Flirting with Disaster (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 2)
He managed to mutter something about coming, a warning, but she didn’t stop. Thank God she didn’t stop, because he wanted to come like this, engulfed by her. He wanted her to want it. And she did.
The orgasm slammed through him, the release so great he groaned in relief as he pulsed into her mouth over and over again. She slowed. Her touch gentled. His arms shook from the tight hold he had on the counter, and he was damn relieved that his knees didn’t buckle.
Isabelle sat back on her legs and looked up at him.
“You’re fucking amazing,” he rasped. She sat there, naked and wet-mouthed, and she laughed up at him, and Tom fell a little further into her.
* * *
HE COULDN’T STAY. He knew he couldn’t. But they still collapsed onto the couch together. He’d fastened his pants, and Isabelle had pulled on her sweater to keep the chill off, and now they were cuddled close in the darkness of her living room.
Her ex-lover hovered over them. At least the man was turned away.
Tom smoothed a hand over her hair and tried one last time to get her to talk. “I’m glad you didn’t stay with that guy who made you feel bad about sex.”
“Me, too. We were engaged, but I can’t imagine things would’ve worked out in the long run. In two years with him, he never made me come.”
That shocked the hell out of him. “And you still wanted to marry him?”
“I was young and stupid. And I didn’t know my worth.”
“Clearly. Because you’re worth a lot.”
He felt her cheek tighten against his shoulder when she smiled. “Must’ve been a good blow job.”
“It was, but it’s not even about that. You just seem really...comfortable. With sex. With yourself. It’s attractive.”
“Yeah?” She went quiet for a long moment, and he was afraid he’d insulted her just when she was beginning to open up. But she finally spoke. “It’s really hard for a woman to like sex.”
“Because guys are terrible at it?”
“No,” she laughed. “Even aside from that. We’re taught from day one that we’re supposed to resist it. That we’ll eventually be talked into it. That we don’t want it as much, and we definitely don’t need it. Not like boys do. I believed that. So much so that I wasn’t the least concerned that I’d never had an orgasm. Because lots of women don’t.”
He nodded.
“Can you imagine that? I mean really. Think about that. What if you had sex your whole life and never came?”
Tom frowned. “That’s awful.”
“It is awful!” she shouted, laughing again. “And that was almost my life! But then when I figured out how much I liked sex and exactly how I liked it... Jesus, that’s even more confusing. To be a woman and like sex. To want things just as much as the man does and still be treated as if you’ve given in and given something away. It’s no wonder women hit their sexual peak later in life. It takes decades to find the confidence to have good sex.”
Tom was frowning harder now. “How so?”
She shook her head. “Some men can make it hard to feel good about it afterward, no matter how much you liked it. Men say things like ‘I got some’ or ‘She put out,’ or whatever that dialogue is. Girls are stupid cows giving the milk away for free. And suddenly you feel like you were conquered.”
“Oh.” Tom had never heard anything like that before.
“It takes a lot of self-possession to know that a man’s attitude doesn’t change what you wanted. It doesn’t change what you got out of it.”
He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. Hadn’t he had those thoughts when he was younger? That sex was a game, and he was the winner if he could get some?
And just tonight, he’d been wanting her to give in. He’d wanted to take. The difference being that she’d taken, too.
“How did it end with him?” he asked, thinking he knew but wanting her to say it.
She didn’t, of course, but she didn’t go rigid in his arms, either. “We broke up over something else. A few weeks later, I got drunk and slept with a stranger. And it was great.”
Tom smiled at her laughter. “And a new you was born?”