Easy

The next morning, Claire waited until she was certain her mother had left for work.

Daniel was sprawled on the living room couch.

Unshaven.

His clothes were wrinkled.

The dark circles beneath his eyes made it obvious he hadn't slept much.

Claire stopped in the doorway.

For a moment she simply looked at him.

The sight should have satisfied her.

Instead it made her uneasy.

"Not feeling well?" she asked. Compassion softened her voice.

He glanced at her. The look lasted barely a second before he turned away again.

He grunted something unintelligible.

Claire sat down in the armchair across from him.

Neither of them spoke.

The silence stretched.

Finally Daniel rubbed a hand across his face.

"You stayed out all night."

Claire nodded.

"I know."

Another silence.

"You should have called. How can I keep you safe if I don't know where you are?"

The words escaped before he could stop them.

Claire looked at him carefully.

He still believed that he had to take care of her, that she couldn't look after herself.

That would only end when he learned that he had to let go. He would have to set her free of his own accord.

Sometimes the best way to learn is by pain.

Claire didn't answer; she stood and let her jacket slip from her shoulders onto the floor.

The sound made his eyes snap toward her.

Claire looked at him carefully. What was in his eyes?

Not anger.

Need.

He had to put that impossibility out of his mind.

So, she had to push him so far that he was the one who said “stop.”

She slowly ran her tongue across her lips.

It was obvious he wanted to say something. Then he clenched his jaw, turned away from her, and draped an arm over his eyes.

Claire stepped closer, smoothing the hem of her miniskirt.

"You know you could end it at any time."

His teeth ground together so hard she was almost afraid he might crack one.

But he couldn't bring himself to say that one word.

Claire crouched beside the couch.

Her hand settled on his chest almost weightless.

One finger traced a slow line down the front of his shirt, tentatively, following the row of buttons toward his belt, stopping short of certainty.

"Claire."

His name for her sounded like a plea.

Even he didn't seem to know whether he wanted her to stop or keep going.

"Should I keep going?"

Claire took her time.

She didn’t rush the moment—or him.

He stopped pretending. By the time she got there, he was already half-hard.

Her movements were calm, practiced. Until he was fully erect. Pre-cum made him slippery and glossy. His breath came ragged and shallow.

Daniel averted his eyes, as if he could undo what was happening if he didn’t see it.

His body betrayed him anyway.

“Does that feel good?” she teased. “Does it help you relax?”

The sound that came from his throat was somewhere between a sob and a curse.

A faint smile touched her lips. That was a lesson he would not soon forget.

She adjusted her rhythm, watching for the smallest tells. A shift in breath. A tension that gave way.

“Tell me”, she murmured, quieter now. “Where you want this to go.”

That broke something in him.

His reaction became less controlled, immediate. No more thinking. Just instinct.

Claire didn’t flinch.

Instead, she held her ground, steadying the moment the way you steady a blade before you strike.

She timed it exactly until she delivered the next stroke.

“You want me to suck it?”

Bullseye.

This time the twitch was violent.

She squeezed hard.

Held him tight. With just one hand, she had more strength than he could have mustered to free himself.

Quietly, she waited until he had calmed down.

Then she started again. Just a little faster this time.

“Claire. Don’t.”

Two words. The first was true. The second a lie.

She pushed him further. Brought her other hand into the action, reaching between his legs.

She held him in such a way that no man would dare do anything foolish while in that predicament.

Ragged breathing.

He dug his fingers into the upholstery beneath him.

Claire was no amateur. She knew what she was doing. Knew the signs that told her whether she needed to speed up and bring him to climax.

Or stop.

STOP.

“What…” His voice trailed off.

The trembling was worse than a fever.

Before he could hold her, Claire was already on her feet and backed away a few steps. Left him stranded just before the threshold.

He looked at her with glassy eyes.

“Why?”

Her expression was unreadable.