A Bird in the Oven - Kata Cuic Page 0,40
“I had very explicit intentions to make you mine, but I have not been so adept at following through. I will prove to you that I can be worthy of your faithfulness and your body. Please, let me try again. It would make me very happy to please you without receiving anything in return. It makes me unhappy to remember you have already done the same for me, but I have not yet had the opportunity to lavish you with attention.”
“Wait.” I hiccup from the force of inhaling precious air too quickly. “What?”
He glances up at me, notices my tear-streaked cheeks, then frowns deeply. “I am still being unclear. What did you not understand?”
“All of it,” I blurt, dizziness overtaking me at the idea he’s still trying to even the orgasm score. I struggle to sit upright.
He flattens his palm against my chest to make me lie back again and shakes his head. “It is no secret that words are not my strongest skill set.”
“That’s not true,” I argue. I’m certain some of the words he just uttered to me were very explicit. It’s not his fault I don’t like hearing them.
“You are being very interruptive today,” he admonishes. “We must learn better communication skills, but for now, please allow my actions to speak louder than my words. Will you do that? Will you let me touch you?”
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest, effectively trapping his hand against my thrashing heart. “I’m sore. You’re sore. Without your super sperm in play, we aren’t making a baby. We aren’t even practicing.”
He pulls his hand free then wraps it around my neck, hauling me upright to his waiting mouth. He kisses me slowly, leisurely, exploring my mouth with his tongue in the same way his hands explored my body.
I pant against his lips when he releases me. “Ollie,” I whimper. “You don’t even like kissing.”
He pulls back, his eyes darting between mine. “I like you. I want to please you. Why are you so adamant that I be selfish where you are concerned? Love is selfless, Liv. Am I not allowed to love you? Is it your expectation that I impregnate you but feel nothing?”
My hiccups return with a vengeance. Ollie rubs my back.
“You want to love me?”
He cups my cheek with his hand. “I do love you.”
“You love me,” I repeat, dumbfounded.
“I love you.” His eyes crinkle. “There is no possible way I am saying it wrong. I understand very well what love is.”
I blink. Blink some more. He isn’t saying anything wrong, but his actions for much of the duration of our friendship don’t line up with my meaning of the words he’s speaking. How different can definitions of love possibly be? “You love me.”
Ollie stares at my lips, clear worry blossoming on his face. “I have never questioned your comprehension skills in the past, but I have serious doubts currently. You are clearly having a much more difficult morning than I am.” He kisses my nose then lowers me back until my head rests against the edge of the tub again. “No more words, I think. It is time for me to show you the way I feel—the full extent of what I want to give you—so there is no room for error.”
His fingertip circles my clit in the slowest, most torturous motion with barely any pressure at all.
Oh. Okay, cool. That’s where our wires are getting crossed. This is still about sex. He loves me because he’s currently engaging in sex acts with me. That actually makes me feel slightly better about all the women he’s been with. He must have loved each of them for a time. Then I get sad again because he also must have believed their ability to orgasm with him meant they loved him, too. It was already unfair that none of his relationships lasted longer than a month. It’s no wonder he was so heartbroken when they inevitably left him. He was attached to them more than I realized.
I’m so sore. There’s very little chance he’ll wring an orgasm out of me, but I relax and close my eyes. If this is the only way I can show him I love him, then I’ll try.
Because he’s right—words aren’t doing us any good today.
He never tries to enter me with his fingers, never presses too hard. His movements are slow and precise, wide circles that gain in speed but not pressure as he brings his fingertip closer and closer.
Damn him. He’s