but he came, so I guess it didn’t. And the second guy asked me to touch him, so I did. He felt harder than the first guy, but I couldn’t see, because both times, we’d been in the dark. I’ve never seen one up close or in the light. Well, not in real life. Anyways, the second guy took longer to come, but I could see his face in the moonlight, and the face he made when he came…” She lowered her voice in embarrassment. “…well, I liked how he looked then. It made me feel sexy, powerful.”
My lips tilted to the side in a small smile. “Good. I’m glad. You know that feeling you got? Well, guys get it too, but women are a little harder to please, so when a guy can’t do that, he can: a, get angry or upset, or b, overcompensate. It sounds like you happened to share these experiences with guys from either ends of the spectrum, so on behalf of men everywhere, sorry about that.”
Inserting humor into the situation seemed to work at calming Maya, because she chuckled, “Apology accepted. What else do you want to know?”
My next question would likely lead to her hanging up on me, but still, I enquired as naturally as possible, “Do you touch yourself? And if so, how often?”
She gasped, “Quinn!”
I shrugged. “What? It’s not a big deal. It’s natural. God, you know what I do for a living, and I still masturbate about four times a week. And before you say something, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s an amazing form of stress relief.” I figured sharing my own sexual appetite would push her to reveal hers.
She sounded amazed. “Four times a week? You do that four times a week?”
“I like sex, Maya.” I may have sounded a little defensive there.
Her quick but sincere adding of, “I’m not judging you, Quinn,” soothed the minor burn. “It’s just that I’ve never spoken to someone like this before, and I guess I’m a little curious about male habits as much as I am about everything else.”
She was opening up. I couldn’t help but feel a small amount of pride at the way I was handling this. “Ask me anything. I’ll always be honest with you. Ask me something. What are you most curious about?”
Silence. She remained silent for a whole ten seconds before blurting out, “Everything! I’m curious about everything. Jesus, Quinn, I’m twenty-seven and know the basics of sex, the mechanics, but nothing else. I don’t know how it feels for a man. I don’t know why they like women to go down on them. I don’t know how soon you can have sex after you’ve come. I don’t know anything!”
My cock had gone from a semi to a full-blown hard-on at her little frustrated speech. I looked down at it and it jerked as if to say, ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Touch me!’
I ignored my cock and answered her. “I’m assuming it feels for a man the way it feels for a woman. Like light and sound meeting in a clashing explosion of warmth, frustration, and need. My body temp gets hot during sex. I normally sweat, not just from exertion, but also from demand. And I love the taste of sweat on a woman’s skin during sex. It means she’s working just as hard to take me there as I am her. It tastes like success.” I finished my explanation, shook my head, and uttered, “That wasn’t a very good explanation. Sorr—”