What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [109]
She lowered her gaze briefly, ready to make a confession of her own. It was obvious, but she felt the need to tell him. “I never could have done it without the freedom you’ve brought me. And . . . maybe I’m beginning to understand that those, um, occurrences in my youth did color my opinions of sex. So . . . thank you. For pushing me to do these things.”
Beside her, he used his elbow to raise slightly, as well, giving his head an inquisitive tilt. “So tell me, did you really not like being with girls?”
She shrugged, amused with the question. Guys were always so obsessed with that. “I kind of liked it. But I told you—I like it more when you’re there.” Then she smiled, teasing him. “Why do guys always think girls secretly want other girls? After all, have you ever been with other guys?”
“Yeah,” he said easily—and her jaw dropped.
“Oh.” His answer left her utterly stunned—and then, for some reason, it kind of aroused her. “Do you . . . like it?”
He lowered his head back to the pillow. “Sometimes. Does that turn you off?”
“No. I mean, I never thought about it, but . . . to tell you the truth, I don’t know why, but it’s kind of getting me hot right now.”
He grinned up at her. “Good.” Yet then his expression changed. “Though maybe it would have been better if it turned you off.”
“Why? Isn’t all this about me becoming more and more open about sex?”
“Yeah, but . . . it would be best if it stopped having to do with . . . me.”
Oh, hell. They both knew the situation, but hearing him say it made her feel like some “guide groupie.” So she simply chose not to reply. Instead she lowered her head to the pillow, too, bringing them face-to-face. “Tell me,” she said softly. “About being with other guys.”
The request hung in the air for a moment before he said, “What about it? I’ve been here for fifteen years—there’s not much I haven’t done, sunshine.”
Another harsh reminder, but since she was thinking of him with other guys instead of other girls right now, it didn’t sting so much as simply remind her that she was practically still a virgin compared to Brent Powers. “Tell me . . . what you like. With another guy,” she asked, cautiously. Because yes, she was weirdly turned on by the idea, but she wasn’t sure how much, or what she wanted to hear, or if his answers would transform her arousal to something else.
When he hesitated, she realized maybe she wasn’t the only one uneasy with the topic—maybe he was embarrassed to talk about it with her, afraid of her reaction. It was the first time she’d ever seen Brent uncomfortable with any aspect of sex—he was usually so confident and smooth. But maybe it was because of the weird divergence in current society—straight girls playing at bisexuality had somehow become socially acceptable, but straight guys experimenting with other guys? Not as much.
Finally, he replied, speaking more softly than normal. “Sometimes . . . I like that it’s harder than sex with a girl—I mean, I like feeling a harder body against me.”
His answer made her heart pound. Possibly because it meant he truly understood—through experience—something a woman liked about sex? Or perhaps just because it clearly wasn’t easy for him to say and yet he was telling her anyway.
“What else?” she asked, fascinated. “What else do you like about it?”
He met her gaze squarely, as if about to confide in her. “Honestly, sunshine,” he said on a slightly awkward laugh, “if I’m in the right mood, everything.”
Everything. Wow. Did he really mean that? “Sucking another guy’s cock?”
He nodded simply.
“Having yours sucked by another guy?”
Another nod.
Her chest tightened at the images forming in her mind. “Do you . . . you know, fuck them?”
“Yeah, honey, I do.” He looked a little less embarrassed now, like he was coming back to himself, to his normal confidence. In fact, he sounded much more amused than worried when he asked, “So, are you . . . not liking me yet?”
She shook her head. “I’m actually . . . amazed by you. This means you’re not all talk.”
He cast a typical Brent grin. “Nope, afraid