Satisfaction Guaranteed(31)

“Obviously, I’d rather my body threw a freaking parade, with trumpets, a band, and the whole nine yards. But sex isn’t about just the orgasm.” Her tone is passionate, as if she’s making a speech.

“Why isn’t it?” I toss back, playing devil’s advocate, because I don’t buy her theory that orgasms are an afterthought. Orgasms are the motherfucking thought.

She nudges me with her elbow. “Oh, c’mon. An orgasm lasts for thirty seconds. Good sex should last longer. If the whole part before the orgasm is no good, what’s the point of the O?”

I shake my head. “That’s like saying looking at a mouthwatering piece of cherry pie is just as good as eating it. You don’t simply want to look at the pie. You want to devour the pie too.” I take a beat then slide my hand down her belly. “For the record, I also want to devour you, so you’re both the pie and the observer of the pie in that metaphor.”

She holds up a finger to make a point. “But you can enjoy the high from the smell, maybe even take a bite of the pie. Not everyone eats an entire slice.”

I give her a most skeptical look. “But is one little nibble of a delicious cherry pie enough?”

She runs her hand through my hair. “It was enough for me. It was great. You need to understand that. I felt it everywhere. Tingles spread through my body. It was intense; it was electric.” Her tone dips lower, a little smoky, a lot sexy. She shivers as she describes how she felt, almost as if she’s feeling it again. “I want you to know that.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking the compliment like a gentleman, since that seems to be important to her. “But I still want you to feel as good as you possibly can. I want you to experience la petite mort.”

“Me too. And I wanted to. And I thought I might. I was hoping I might. I felt like I was racing to the edge. For a few minutes, I was sure it was going to happen. I had it clutched in the palm of my hand. But then it’s like it disappeared, and I knew I wasn’t going to.”

“Why do you think you don’t come?”

She taps her temple. “I’m in my head too much.”

I nod, marinating on this information, then diving deeper. “Where was your head fifteen minutes ago when you knew you weren’t going to come?”

“I was thinking about how it was our first time together. How much I wanted it. How great it would be to finally come, and once I thought that, my orgasm ran away.”

Everything clicks into place. “You think too much. You don’t relax.”

“Ya suppose?”

I laugh at her droll reply. “And you think too hard about coming. You put pressure on yourself.”

She shrugs as if conceding the point. “Perhaps.”

The doctor in me continues to probe the problem, hunting for a solution. “Can you come in other ways?”

She nods. “Vibrator mostly.”

I flick out my tongue, asking the question.

“Sometimes.”

I waggle my fingers.

“Now and then.”

“But the vibrator always works?”

“Complete success. Never fails.”

I shake my head in frustration. “Vibrators. I swear. They’re going to replace men soon. You won’t need us.”

“We kind of don’t for the most part.”

“Thanks,” I say drily. “But back to the case. You can come. There’s nothing impeding you physically. No underlying condition. So basically you are a total type A in bed. Which explains why you attacked me like a tiger.”

Her jaw drops. She’s incredulous. “What are you talking about?”

“You were going quickly so you wouldn’t have to contemplate a thing. But here’s what I think.”

She shoots me an amused grin. “Do tell, pussy doctor.”

A laugh bursts from me. “I am indeed the pussy doc, and here’s my prognosis for your gorgeous, sexy, glorious pussy. You’re stuck in a rut. You haven’t come, so you think you can’t, so you try to not think, and that’s like saying Don’t picture cats while I talk to you about cats. And all you think about are cats.”

She gives me a quizzical look. “Would you like me to think about kitties while you fuck me?”

“Yes and no.” I pretend to put on a stethoscope and act as if I’m examining her. She laughs as I move the imaginary stethoscope over her throat. “Yup. You’ve lost your purr.”

She imitates a feline who’s pleased.

“Not buying it. That was fake. But don’t worry. We’re going to get your purr back.”

“Get it back? Doctor, I’ve never had it.”

“That’s the saddest story I’ve ever heard, but I’m an optimist.” I run my finger down her side by her breast, along the curve of her waist as goose bumps rise on her skin. “And a scientist and a problem-solver. Also, I’m willing to sacrifice myself to the cause.”

“What cause is that?”

“Your orgasm cause. That’s the only cause that matters. We’re going to crack the case.”

She lifts a skeptical brow. “We?”

I nod, resolute. “Yes. We.”

“In one night?”

I wave a hand dismissively. “Please. That’s not enough time. I need a week. We’re going to spend a week in Tahiti, and I promise by the end of the seven days, I’ll get you purring. It’s a one hundred percent satisfaction guaranteed promise.”