Good Girl(51)

"You're too big and it's too tight that way. I'm not very good at this. It's too soon, I have to work up to doing it like that. It works better for me if you're doing it. Did you pay Vince already? You should ask for a refund or a reduced rate or something since I cannot do it all the ways you want to do it. I'm sorry. Can we do it a different way where you're the doer? Like doggie style maybe? Then you'd be in charge and I'm better at this when you're in charge and on top." She's waving her hands around as she talks and I grab one and pull her down on top of me.

"Lydia." I pause until I know I've got her attention.

"What?"

"I don't want you to be sorry."

"Okay," she agrees but she drops her eyes and her shoulders are still tense.

"We don't have to do a position that makes you uncomfortable. Ever."

"Okay."

"Though I promise you, riding me like a filthy cowgirl is a position you'll enjoy very much when you work up a little confidence."

"Hmm, maybe." She shrugs but she's drawing circles on my chest with her fingertip and peeking at me beneath her lashes, a blush again coloring her skin.

"And until then there are many, many more configurations we can try."

That works.

"How many?" Her interest is piqued and she's wiggled closer. Her eyes are shining at me in that way that makes me feel like I'm the center of the fucking universe.

"So many. But we're going to skip doggie style for now, as lovely as an offer as it was, and as much as I'd like you on your hands and knees while I yank on your hair and pound into you from behind."

"Oh." She pouts, making no effort to hide her expression, her brow furrowed and her lips turned down. "Why can't we do that right now? I like the sound of that."

"Because I can't see your face that way. And I want to see your face while I'm fucking you."

"Ohhh, okay." She draws out the word ‘oh.’ "I like your face too." Her lips curve into an impish smile. "I like seeing your face all the time though. I'm especially looking forward to seeing your face on Wednesday."

"You," I tell her, then roll us over so she's beneath me, "are quite the minx for such a good girl." I kiss her until she's relaxed and digging a heel into my ass trying to pull me closer. I kneel on the bed and bend her knees up to her chest, keeping her knees and calves together and placing both of her ankles on my left shoulder. Then I sink into her. God, she feels good. I watch her eyes widen and her lips form a tiny o. She blinks rapidly then smiles.

"Oh, wow. I had no idea." She shakes her head against the pillow and grips my forearms with her hands. "I always assumed my legs needed to be spread open in order to have sex. The more you know, huh?" She scrunches her eyes shut and shakes her head again. "What a dumb thing to say."

I move one of her ankles so I can kiss the sole of her foot and flex my hips until I'm so deep inside of her my vision goes hazy for a moment. Fucking ecstasy, every inch of me embraced by her. Slick and warm and tight.

"It's not dumb." Her ignorance is a fucking turn-on and I know I'm a bastard for feeling that way, but fuck it. She's twenty-two, not sixteen, and I'm enjoying the hell out of being the one to introduce her to sex. To watch her squirm and blush. To answer her questions and broaden her horizons. She's so convinced I have some mysterious fetish but I think my fetish is her. Teaching her.

"Well, I am a fairly clever problem-solver," she says with a grin that looks like a secret. Then she tucks her knees tighter to her chest, changing the penetration, and her eyes widen.

"How does this feel?" I ask. "Are you okay?" She's nodding before I'm done asking.

"Good. This is good. More of this, please." She squeezes me and everything gets impossibly tighter and hotter and she's so fucking slick and responsive and perfect as I slide in and out of her. Long slick strokes in and out. She's perfect. Too perfect for me, but I put that out of my mind because I've got enough to fucking think about right now and my only priority at the moment is hearing ‘Rhys, Rhys, Rhys’ fall from her lips.

That's how she says it when she comes. Every time. 'Oh, oh, oh' followed by 'Rhys, Rhys, Rhys.'

"I want you closer," she says now, her arms reaching for my neck. She drops her knees and spreads her thighs so my hips fit between. Then she pulls me to her, chest to chest. Her perfect little tits are pressed into my chest, our stomachs are pressed flesh to flesh and I hold her head in my hands and kiss her.

"You're nice," she whispers but that can't be right. I'm not nice. I'm paying her for fuck’s sake. She's just doing her job. A job she can't possibly need and is either terrible at or great at depending on your viewpoint. I add that to the pile of shit to think about later because Lydia is running her hands over my ass and flexing her hips beneath me so I focus on not improving that average sex time she's so obsessed with and ensuring she's going to feel this all day tomorrow.

After we've gotten to the ‘Rhys, Rhys, Rhys’ I tell myself I should grab my laptop and send one last email to the London office so I'll have a response by the time I wake up, but Lydia's ass is pressed against my side and her hair is splayed out on my pillow so fuck it. Just fuck it. I'll send the email in the morning.