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But I don’t move. Embarrassment pools in my cheeks.
Then his hand grips mine, and he brings our hands down my stomach and to the top of my thighs.
“If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to, but I think you’ll like it,” Hardin says softly.
“I do,” I decide.
He smiles knowingly. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m just . . . nervous,” I admit. I feel much more comfortable with Hardin than with anyone I’ve known in my entire life, and I know he won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable, not in a malicious way at least. I am just overthinking this—people do it all the time. Right?
“Don’t be. You’ll like it.” He bites down on the corner of his mouth, and I smile nervously. “And don’t worry: if you can’t get yourself off, I’ll do it for you. It’s no foreskin off my back.”
“Hardin!” I groan in embarrassment and plop my head back down on the pillow. I hear him laugh lightly and say, “Like this.”
He spreads my fingers. My heartbeat increases dramatically as he brings my hand . . . there. It feels so strange. Foreign and just strange. I’m so used to the way Hardin’s hands feel on me, the way his fingers are rough and callused, the way they are long and slender, the way they know exactly how to touch me, how to . . .
“Just do this.” Hardin’s voice is thick with lust as he guides my fingers to the most sensitive spot. I’m trying not to think about what we’re doing . . . what I’m doing?
“How does it feel?” Hardin asks.
“I . . . don’t know,” I mutter.
“Yes, you do. Tell me, Tess,” he half demands and removes his hand from mine. I whimper at the loss of contact and begin to remove my hand. “No, keep it there, baby.” His tone makes my hand snap back to the spot. “Continue,” he commands lightly.
I gulp and close my eyes, trying to repeat what Hardin was doing. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as when he does it, but it most certainly doesn’t feel bad either. The pressure in my lower stomach begins to build again, and I screw my eyes shut, trying to pretend that it’s Hardin’s fingers that are making me feel this way.
“You look so hot touching yourself in front of me,” Hardin says and I can’t help but moan and continue to trace the pattern that he’s shown my fingers.
When I open my eyes slightly, I see Hardin’s hand rubbing over his jeans. Oh my God. Why is this so hot? This is something I thought people only did in naughty films, not real life. Hardin makes everything so hot, no matter how strange it is. His eyes are focused between my legs, and his teeth are digging into his bottom lip, making his silver ring stand up taut.
The second I feel he may catch me looking at him, I snap my eyes shut, I shut off my subconscious. This is a normal and natural thing, everyone does it . . . just not everyone has someone watching them, but if they had Hardin, they surely would.
“Such a good girl for me, always,” he says into my ear, nipping at my earlobe. His breath is hot and smells of mint, and it makes me want to scream and melt into the sheets at the same time.
“Do it, too,” I breathe, barely recognizing my voice.
“What?”
“Do what I’m doing . . .” I say, not wanting to use the word.
“You want that?” He sounds surprised.
“Yes . . . please, Hardin.” I’m getting so close and I need this, I need to take some of the focus off of me, and honestly, seeing him rubbing himself just now did wicked things to me, and I want to see him do it again, that and more.
“Okay,” he answers simply. Hardin is so confident when it comes to sex. I wish I was the same way.
I hear the zipper of his jeans, and I try to slow down the movements of my fingers; if I don’t, this will be over very, very soon.
“Open your eyes, Tess,” he demands, and I oblige.
His hand wraps around his bare length, and my eyes go wide at the perfect sight as I watch Hardin do something I never thought I would see anyone do.
He leans his head down again. This time he plants a single kiss on my neck before bringing his mouth back to my ear. “You like this, don’t you? You like to watch me pleasure myself, you are so dirty, Tess, so fucking dirty.”
My eyes never leave his hand between his legs. His hand moves faster as he continues talking to me. “I’m not going to last long watching you, baby. You have no idea how fucking hot this is.” He groans and I do the same.
I no longer feel uncomfortable. I am close, so close, and I want Hardin to be close, too. “It feels so good, Hardin . . .” I moan, not caring how stupid or desperate I sound. It’s the truth, and he makes me feel like it’s okay to feel this way.
“Fuck. Say something else,” he grits out.
“I want you to come, Hardin, just picture my mouth around you . . .” The filthy words tumble from my lips, and I feel the warmth on my stomach as he releases onto my flaming skin. That does it for me, and I come undone from my own doing and close my eyes as I repeat his name over and over.
When I open my eyes, Hardin is leaning up on his elbow next to me, and I instantly bury my face in his neck.
“How was it?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me close to him.
“I don’t know . . .” I lie.
“Don’t be shy, I know you liked it. So did I.” He kisses the top of my head, and I look up at him.
“I did, but I still like it better when you do it,” I admit and he smiles.
“Well, I would hope so,” he says, and I lift my head up to plant a kiss over the indent of his dimple. “There are a lot of things I can show you,” he adds, and when I flush again he reassures me, “One step at a time.”