Page 58 of The Lies Between Lovers

“I promise,” she whispered.

At that point, with a third finger added to the mix that gave her a bite of sting on the first thrust in, whispering was the very best that she could do.

“How young were you when you realized how easy it was for you to orgasm?”

“W-what?”

“How young?”

God.

Her cheeks burned red as her mind ran wild, and his fingers kept massaging her deeper.

“Thirteen.”

He whistled low. “That is young.”

“Masturbation.”

“Mmm,” he hummed low when she felt that familiar pressure building low in her pelvis and her knees started to shake. “All in healthy exploration, then. Can’t fault you for figuring it out and liking it, can we? And when you learned you could squirt?”

“Seventeen.”

“Did it shock you?”

“Humiliated me the first time, actually,” she admitted, thinking back to the way her partner had been horrified at the time. It was made worse by the fact she didn’t really understand what her body was doing or why. Just because it was a normal thing for many women didn’t mean it was something every woman was educated about.

Vaslav clicked disapprovingly at the news, his gaze drifting up to the mirror to make sure she was still watching him. “What was it you said about us? We were barely ... something.”

His question came with the faster rhythm of his hands working her into a trembling frenzy. He made it almost impossible to speak, but she managed every word.

Somehow.

“Lovers—I said we were barely lovers once.”

“Right,” he returned. “Lovers.”

“Lyubovnik.”

“Lover. You want a lover.”

Well, she would take that—if she couldn’t have it all from him, anyway.

“I can be that,” Vaslav told her as the tendrils of the most intense orgasm began to spear through her womb. He had to feel the way her inner walls contracted around him, determined to milk his fingers the way it would for his cock. As she vibrated and moaned her way through the bliss that left her dripping a tiny puddle on the bathroom floor once he’d pulled his hand from between her thighs, he said, “I can be a lot of things, and that too, for you.”

If you’ll let me.

She swore she could feel those unspoken words.

“Moy lyubovnik—my lover?”

“As long as you’re also mine,” he returned.

Then he cracked her twice in quick succession, just fast enough to sting so good, open-palmed against her slit with his fingers snapping over her clit. Each one earned him a high, breathy whine before it melted into a moan when he kneaded each of her pert cheeks. Only after her trembling subsided did he reach for the condom packet on the counter.

Vaslav tore it open and had the flimsy rubber precarious dangling between two fingers when he nodded at her in the mirror. He hadn’t even taken the towel off yet. “Let me hear you say it. Tell me what you want.”

She had no more reason to play coy.