From my spot on her chest, I have a close-up view of her nipple through her bra and shirt. It’s right there, almost staring back at me, so I do the logical thing and start circling it with a fingertip. Then I go over it with my knuckle like it’s a tiny speedbump and my finger is a miniature car. In my head I make the accompanying sound effects.

“Miller?” Her voice is breathy.

“’Sup, baby?”

“Can you lift your head for a second?”

I don’t want to, but I do it because she asked. Sunny arches up, pulling her shirt and that horrible sports bra over her head. Bam! Just like that she’s topless. And I’m hard again. Faint tan lines highlight her breasts.

“I thought maybe we could pick things up where we left off.”

“I think that’s a great idea.” I shift so I’m on my side next to her, one of my legs between hers. I don’t dive right in and start sucking on her nipples.

With guys, all the foreplay is nice but unnecessary. We’re happy with a handle grab and some stroking. Women are different. They need more than physical contact. It’s psychological. It’s always better when there’s lead up. I’ve seen some cool documentaries on the topic. It’s like research. Porn is probably the worst possible thing a guy can watch to get pointers on what gets a woman off. Pounding away like a jackhammer isn’t going to do it. There has to be connection. I’m good at that. I say all the right things, use all the right techniques. If there was a Masters in female orgasms, I’d have one.

I kiss her neck and rest my hand on her waist, inching my way up her side until I’m almost palming the swell. Leaning to the side, I prop myself up on an elbow and go back to circling her nipple with a fingertip. I kiss my way across her jaw until I’m at her lips.

We make out like that for a while, and every time things start to heat up, I change my approach. Her little hums and moans turn desperate, so I nibble along her throat and over her collarbone until I reach her boob. When her hands go into my hair and she arches her back, I lick her nipple.

“Miller.” It’s more groan than word.

“You want a little more of that?” I ask.

Her palm curves around the back of my neck, pushing my face into her boob. “That’d be great.”

“Like this?” I cover her nipple with my mouth, sucking softly.

“Exactly like that.”

While I use my mouth on the top half of her body, I ease a hand down to palm her through her shorts.

“What’re you doing?” Sunny asks.

I stop sucking her nipple so I can answer. “Uh . . . touching you? Do you want me to stop?” I can’t see why she would considering she’s been rubbing herself on my thigh since I started with the nipple love, but it’s always better to ask than assume.

“Yes. No. Wha—I don’t, but you already did that.”

“I’m happy to do it again.”

“But I already came, and you haven’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be a one-for-one thing, Sunny, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ll make you come as many times as you want me to, unless you have a thing against multiple orgasms.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but when she doesn’t answer right away I lean back. “Sunny?”

Her eyes dart to the ceiling, away from mine. “I’ve never had more than one.”

“Seriously? But you can have, like, four million in a row.” If I was chick I’d get myself off all the time, every hour of every day, probably. I guess it’s a good thing guys can’t have that many in a row. Otherwise we’d never get anything done.

Sunny shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve never tried to have another one. Usually my wrist is sore after the first one since it takes so long.”

“It didn’t take long for me to get you off downstairs.”

She bites her lip. “It didn’t.”

“You cool with it if I try again, then?”

“Okay. If you want, but don’t worry if you can’t make it happen.”

“Oh, I’ll make it happen.” I sit back on my knees and hook my fingers into the waistband of her shorts, ready to get down to business. “Can I take these off?”

At her nod, I drag them over her hips and down her legs. I take a moment to appreciate her panties, which isn’t something I usually do. They’re not satin or lace, they don’t have bows or ribbons or bling on them, and they don’t say anything dirty, but they lead to the one place I want to bury my face in more than anything else in this world right now, so they’re awesome.

“Can these go, too?” I ask, fingering the waistband.

She lifts her hips, pulls them down, and tosses them over the edge of the bed—along with her shorts.

I let out a low whistle as I catalog every bare inch of skin. “Well, my imagination sucks. You look way fucking better naked than anything my brain cooked up.”

Sunny laughs and then sighs as I run my hands up the outside of her thighs. All her naked skin touches my naked skin—except for where my shorts act as a buffer—as I settle between her parted thighs. Starting at her lips, I kiss my way down her body, stopping at her nipples before moving on. Halfway down her stomach, she grabs me by the hair. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make you come again, remember?”

“But—I—you—down?”

She seems flustered, so I explain, in case my actions aren’t clear enough. “I wasn’t planning on using my fingers this time.”

“Oh. You want to—”

“Go down on you.”

“With your mouth?”

“That’s generally how it’s done, unless you know another way I’m unfamiliar with.”

“Uhhhhhhh . . .” She draws it out.

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

“It’s not that.”

“Awesome. This is gonna be kickass.” I’m about to go back to kissing the spot below her navel again, but her fingers tighten in my hair.

“Miller.”

“’Sup, sweets?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Sure. Fire away.”

I glance up. Her cheeks are flushed, and I haven’t even gotten started yet. Her blond hair is fanned out all over the pillow and messed up from the making out. It’s so damn sexy, apart from the fact that she seems self-conscious.

“It’s nice that you want to try to make me come with your mouth, but that’s never happened before. So don’t, like, sprain your tongue trying or anything.”

Hear those tires screeching? That’s my brain backing up. “Whoa. Wait. What?” I must have heard that wrong. “Do you mean no one’s ever made you come with their mouth, or no one’s ever gone down on you before?”

“Well . . .” There she goes, twirling her hair around her finger. “I mean, until you no one had made me come, like, ever.”

“What the fuck? You never had an orgasm until me?” Inside my head there’s a stadium of people cheering me on, because that makes me seriously awesome.

Sunny stares at my forehead. “I’ve had orgasms.”

I need more intel. “So what do you mean it’s never happened before? No one’s ever eaten your cookie?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean—God, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I’m embarrassing her. I want to ask more questions about how the hell she managed to have a long-term boyfriend in high school—that’s the information Violet passed on to me from Waters—and never managed to have an orgasm. But I don’t want her to feel bad about it. I do want to find the guy and smack him upside the head—and possibly thank him at the same time. His inadequacy makes me a certifiable god.

I plant an elbow on either side of her ribs and hover over her so we’re face to face. “Yes or no questions only, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’ve had orgasms?”

“Yes.”

“On your own?” I’m clarifying. Also, it’s hot.

“Yes.”

I want to mention how sexy I think that is, but I need to stay on point. “With your fingers?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

Her cheeks flame. “That’s not a yes or no question.”

That’s definitely a yes. “We’ll come back to that one later. Has anyone else ever gotten you off?” She’s already told me the answer to this question. I’m making one-hundred-percent certain I heard her correctly.