Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Margot

Jigsaw might not be afraid of anything, but I am. I really like him. His kisses. His voice. His body. The gentle way he petted Gretel, even though she'd rudely interrupted us.

But telling him my ex had compared me to a corpse —cold, immobile, and boring—in bed was something I can't bring myself to share with him. What if we're in the middle of an intimate moment and he's thinking, "Damn, that guy was right, she sucks at this?" He wouldn't be able to hide his disgust, and I'd die of shame.

Thankfully, he dropped it for now. To further move him away from that topic, I return to our kissing lesson. "Maybe you can give me a report card to let me know how I'm performing," I suggest, like it's the best idea ever and totally normal.

He stares at me with the strangest expression. "You want me to grade you? At sex?"

"Well, guide me, maybe? ‘Improvement needed,' ‘satisfactory,' that kind of thing."

"Margot, you don't have to keep reminding me I'm only here for one purpose. I got it."

Oh my God. Is that what he thinks? Why does he seem so hurt?

"That's not what I meant." I drop my gaze. "I'm sorry."

He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. "It's fine."

The relentless pounding of my heart won't stop. We've barely started and I'm already messing this up.

"Tell me what to do?" I ask.

He settles back against the cushions again. "Come here." He pats his thigh.

Eager, but a little on edge now, I scoot closer to him. "How do you want me?"

A flash of animalistic desire lights up his eyes. "Every single way I can have you."

Ohhh. That might be more than I can handle. My entire body flushes and tingles with wild desire for the unknown.

"But for now, turn around and put your back against me."

That doesn't seem like we'll get a lot of kissing done but I'm eager to try anything with him.

He guides me with his hands on my hips and even arranges my body where he wants it over his lap. My butt resting on his thigh, his arm around my waist, and if I tip my head back, I can kiss along his jaw. He grips my chin, angling my head. A long, contented breath flows out of me. He seals his mouth over mine, and gently slides his tongue inside. I moan into the kiss as jolts of electricity shoot straight between my legs. The hand at my waist slips under my shirt, tickling my stomach. His thumb grazes the edge of my bra. Higher and he cups my breast, lazily circling my nipple with one finger.

The desperate pulsing between my legs increases and I whimper from needing something I can't name. He breaks our kiss and stares down at me with approval in his eyes.

"That feels so good," I whisper.

"What?"

"Everything you're doing. The way you're holding me."

He releases a groaning sound of approval and nuzzles against my neck, sucking at a sensitive spot I didn't know I have. "I like the way you fit against my body." His hand squeezes my hip.

"You make me feel secure." Both body and mind.

"Good." He tugs the cup of my bra down and my body jerks when his fingers brush against my hardened nipple. Underneath me, his body shakes with restraint.

His other hand moves lower, sliding under the waistband of my sweatpants. My breath catches in my lungs as he slides his fingers over my sheer panties.

I gasp and jerk my hips up.

"Like that?" he whispers against my ear.

I exhale a shaky breath and nod.

"Say it." He strokes over the damp material right along the seam of my lips and groans. "Your panties are soaking wet."

"Sorry."

His movements stop. "What do you mean sorry ?"

I try to shrug but he has me held so tight, my shoulders have nowhere to go.

He kisses my cheek. "It's a good thing." His voice drops to a low, sensual rasp as his fingers slide over my lips and up to my clit. "Your body likes what we're doing."

It's almost a question.

"I do. A lot," I whisper. Especially the way he says, "What we're doing" instead of "What I'm doing to you." Somehow that makes a big difference.

"Good." Another kiss on my cheek. I could drown in his kisses alone.

"Tell me what you like better." He rubs up and down over my clit, circles it, then settles two fingers on either side.

I take a gulp of air and wiggle my hips, spreading my legs wider.

"You like that?" he asks.

"Yes, please do it again."

"With pleasure." He takes his time sliding and rubbing, never pressing for more or even trying to move my underwear out of his way.

My breath stutters. "That feels really, really good," I whimper.

I'm so close to something . My body straining but not quite reaching what it needs. A whine of frustration slips out of me.

"There's no hurry. I've got you." He presses more kisses to my neck and cheek. "Relax and close your eyes. Just let your body feel. Stop thinking so much."

I never stop thinking.

But for him, I want to try.

Why can't I stop wondering how I measure up to every other woman he's ever held?

"You're so pretty stretched out like this for me," he whispers in my ear. His strokes increase in pressure. "I could touch you here all night. Just like this."

I rest my head against his shoulder. Endless moans and high whimpers scrape against my throat.

"Love those sexy little sounds you're making."

The whole point of this was to teach me how to please a man. How can he be so focused on my pleasure?

My hips buck against his hand. I try to hold still but he breathes out, "Fuck yes" like he's in awe of my body's every movement. "Do that again. Again. Keep going."

"Oh!" Little stars burst behind my eyelids and a loud buzzing in my ears drowns out everything. After a few heartbeats, I blink my eyes open and find him staring at me. I curl my hand against his cheek, pulling him closer. Our lips meet. "Thank you," I whisper. "That was really nice."

"Nice?" He lifts two teasing eyebrows.

Did I just insult him again?

He dips his finger under my panties. I hiss as he touches me with nothing between us, except all my hair down there.

"I didn't…Guys usually prefer no hair, right? I wasn't sure…it's usually a little tidier." My entire body floods with heat. Why did I let time get away from me today and forget to shave?

"Stop." He spreads his hand, cupping me, and lets out a long, satisfied groan that vibrates against my ear. "You feel perfect." He inhales a sharp breath. "I love that you're so fucking wet," he hisses as he glides one finger between my lips, heading lower.

Fear grabs me and jerks my body to a stop.

His fingers stop exploring but stay where they are. "Why are you tensing up?" he asks, his breath warm against my cheek. "Hmm? Tell me."

"I don't really like that ."

"Don't like what ? Be specific."

The hand under my panties remains still. Like a car with the emergency brake pulled up, not going anywhere. But the hand anchoring me to his body shifts under my shirt and cups one breast, lightly teasing my nipple.

"What don't you like?" he asks again.

God, this is mortifying. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut.

I did ask him to help me, though. "I don't like, you know, fingers rammed inside me." I jab my finger in the air like I'm stabbing at an elevator button.

His body jerks, like maybe he's trying to swallow laughter. "Did someone do that to you?" he asks in a tight voice.

He's not laughing. He's angry.

I pull a shoulder forward in a half shrug.

He rests his forehead against my temple. "Were you wet like this?" He slides his fingers against me, then trails them along my inner thigh.

No, never. "I don't think so."

"I won't put anything inside you unless you ask me to," he promises with an aching sincerity that I actually believe.

A little overwhelmed, I turn my head and kiss him. That teasing tongue of his sweeps against mine at the same time his fingers begin rubbing directly against my skin, no material between us this time.

Breathing hard, I pull away. "When will you teach me how to make you feel good?"

His lips, reddened from all our kissing, curve. "I'm having fun with you right now." His eyebrows draw down into a teasing imitation of a sad face. "You don't want to deny me my fun, do you?"

I open my mouth to answer but his finger slides directly against my clit. My entire body jerks. Gibberish comes out of my mouth instead of words.

If he wasn't doing such wickedly wonderful things to my body, I'd say the laugh he lets out is pure evil.

He continues the sensual dance of his fingers.

My skin's on fire. Heat and pressure consume me. Another wave builds and bliss quickly crashes over me. My hips roll and I inch my legs farther apart.

He glides his fingers between my lips again, resting the heel of his palm against me. This time, I want him inside me, but I can't form the words. I slide my hand down, under my sweatpants, resting it over his.

He growls against my throat. "What do you want?"

"Make me come again, please?"

"How?"

"With your fingers." I press down on his knuckles.

We share a breath as he slowly pushes a finger inside me. I tilt my head back and our eyes lock. My breath catches as he slides deeper, then withdraws. The heel of his palm grinds against my clit as he continues the steady in and out rhythm. He slowly works in a second finger, the gentle stretching sensation unlike anything I've tried before.

I dig my feet into the chair cushion and lift my hips, pushing into the penetration.

"Yes," he murmurs. "Good girl. Fuck my fingers. Show me what you like."

I shudder with pleasure from the filthy words and the intensity in his voice.

He continues with deep, slow thrusts. The needy ache expands. My breath catches and I curl my body forward as he hits the perfect spot.

"Right there. That's so good," I chant. Sounds I've never made before tear out of my throat.

If tonight is only lesson one, I don't know how I'm going to survive the rest.