SCRIBE: Sons of Hell M.C. by Rebecca Joyce

Author:Rebecca Joyce [Joyce, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Henley

The second I stopped laughing, silence descended as I found Scribe staring at me in wonderment.

The look on his face said it all.

He truly wanted me.

I wanted him too, but I had no idea about how to proceed next.

This was my first rodeo, and while I knew the scientific application of the process, it was everything else that eluded me.

Like, for starters, who initiated first? What if it was me and he rebuffed me? What if I did something wrong? Was there a learner’s guide to foreplay? Like Sexual Foreplay for Dummies, I could order on Amazon?

If there wasn’t, there should be.

Scribe laughed loudly as he hugged me closer to him. “God, baby, you are precious. Sex is exploration. You won’t know it until you try. It doesn’t matter who goes first, and trust me, if there was a learner’s guide, I would have read it. But there isn’t.”

“Shit. I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“You did.” He nodded before adding. “There is no right or wrong here. We do what makes us feel good. Here, let me show you.”

Tenderly running his hand down my face, I felt the warmth of his touch send tingles cascading all over my body as goose bumps broke out, heightening the sensation.

“See,” he whispered. “You like what I just did. Your body is a good indicator of what you’ll like and won’t like. But I’m betting you’ll like everything I do.”

Smirking, I looked at him. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Not my first rodeo, babe.”

It was at that moment I realized how unprepared I was. All the reading I’ve done, all the textbooks, romance books, movies I watched, nothing prepared me for how to begin.

“You’re thinking too much again, Princess.”

“You would be too if this was your first time.”

“It’s not a test, Henley.”

“Feels like it,” I muttered.

One I didn’t want to fail.

“Let’s even the playing field. Maybe that will ease your tension.”

I was all for that.

My nerves were about to jump out of my skin.

Reaching for my shirt, Scribe lifted the hem. Raising my arms, he helped me out of it, leaving me only in my bra.

Sitting up, Scribe brushed the back of his hand across my cheeks.

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