Test Scenario 3: Stephen. I already told you about that.
My conclusions? When I was myself, I tended to disappoint people. When I pretended, I disappointed myself.
Then there was my sexual history. I’d been all set to throw my sixteen year old self at Jake, and he’d taken a pass. The college guy I’d given my V-card thought my name was Harriet. And again, my unfortunate experience with Stephen.
Granted, Ethan and I seemed pretty compatible. I felt connected to him by these bizarre invisible strings, and I hadn’t felt like that about anyone else, ever. There was rarely a point in my day when I didn’t feel the tug of those strings pulling me toward him. Ethan was like this force of nature, swirling around me. I knew -—had known for a while even though I’d tried to deny it -—that I’d been losing myself to him little by little. Every smile, every kind word and deed, they had all chipped away at my resistance until there was nothing left but this fragile shell.
It was exhausting, fighting that all the time.
But if I wasn’t good enough for Jake, Brad, or Stephen, how could I possibly hope to be good enough for the man currently waving a diamond in front of my face? I was argumentative, opinionated, and sexually incompetent. Definitely not ideal wife material.
While he seemed to deal with my personality quirks fairly well, a man like Ethan would definitely take my other problem personally, and I didn’t want to disappoint him, too. People talked about men having performance issues, but no one ever said anything about women. In every romance book I’d ever read, the hero made the heroine climax repeatedly. I knew that was fiction, but I had to believe that the possibility of both partners climaxing was not complete fallacy.
Beyond BOB, I never had. It was a mental thing. I got that. When things got hot and heavy, I panicked, which only made it even harder to achieve orgasm. It was this vicious cycle that made me feel completely inadequate. The worst case scenario of performance anxiety.
It was better not to go there, because it would hurt a hell of a lot more later than now. Like it or not, Ethan was exactly what my dad needed, even more than I needed him, and I had to think about that, too.
So... yeah. My little problem was little when it only involved me. Bring in other people and it became much bigger.
“Hannah,” he said, nudging me. “What’s going on in that sexy head of yours? I just asked you to marry me. You admitted that you love me. What’s the problem? It’s not your dad, is it? Because I’d never ask you to leave him.”
My heart hurt. Literally. It was a deep, dull ache in the center of my chest. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t.
“This has something to do with what happened that night, doesn’t it?” he mused when I continued to do my impression of a mute. “Are you afraid that I can’t satisfy you, Hannah? Is that it?”
Crap! Crap, crap, crap! This wasn’t about him. This was about me. Me and my fucked-up female wiring and my trust issues. “It’s not your fault, Ethan. I just... can’t.” Suddenly afflicted with the worst case of word vomit I’d ever experienced, I blurted out the highlights of my disastrous history.
I didn’t actually come right out and say it, but I knew he understood when he went completely still. “I’m sorry. What exactly are you saying, Hannah?”
“I can’t have an orgasm,” I said, louder this time, my shameful words colored with the humiliation of having to repeat that. “I mean I can, just not from, you know, intercourse.” Oh God, that sounded so clinical.
I hung my head in shame. The waterfall sounded especially loud in the ensuing silence. I waited. For the laughter. For the snort. For the disgust.
“Hannah, are you seriously telling me that you won’t marry me because you think the only way you can get off is with a little DIY?”
I said nothing.
“Okay, first of all, if that’s all I cared about, I’d just want to fuck you, not marry you.”
It was me who snorted that time.
“And second...I mean, have you ever even seen a skin flick? One of the hottest things a woman can do is give herself pleasure. Christ, watching you get yourself off is one of my top five fantasies. It’s one of the things I think about when I jack-off. Which, by the way, has been happening a lot lately, thanks to you.”
I raised my head.
“But thirdly, I have to say I’m going to call bullshit. I think that if you haven’t come during sex, then you’ve just been having bad sex.”
“I didn’t come when we had sex,” I pointed out between sniffles. “And I thought that was pretty good.”
“You didn’t give me a chance, Hannah. Let me prove it to you.”
I shook my head, knowing what would happen. I’d panic, he’d get frustrated, and then I’d feel even worse. It was a vicious, self-defeating cycle that could not end well.
I know. You’re shaking your head, thinking this is absolutely ridiculous. That an intelligent, modern day woman would never fixate on such a thing, or that in the larger scheme of things, it was not important. But intimacy is an integral part of a long lasting relationship. How many marriages have been ruined because one (or both) of the partners felt the need to go elsewhere to find what they were missing at home? How many hearts cracked in the silence when one partner turned away from the other in the middle of the night, too tired, too weary, too done?
I’m not saying that you can’t have a good relationship without great sex. Of course you can. But I wanted it all. I wanted passion. I wanted satisfaction. For me, and for him. Especially for him.
This wasn’t just about my elusive climax. That was only a physical manifestation of the underlying issue. This was about giving myself completely over to another human being. Putting my fate in his hands. I couldn’t do that, afraid of what might happen when I failed us both.
“Hannah, trust me. I’ll tell you what. Give me a chance. If I don’t make you climax three times in the next hour, I will buy you the biggest, best assortment of vibrators, dongs, and rabbits available. The only stipulation is, you have to let me watch when you use them.”
“And if you do?” I asked, unable to completely stem my curiosity. Or the rampant lust rising up inside of me, right along with my swelling heart and melting bones.
He grinned. “I’ll still buy you any toy you want. Either way, though, you have to agree to marry me, or no deal.”
I thought about it. I could walk away now, leaving my heart here in this cave, and never know. Or I could take a chance with a man who seemed to actually like my bad attitude and smart mouth. Who knew what I looked like at two a.m. and wanted to marry me anyway. What were the chances I would ever find a man I loved more than Ethan? A man who was willing to risk his entire future by putting his money where his mouth was?
Did I mention I have a genius level IQ?
“Okay,” I said, holding out my ring finger so he could slip the diamond onto it. “You’re on.”
The change was instantaneous. One second he was grinning at me; the next, heat infused his beautiful blue eyes and made them glow.
“Come here, woman,” he said, his voice a deep growl. A shiver skittered up and down the length of my spine.
He wrapped his big hand around the back of my neck and jerked me to him, brushing his lips over mine. Once, twice, three times before he deepened the kiss, using the hold he had on me to tilt my head exactly the way he wanted. I felt his other hand slipping under my shirt, palming my belly.
“My baby’s going to grow right here,” he whispered into my mouth between kisses. “I’m going to plant my seed in you every fucking day and watch you grow round with our children.”
No one had ever spoken to me like that before. The words were so raw, his voice so compelling, I couldn’t help it. Beneath his hand my dusty womb clenched and my sex spasmed.
His lips moved away from mine, leaving them swollen and slightly bruised. He kissed and licked his way across my jaw, and down my neck, stopping occasionally to suck lightly on my skin or scrape it with his teeth.
His mouth sucked me through the satiny cups. My fingers tangled in his hair and pulled as I arched into him. I scraped his scalp with my nails and he bit down just hard enough to be on the right side of pain, sending bolts of heat down between my legs, curling my toes.
Holy shit.
Then my bra was gone too and his mouth was on me. Sucking. Biting. Licking. I grew hotter and wetter until I was literally writhing beneath his skilled mouth. I was so intent on the attention he was paying to my breasts that I didn’t even realize he’d been working off my jeans until he was pushing them down below my knees and I felt the shock of cold stone on my bare ass.
His hand slipped between my thighs and he groaned when he found me dripping wet. His long, calloused fingers stroked my folds before he circled my clit with his thumb.
“You’ve been such a naughty girl, Hannah. Lying to me like that.” He licked his fingers, his icy blue eyes lighting with white fire. “You’re already close. I can taste it.” Then he pulled his hand away and spanked my pussy lightly. Once. Twice. Three times.
I gasped at the light sting and the rush of heat it brought to the region, but he was already moving on, sliding one, then two long fingers into me. He scissored and rubbed, pushing in, pulling out, spreading my slick juices around while he continued making those amazing circular rubs with his thumb. I couldn’t think past it. The familiar panic tried to take hold, but my desire punched it right in the face and knocked it out cold.
This man was playing my body like a master. I wasn’t so much giving him control as my control was temporarily deserting me, jumping from my ship into the sea that was Ethan. I began to feel a familiar sensation, starting in my toes and creeping up my legs. I began to pump my hips into his hand, needing more.
Thankfully, he understood. His mouth closed around one nipple while his fingers penetrated deep and curled to some magical spot inside me that I’d all but given up hope of ever finding. He stroked a few times until my lower body started trembling uncontrollably. Then he thrust hard and fast while sucking deeply on my breast.
I screamed, bowing my back as I clamped down around his fingers. He continued pumping me through my climax, while switching to gentle licks around the now super-sensitive tip of my breast.
“That’s one,” he said smugly.
So he got lucky. It happens. I didn’t dare hope my problem could be solved that easily, no matter how good he was.
As I tried to catch my breath he moved farther down my body. Hands, lips, teeth and tongue blazed a trail of heat until he had wedged his broad shoulders between my legs and forced me wide open to his intense gaze.
“Fucking beautiful,” he breathed.
He lowered his head and nuzzled me. There was no warning this time, no build-up. His mouth worked me while his hands held me in place, exactly where he wanted me. I was still reeling from my orgasm, so every touch, every lick, every nip had a straight shot right into the bundle of nerves at my very core.
I hadn’t fully recovered when I felt the pressure starting to build again. Ethan massaged me with one hand while flicking my nipples with the other. His tongue drove deep inside me, mimicking the earlier movements he’d made with his fingers.
“So sweet,” he murmured. “Can’t get enough.”
He groaned when I wrapped my legs above his shoulders and lifted my hips, bucking, needing more.
He rubbed faster and flicked his tongue in and around my opening. I was close, so very close, but I just couldn’t. The panic opened its eyes and started to sit up while my desire’s attention was elsewhere. I wanted this, I wanted this so badly, and he was so good...
The hand that had been on my breasts was suddenly down there, spreading moisture farther back. Oh, fuck. He wasn’t really going to...
His finger applied pressure back there as another penetrated my sex and he sucked hard on that sensitive bundle. My panic went quiet with a shocked WTF and let him through the blockade. I screamed again and bucked wildly as a second orgasm, even more powerful than the first one, rumbled through me.
“That’s two,” he said.
“No more,” I panted, sure that I was one step away from having a heart attack or a stroke. No body could withstand that much pressure without doing some permanent damage. I’d willingly concede that he may have had a valid point, and maybe, with a lot of practice and effort, I could overcome my mental hurdles.
Ethan just chuckled, wholly unsympathetic. “A deal’s a deal, baby.”
And then he was pushing into me, filling me, stretching me to my limits. Long, slow strokes prolonged the aftershocks until I could take him fully.
“I’m going to come so deep inside you, baby,” he growled in my ear. “I’m going to brand you from the inside out. I’m going to come so hard, so much, that you’ll be dripping for hours.”
His raw, vulgar words had me rising again, all hot and needy. “Yes,” I moaned. “Yes, Ethan. Brand me. Take me.”
He cursed and rolled us both over so I was on top. “Ride me, baby.”
Out of my mind with lust, covered in sweat and shaking, I did for as long as I could, but I was spent. Ethan grabbed my hips and began to thrust upward with powerful strokes. In this position, I could feel him deep inside me even as each penetration stimulated my swollen, tingling flesh.
I braced my hands against his upper arms and tilted until he was hitting that magic spot again. “Yes, baby, yes,” he growled, pushing harder and faster, slamming into me so deep I could feel him hitting the entrance to my womb. My sheath began to ripple, and I swear, he grew even bigger inside me.
I opened my mouth in a silent scream -—my voice was gone by that point anyway -—as I clamped down and I felt the first hot jet scorch my insides. It was followed by another, and another as Ethan remained buried and made tiny movements with his hips, curling deeper into me.
“That’s three,” he said, sounding as exhausted as I felt (but very, very smug). “I win.”
That was the last thing I heard before I collapsed on top of him and passed out.
Ethan
When I woke up, I thought I was dreaming. Hannah was naked and curled on my chest, purring like a contented little kitten. If it wasn’t for the fact that my ass was on cold, damp rock, I might have believed I was.
Even with the aches and cramps in my back, I was reluctant to move. I grabbed Hannah’s left hand from where it pressed to my chest and brought it up close to my face, needing the assurance that my ring was there. That it was, in fact, real.
She’d said yes. I was getting married. To Hannah.
I held my breath and waited for the panic and uncertainty, to kick in like it had when I’d proposed to Cecilia, but it never came. A soul-deep peace settled over me instead, and I finally understood what it felt like to find The One. Understandably, I’d been a skeptic.
Hannah wasn’t perfect, but she was perfect for me. She was skittish and stubborn and tested the limits of my patience. But she was also kind, loyal, loving, compassionate, smart, funny, and sexy as hell. We would fight often, but the makeup sex would be epic.
I knew there would be times I would rile her up just to see the lightning in her eyes, to have her unleash the full power of all that ferocity on me. I also knew there were times when I would comfort her, soothe her, take her in my arms and hold her for as long as we both needed.
It wouldn’t be easy for her. I was possessive, domineering, and obdurate, but I would love and protect her to my dying breath. It sounds romantic when I put it like that, but it was more selfish than anything. I protect what’s mine, and Hannah belonged to me now. I hope she realized what she was getting into when she said yes. My instincts told m
e she did, and I will never, ever ignore my instincts again.
I knew I was a far cry from those guys in the novels she was so obsessed with, but I was willing to learn. Some of the techniques I used on her I’d lifted from a few select passages; I’d borrowed them from an assortment of promising looking paperbacks and made them my own. I wasn’t a complete plagiarist. I wondered vaguely if she’d recognized any of them.
One good thing about her fixation with romantic erotica: I’d have an unlimited source of ideas to draw from.
Hannah sighed softly and curled her nails into my skin, so much like the feral kitten I’d been comparing her to since the first time I saw her looking up at me with those big gray eyes. I put my hand on the back of her head and stroked her from tip to tail (head to ass). She moaned, as I suspected she would, and I laughed.
The vibrations pulled her from her -—dare I say it -—cat nap. She purred and stretched and opened her eyes. It took a moment for the fog to clear, but then her eyes widened in concern and she exclaimed, “Ethan! Your back!” She rolled to the side and took me with her, rubbing my lower back and, I’ll admit, fondling my ass a little in the process.
Is it any wonder I love this woman?
Chapter 13
Hannah
I struggled to pull the ripped edges of my T-shirt together, but it was a lost cause. When Ethan decided to do something, he did it right. My sated and thoroughly happy self attested to that.
Though I wouldn’t have believed it possible, Ethan did exactly what he said he was going to do. I didn’t like losing a bet, but in this case, I’d make an exception. He’d really risen to the challenge (pun intended) and put that considerable cocky confidence (pun intended) to excellent use. I decided right then and there to challenge his mysterious powers of orgasmic bliss often to ensure we had more sessions just like this.
Letting Go: A Contemporary Romance of Snark and Feels Page 13
