Page 58 of Wrecked By You
“This is how I do it.”
I’d made a mistake. I shouldn’t have brought her here. My stomach lurched. I usually had these conversations long before I pushed my fingers inside a woman, bringing her to a rapid climax. I made a point of being clear about my proclivities. With Ella, though, I’d gotten caught up in the moment.
Fuck.
“Why?”
My erection deflated. I stood up. Backed away. Shoved my dick in my pants and zipped up. “Forget it. I’ll take you home.”
Standing, jeans and panties still around her ankles, she made no attempt to dress herself as she turned to face me.
“Johannes.” She reached out a hand. “Come here.”
I stared at her hand for so long that she let it fall to her side. God. I was a bastard. Hurt and confusion streamed across her face, and still I stood there, mute.
“You only have sex from behind?”
“Yes.”
She ran her gaze over me. “And clothed.”
“Yes.”
She nodded as if she understood. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t possibly understand. How could she when I’d withheld all the pertinent facts? Reasons that would explain my reticence to expose myself, emotionally more than physically. The problem was, in my head, they were so tied together that they were basically the same thing.
“Is there a mirror around here?”
I frowned. “In the master bath. Why?”
“Where is that?”
I pointed to a door to the left of the bank of windows. “That’s the master bedroom. It’s through there.”
She kicked off her jeans and panties, unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it down her arms, and unfastened her bra, where it, too, joined the heap of her clothes. My deflated dick sprang to life so fast, I felt dizzy.
“Jesus,” I hissed, letting my eyes travel over her nakedness. The tips of my fingers tingled, the urge to touch her, to trace her body with my hands and my tongue and my mouth causing a carnal urge so powerful that I almost came without her laying a hand on me.
“I want you.” She looked me straight in the eye, unwavering, brave, hot as hell. “And I know you want me. If having sex from behind is what makes you comfortable, then that’s what we’ll do. But I want to see you.” She hitched a shoulder. “If that has to be in a mirror rather than face-to-face, then so be it.”
“Ella,” I breathed. “Fuck.”
Her attention slipped to my groin, to where the outline of my dick was visible through my pants. She took my hand and led me over to the bedroom. I ceded control to her, the experience unusual yet oddly erotic. Her eyes went to the bed, but only for a moment. Bypassing the comfortable mattress and luxurious silk sheets, she entered the bathroom and planted both hands on either side of the sink. Her eyes met mine in the mirror, a comforting smile gracing her lips.
“Is this okay?”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath through my nose. Strange thoughts crowded my mind, ones I’d never had with any other sexual partner since Sadie. I wished I could strip off my clothes, lay her down on the enormous bed, and explore every inch of her while she did the same to me. Pipe dreams, stupid fantasies that my emotionally stunted brain would never allow. I hated the scar across my neck, not only for its physical abhorrence, but also for what it demonstrated.
Weakness.
Stupidity.
Naivety.
Every time I looked at the raised, ugly skin, it triggered me, taking me back to that night. The pain from being repeatedly punched and kicked, the sickly smell of fear filling my nostrils. Realizing the woman I was in love with had orchestrated the entire assault. The searing agony as the blade sliced through my flesh. The warm rush of blood spurting from my neck as I lay on the floor knowing I was about to die.
I snapped my eyes open, fixating on Ella standing with her hands braced on the bathroom counter, waiting for me to fuck her.
Willing to let me fuck her the way I needed to. The only way I knew how to.