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“I’m not going to touch your cunt, but you can if you want to,” he whispered in her ear. She was naked, sitting on his bed. He had taken off his jacket and shoes and was sitting behind her, his legs spread to hold her, pulling her back onto his shoulder.
He bent his knees and placed his feet between her thighs and spread her legs. She started to cover herself with her hands and then stopped, she moved as if to rest them on his thighs and decided against that as well, eventually just wrapping her arms around her waist. He covered her arms with his and pulled her tight to him. She shifted.
“Tell me about your week,” he demanded. She adjusted her position again.
She choked back and laugh and shifted again.
“Are you uncomfortable?” he asked.
“Aside from being naked and being asked about my day, it’s fine,” she answered and shifted again.
He reached down and dug his fingers into her thigh, hard. Harder still. Hard enough to bruise. “Do not lie to me, Brienne,” he growled in her ear.
She caught her breath. “It’s your belt buckle. It’s digging into my back.”
He released her leg. “Lean forward, palms flat on the bed, arms straight. All the way. Press your breasts against the mattress if you can.”
She obeyed. She worked out. She was flexible. She heard the sound of him removing his belt.
He shifted behind her. Belt now off and tossed on the floor. He ran his index finger along her spine, noticing the tiny red marks spaced evenly. He unbuttoned his shirt and took that off as well, leaving on only a white cotton t-shirt. He rubbed at the marks he’d accidentally left on her skin. “Lean back into me again.”
She lifted her torso off the bed and settle back into his chest. He was warmed with less clothes between them. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin. She again wrapped her arms around her waist and his arms encircled hers.
“You have to tell me when something is hurting you, Brienne. I cannot read your mind.”
“Okay.”
“Good girl.”
At the praise, she caught her breath pressed back into him.
“I want to know how strong you are. Try to close your legs.”
She bent her knees for leverage and used the strength in her legs to push against his calves. She made some progress, perhaps two inches before he stopped her. They were evenly matched in strength but he was in the better position.
“All right. Stop and relax now.”
She obeyed.
“Good girl.”
Again the praise sent a jolt through her. She wanted him to touch her. She gripped his fingers.
He smiled into her neck and pulled his hands from hers. He reached up to cup her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her taut nipples. She caught her breath. “You were telling me about your week.”
His lips moved against her neck while his hands roamed her body, stroking her arms, her ribs, her breasts, across her stomach.
And she talked. She told him about her best friend sending her flowers once each week because she owned a chain of florist shops; she told him about her intern’s crush on the sandwich delivery boy. She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest as she told him about the meeting she’d had to have regarding using the letter “O” to refer to zero and it’s use in passwords. He stroked and soothed and aroused as she unburdened herself. He ran his lips across her skin and she could feel it when he smiled. He was warm and comfortable and comforting and she almost forgot that she was naked, why she was here, why he was holding her.
He slid his hand across her stomach. Her muscles tensed as he circled her navel with his knuckle. He speared his fingers through her thick, blonde pubic hair and gave a light tug. “Tell me about this.” He could feel the blush heat her skin.
She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on his forearms. “I just...I mean.” The rest of the words came out in a rush. “My best friend goes and gets waxed regularly and I tried it once and it hurt and Hyle says I’m just as beautiful as any other woman in the dark so it doesn’t matter so I just let it go. Is that a problem?”
His lips stopped moving across the nape of her neck. “He said what?” His arms tightened around her middle.
She leaned away from him, the prior comfort and ease lost. “Is it a problem? I mean, should I go get waxed or whatever?”
He raised a hand to place it between her breasts and pull her back to him, but her body was stiff and unyielding. “That wasn’t my question. Hyle. Said. What?”
She tried to relax back against him, but he was tense as well. “He said I’m as beautiful as any other woman in the dark.” She shrugged.
He spoke against her skin. “So this boyfriend of yours. He has a small, inadequate cock, he can’t make you come and he doesn’t make you feel beautiful. Why are you with him?”
She shrugged again. “It’s easy?”
“That’s no reason, Brienne. Do you love your work because it’s easy? Are you successful because it’s easy?”
She tried to relax. “No, but does everything in life have to be so hard?”
The tension left his body and she felt him chuckle. “No.” He ran his hand down her stomach again, stopping shy of where she wanted him to touch. “I wasn’t actually asking about your grooming habits, which should please you, I was asking about your cunt.”
She tried to turn to look at him, but he pressed his forehead into her spine. “I don’t understand.”
He tugged at her hair again. She looked down at his fingers, so close. “Did you come?” He asked.
She shook her head. “No. You told me not to.”
He pulled his hand back up and entwined his fingers with hers. “Good.” He went back to kissing her neck. “Did you want to?”
He felt the tremble in her voice. “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
At his words her breath caught and she tried to pull her legs closed, squeeze them together. He held her fast.
“No, Brienne. You stay open. Just like this.” He ran his hands along her inner thighs.
She nodded and relaxed her legs.
“I want you to touch yourself for me.”
She tensed. “I’m not very good at that.”
His lips went back to work on her neck. He ran his hands along her arms. “How can anyone else ever really learn how to please you if you can’t please yourself?”
“Okay.” She hitched her breath and leaned her head back into his shoulder. She let her hand travel south to feel the wetness between her legs.
“Good girl,” he murmured into her hair. “Such a good girl.”
She rubbed her finger across her nub as he said it, matching his actions from their prior session. His fingers came up to roll her nipples. She gasped.
He talked her through it, telling her when to go slower and faster, when to insert a finger, when to insert two. He brought her close and held her there just with his words. When he finally let her peak, she cried out his name and then it was his hands, his fingers inside her, pressing her shoulders into his chest, her cunt into his palm, calling out for him to make it stop, make it last.
When she could take no more, he shifted his legs to release her. She turned into him, resting her head on his chest. He took her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips. She fell asleep in his arms.
~--~
He sat in the dark, watching her sleep. He’d lifted himself off the bed earlier, being careful not to wake her. He’d covered her, but she’d kicked one long leg out in her sleep. He sat on the couch staring at her. Watching her dream. He never did this. It was a mistake. He knew the moment she woke.
She lifted her head from the pillow, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings, remembering what happened, remembering him. She finally saw his shadow, sitting on the couch, watching her. “I’m sorry,” she was quick to apologize, always quick to apologize. She pulled herself up, wrapping the blanket around her.
“I could have woken you at any time, Brienne.”
She nodded. “I’ll go now.” She made her way to the bathroom, to change and leave, her body aching with an unfamiliar soreness, her skin still tingling.
“Brienne.”
She stopped and turned to him, “Yes?”
“I’ll see you on Monday. No orgasms between now and then, understand.”
She nodded. “I won’t touch myself.”
She saw the glint off his teeth as he smiled. “No, Brienne. You’re to touch yourself. At least three times each day. You’re just not allowed to come.”