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Honest Question

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Mikael had been in the middle of taking a bite when he froze, mouth partly closed on his chewed bagel. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked in a muffled voice.

“Oral.” Lisbeth was looking at her laptop screen and tapping at the keyboard. “Would you perform it on me?”

“I…” He blinked and looked at the bagel as if it had somehow caused this, then back at her. “Lisbeth—”

“If you don’t want to, it’s not a requirement,” she told him. “But it would be disappointing if you didn’t.”

“I can do it, that was just abrupt,” he said. “I mean, did you intend for that to be an offer that begins… now? To be filled now?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “We could do it now.”

“What got you thinking about this?” he asked, then gestured with the bagel toward her computer. “What are you looking at exactly?”

He looked at him with that “please” expression she’d mastered. “You’re too reluctant. Forget it.”

“I’m not,” he laughed. “I’m just…” He felt as if he’d been challenged then, and he put his food aside and stood. “Okay, come on.” He waved at her, toward the bedroom. “Let’s do it then.”

She stayed at the computer a moment longer, then shut her laptop and rose, peeling her shirt off as she walked toward the bedroom. He watched her go, still mesmerized by her utter comfort with springing things like “would you go down on me?” on him, seemingly from nowhere. It was times like these that he thought she might know more about him than even that report let on, that she thought of him in ways he couldn’t really comprehend, because she was incomprehensible. But somehow he didn’t want to solve her, like she was a puzzle. He just wanted to linger inside it and be mystified.

He followed her and found her atop the bed, entirely naked and waiting as he stripped of his sweater and undershirt. He climbed onto the bed and between her legs, Lisbeth running a hand through his hair, then gripping a handful lightly. He kissed up her thighs, leaving burning trails with his tongue. His hands on her scant flesh gripped and released, going to her petite backside and propping her up for his mouth.

She lay against the pillows and watched him, letting out a little gasp when his tongue ran along her cleft, tender and stimulating all at once. That seemed to her the best way to define everything he’d been to her, kind and exciting in a way a guy like him shouldn’t be. He was supposed to be boring, not engaging, not the sort to draw her in. He wasn’t supposed to make her think of what this would feel like until she bluntly asked if he would just do this, just kiss her there, not wanting to admit she wanted it. And the fact that he’d stood there like a buffoon, with his mouth half full of breakfast, just made her appreciate him more, made her confused insides twist, her mind recording that look and cherishing it. She hated that. And she loved it.

He took the plunge, holding her fast against his mouth when she arched into his devouring. It was a sloppy, deep kiss with great attention to the places he knew would send her reeling. Her stiff nub of a clit, her wet entrance, the petals of her sex, everything warm and soaked and blood-engorged. He abandoned these labors only to find new places to kiss, dipping further south, hearing her make sharp noises that sounded new to his ear. Then upward again to flick at her clit and suckle there until he felt her hips moving with the dip and thrust of his face.

She twisted under him, gripping his head with her thighs. She clasped at the mattress, the pillow behind her, his hair. She could hear his moans muffled into her when she came and drowned him out with her sharp cries and growls. She fell back against the covers, sweat-dampened and satiated. She watched Mikael sit up between her legs and lick his lips, and she went to him then, up on her knees in a flash and kissing the taste of her off his mouth.

“Is it what you expected?” he chuckled, winded and holding her slender waist with one arm.

“Close,” she answered simply, not wanting to say “better.”