Doc (Club Alias #7) - K.D. Robichaux Page 0,68

like or don’t like it. There is no subtle turn toward or away from their touch to give them a nonverbal hint. It’s only you, and you have the power to make yourself feel so fucking good.”

I’ve said all of this before, a countless number of times with my patients. It’s always in my office, teaching women to masturbate and counseling men on how to either teach their own partners how to touch themselves or to do it for them. It’s always very clinical, my doctor mask on, my voice even while giving my instructions, using only the medical terms for genitalia.

But nothing will ever compare to giving the same lesson I’ve taught a thousand times to the goddess before me. Talking her through how to stroke her flesh, feeling the instinctual movement of her hips as she truly begins to enjoy herself, watching the play of emotions over her face as she discovers things she really likes, her eyes closed gently now instead of pinched, and I can see the movement of her eyes beneath her lids as she watches whatever reel she’s playing in her mind to amplify her pleasure.

When her face turns toward me, her eyes still closed and her hips beginning to rock every time her fingertips trail down to circle her belly button then up around her nipple, and then back down once again, I move even closer so she can breathe me in. She turns her head even farther, burying her face against my left shoulder that rests on the bed, which puts her left ear right by my lips.

“And when you’re ready, goddess, you can slowly reach down between your legs to test and see how wet you’ve made yourself by awakening the rest of your body. Part your thighs, give your hand room to slip your finger down your center, over your clit, and dip just your fingertip inside,” I murmur, and then I dip my chin to watch her hand slide past her belly button and over her mound. A moment later, she gasps against my shoulder, and her ass presses into the mattress. “What do you feel?” I ask, my voice rougher than it was just seconds before.

“I’m soaked,” she admits on a whimper, and I have to fist the sheet in my right hand not to see for myself.

“So good, baby. That’s so good.” She nods against me, snuggling her head closer to hide her face. But she continues to do what I instruct, so I’ll allow her to do so. “Now just like you did to the rest of your body, I want you to explore your pussy. Not just your clit, not just your hole, but everything. Feel the different textures of skin. Feel the plumpness of your outer lips. Tease yourself. Drive yourself into a state of need by denying direct contact with your clit.”

She follows my demands like a good little sub, and I have to remind myself she’s my student right now, my woman who’s learning a valuable life skill from me, not my submissive to carry out my biddings.

Her knees can’t stay still as she involuntarily relaxes then tightens her thighs around her hand, discovering the feelings she likes as before. Her hips grind sexily against our bed, and as she entices herself, coaxing her fingers closer to her hole or to give in and stroke her clit, she’s seducing me as well, and I reach down beneath the sheet to grasp my aching cock.

Moments later, she’s panting for breath, and my heart thunders in my chest as she begs me, “Please, can I give in now?”

And against her ear, I whisper, “That’s the glory of self-pleasure, goddess. You give in when you want. Make yourself feel good, baby.”

It’s all the permission she needs, and I can’t stand it any longer. I take hold of the top of the sheet and I whip it off her body, but with her face still buried against my shoulder, or maybe it’s because she’s worked herself up so much, she doesn’t care, and she finally, finally slides her fingertip over her clit.

A long, low moan escapes her, a sound that probably never left her pillowy lips whenever she used her vibrator. The sound is languid and relaxed, nothing like the held breath of concentration or the pants of frustration.

“Tell me what to do, Viking,” she prompts, and I nearly come inside my pajama pants.

My nostrils flare as I grit my teeth, trying to keep a rein

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