Page 25 of Good Girl Gone Badd

I touched myself watching it. Made myself come, again and again, watching it.

I’d never, ever,evercome so hard or for so long touching myself, though, like I did when Baxter touched me. Not even close. The orgasms I gave myself were like paltry little sparks in comparison to the fireworks, the exploding-star supernova detonations he made me feel.

I’d watched a video, recently—the morning I left Yale for vacation, actually, mere hours before getting on the plane—in which a sultry blonde with massive fake tits had slowly, erotically and skillfully fondled a man to orgasm. The man hadn’t been shown at all, except for his abs and his manhood, and the woman had frequently stared erotically and with great intensity into the camera, inviting the viewer to pretend it was him she was touching. I’d tried to pretend it was me touching him, and I’d come swiftly and hard. I’d never done that, had no reference for the fantasy, but it had been potent nonetheless.

Now, I was presented with an opportunity to live out that fantasy. With a man who, I was very certain, featured an even more incredibly impressive member than the man in the video had possessed.

Which…had been rather bogglingly enormous. Veined. Bulging at the head. Shiny. Smooth, yet hard looking, and also soft. Straining upward and away from his body.

I thought of Baxter, last night. Even taller, even thicker. Straight up, standing flat against his belly. The man in the video hadn’t been circumcised, and Baxter, I was fairly certain, was. Not that it mattered. I could almost see myself wrapping a hand around him. What would it feel like? To touch him, to watch him have an orgasm I’d given him. The videos were obviously staged, the people in them actors. What would a real person, not acting, do?

I wanted to know.

When would I ever get this chance again? Never, probably. I’d never be in a position where I felt…safe enough, I supposed, free enough from the normal constraints of my life, even at Yale…to indulge in living out my many, many fantasies.

Baxter was watching me. He knew I was thinking hard.

“I want to do it,” I said.

He frowned. “Do what?”

I swallowed, my throat dry, full and thick and burning with my throbbing heartbeat. “What…what you said.”

His brows furrowed. “Gonna have to be a little more specific, honey.”

I rubbed my palms on my thighs. Swallowed again. Breathed past my nerves. “Um. Touch you. Like you said.”

“Like I said, huh?”

I nodded. Gathered up all the courage I had. “Make you—um…” I let out a breath and tried again, forcing the words out in a rush. “I-want-to-make-you-come.”

He rocked back on his heels. “Evangeline, babe, I was just—”

“Pushing me, a little, to see what I’d do,” I interrupted. “I know.”

“I’m not sure you’re ready for that, Eva.”

I blinked, surprised, and then found anger boiling through me. “Donotpresume to tell me what I’m ready for, Baxter. I can decide that for myself.”

He held up his hands, palms out. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just didn’t mean for you to—”

“Actually want something for myself?” I demanded. “You wanted me to just do things your way, on your time frame?”

He let out a breath. “You know what? You’re right. That is sort of what I was assuming, I guess.” He let his hands fall to his sides. “I don’t mean to think I can control you, or make you do things my way. This is about you. I want you to…” He shrugged. “Choose what you want for yourself. That’s the whole point of this.”

Mollified by the sincerity in his voice and in his expression, I pinched the fabric of his bright red polo and tugged him closer. “Then…take this off.” I tugged on the shirt again.

He grabbed the polo by the back of the collar with one hand and hauled it off, tossed it onto the floor. “Okay.”

“Now, just…” I felt my resolve wobbling, “don’t laugh at me, and don’t try to take control, okay?”

He frowned down at me. “Why would I laugh?”

I swallowed hard yet again. “I— because I’ve never…” I shrugged. “Done this. Any of this.”

“You said you weren’t a virgin.”

“I’m not!” I shook my head and waved both hands in front of me. “Now shut up, you’re distracting me. Iwantto do this, because it’s…” I couldn’t quite admit it out loud.