That overconfident expression he’d worn slipped a little. “Maybe you do have a point about this section.”
Oh, yeah, she’d show him. Reaching for her remote, she turned on her stereo and selected music from the Bogani region. Her apartment was soon filled with the sounds of drums. Primal. Like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat.
Then she reached and took that hateful red pen from his fingers and dropped it to the floor. “The Bogani are a close-knit, family-oriented culture.”
He mouthed the word boring. So she reached for the thick stack of pages comprising her printed manuscript. “Obviously you can improve upon my writing, but you need to actually experience this to truly understand what I’m trying to convey.”
He cocked his head. A study in disbelief.
“I wouldn’t have understood a singles bar until I experienced it.”
Ian let her tug the papers from his hand easily. “I’ve already crossed this section out.”
“I’m putting it right back in. The way the Bogani men learn to pleasure a woman will not only be helpful to less experienced men who might be reading the book, but could also be a fun role play. Dual purpose.”
“Role play?” he asked. “Now that’s some inspiration.” His eyes let her know he was more than curious about her next move.
That next move led to her couch.
“You won’t need your laptop, either,” she told him as she reached for his hand and drew him away from the kitchen table he’d commandeered for the butchering of her masterpiece.
“The Bogani people frown on couples separating, and believe pleasure in the marriage bed makes for a happy union,” Ava told him as she tugged him into her front room.
“Sometimes not even that can save a marriage.”
Mr. Cynicism was back. Good. She liked demonstrating her techniques to him best. Made it all the sweeter when her point was successfully proven. “True, but it’s never a reason for a breakup. That’s where the widows come in. Some say they make the bed play work. Plus they’re going to save this section from your red pen. And this time, it won’t be dull.”
“Been giving this some thought?”
“Actually it just came to me. Sit.”
Ian made himself comfortable against the cushions of her couch while she kicked off her sandals.
“When a man has proven he can support himself and leave his parents, he’s also free to be chosen by one of the widows to show him how to pleasure a woman,” she sat beside him on the couch, his jeans-clad thigh brushing along her bare skin.
“She’d have to choose the man she’d tutor carefully, for he’d pay a yearly tribute to her until his death. It’s actually a nice little social system. It ensures that women without protectors are provided for, while potentially removing one of the major barriers to marital happiness.”
“Are there jealousies?”
Ava shook her head. “No. Once he marries, he and the widow don’t see one another again. If the widow has done her job well, the wife has nothing but praise for her. Bogani place high importance on monogamy. Although the widow walks a fine line. She knows she’s there as a teacher, and strives to make the process without intimacy.”
“How does she do that?” he asked.
“By never making eye contact. By never talking about anything other than how to pleasure his future wife. Every touch, every caress, every new sensation is all encased in the future.”
Ava deliberately lowered her gaze. Now she’d show him how lovers could role-play the Bogani teaching times.
“Boys and girls were usually separated from one another, learning the skills needed to keep their tribe thriving, so when they eventually make it back together, there’s a lot of curiosity and shyness. So the first thing the widow teacher would do would be to make him feel comfortable with a woman’s body. Receiving her touch and giving his. That first meeting he’d usually only stroke her.”
Without looking up, she lifted his hands to the bare skin of her shoulder. He was warm and solid, and even with the barest of touches, not pulling off the inexperienced young man illusion very well.
“She’d instruct him how to run his fingers gently along her exposed skin. Softly caressing all the erogenous zones on a woman. Her neck. Her ears. How to sink his fingers into her hair, stroke her scalp. A lot of this can be missed in today’s rushed lovemaking.”
Ian followed her instructions perfectly. Deliciously. Her skin grew warm under his fingertips, achy for more of his touch. With shaky knees, Ava stood, still not meeting his eyes.
“Then she’d lead him to the small of her back. With even the lightest pressure there, the muscles loosen and it feels so good.”
She sucked in a breath when Ian’s fingers eased the tension that had gathered in that spot after seeing her book covered in red.
“The more relaxed a woman is, the easier her blood is flowing through her veins, the quicker it is for her to reach her peak.”
“Are you feeling relaxed, Ava?”
Like jelly.
Ava wanted to raise her gaze. To see into his eyes. To gauge his expression, and see if it matched the husky aroused sound of his voice. But she didn’t. That’s what made this experience so unique, so intense and yet slightly detached. Western cultures placed a lot of emphasis on meeting another’s eyes. By not, the whole dynamic between two people completely changes.
Like now.
“He could slide his hands down. The skin behind the knee is very sensitive. Or she may suggest he find her inner elbow with his mouth.”
Ian did both. The warmth of his tongue was a purely erotic sensation against her skin. Detached? Who was she kidding? She felt fully engaged.
“When does he kiss her?” he asked, his voice rough and low and sexy as hell. Ian had even added a move of his own, gently blowing against the bare skin of her stomach, the warmth making her tingle.
“He doesn’t,” she said, her voice sounding close to a moan. He tugged her closer toward him and his tongue began to wind a lazy path along her collarbone and slowly moved to below her ear.
Ava was losing the upper hand. She needed to stay focused. Fall back on research.
“You know there are many cultures that never kiss, the Inuit in Alaska being the most well-known. Across the world from the Americas, the Pacific areas and Africa, we find many people that never touched lip to lip. Although researchers documented the kiss first in India, dating it as far back as 1500 BCE.”
His hands curved around her hips and drew her still nearer to the heat of his body. She lost her balance and landed in his lap. Startled, she finally met his eyes. Dark brown and full of intense heat and hunger. Intimate.
“Good thing that no-kissing rule doesn’t extend to my culture.” Then Ian lowered his head, his lips on hers. Heaven. His lips were firm and something elemental exploded inside her.
She wanted more, but Ian broke off the kiss. He smoothed the sweep of her hair over her shoulder and kissed her neck. Licking that place below her ear.
“This is not what we’re supposed to be doing here. The Bogani women are always in control and would never allow the man to take over like this.”
“Oh, yeah?” He nipped her earlobe. “Tell me what else we’re not supposed to be doing.”
Her fingers traveled up his to grasp the muscles of his shoulder. Then she sank her fingers into the hair at his neck. She’d loved the feeling of his hand stroking her scalp. Loved hearing his breath quicken when she did the same.
“I shouldn’t be on your lap like this.” His thighs hardened beneath her.
“Maybe you shouldn’t press your breasts against my chest. I’d hate that.”
Her nipples drew taut, the sheer fabric not hiding her body’s response to his words. Ava flattened herself against him, and he groaned.
“A Bogani widow would spend a whole day teaching a man how to touch a woman’s breasts. To caress and stroke and finally lick.”