I'll Let You Set The Pace Novels & Stories

Crossing my legs, I sigh, hoping the erectness goes away, and I don't want her to think I'm desperate to be inside her when that's what I want. I want to be inside her again. I want to keep her up the whole night, moving inside her because it feels so pleasant to be inside her. If only she knew and let me, I would fuck her till dawn. But I need to pace myself. This relationship is very new, whatever we have between us right now. I can't hurt this by rushing into things. The sane part of my brain knows that I need to pace myself. "Fall asleep, Ms Fischer." I rub her back in soothing circles. "Have sweet dreams of me."

But which home first, which assumed that both existed, that both were real, and that the only question was sequence? "Velmoor," I said. He nodded. He had known that would be the answer. She could see it in the way he received it—not relieved, not surprised. Simply, yes, that is correct; that is the right order. I walked toward him. At the pace I walked when I was going somewhere I intended to arrive. Not hurried, not slow. The specific pace. He fell into step beside me the way he always fell into step beside me—at the pace I set, matching it without comment, without announcement, simply there.

I smiled feeling excited. He seemed to sense my excitement because he smiled. “If you are happy, then I am happy. Just promise me you will be careful.” “I promise; I will be careful.” At the stables on Valaisha, my mom was giving me instructions on how to race. “You go slow at first as to let your opponents believe they have the advantage. As you near the halfway marker, you can allow your tayren to have a little more speed but not all yet.

Liaison available for final walkthrough. Not seventy-two hours. Today. Miles read it, already pulling a second bag from the closet. “Of course he accelerated once he saw you preparing.” “He doesn’t like contested transitions,” I said. My voice sounded flatter than the thing in my chest. “If I move on my feet, he makes the deadline shorter so it still feels like force.”

I’m impressed. “ Let’s time it.” I read Speed saying. Ratchet presses a few keys and a stopwatch pops up in the corner of the screen. I see his finger hover over a button as he watches the track. When Speed is directly in front of us Ratchet hits the button and Speed takes off like a rocket. I swear she is back in front of us before I can blink. I look over at the stopwatch and see it has stopped at one hundred and twenty-five seconds. Ratchet types “ That is at one hundred and twenty miles per hour.” Holy fuck she is going that fast already. I see Ratchet reset the stopwatch. “ Speed’s words come across the screen “ Let’s see if we can do better.” Do better is she fucking kidding right now?

he offered. She paused for a few minutes considering what he said. She puffed out an exasperated breath. "And what do you mean by taking things gradually, exactly?" she quizzed, staring intensely at him. He sighed deeply. Give it a rest, Jane. He thought. just do as I say. He would have said the words as he thought them but after a pause, he decided not to. Instead, he gave her a tiny smile and said, rather coolly, "Let's enjoy this pace for a while and when you're a little used to it then we can go a bit further. Is that okay?"

he said. “That’s not my responsibility right now.” “I know.” Another pause. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.” I looked at him. Really looked this time. Because he wasn’t asking me to fix it. He was just… saying it. “I’m not ready,” I said. “I know.” “I don’t know when I will be.” “I know.” A small breath left my chest. Because somehow That made it easier. Not being pushed. Not being rushed. Just… being allowed to take it at my pace.

I hadn’t thought that far. “I don’t know.” “Two months?” “Maybe.” He nodded slowly. “Okay.” Just like that. But I could see the tension in his shoulders. Later that night, he sent a message. Daniel: I’m not trying to control this. Me: I know. Daniel: I just don’t want you to feel like I’m hesitating. Me: You’re not. Daniel: Then we’ll move at your pace. I stared at the message. Your pace. That mattered.

she replied. I stopped in front of her, maintaining a comfortable distance. “And it stayed controlled,” I added. “Yes,” she said again. I nodded once. “That is how it should be.” She studied my expression briefly. “It feels different now.” “How?” I asked. “It does not feel like everything is about to shift suddenly,” she said. “It feels like things are moving at a pace I can manage.” “That is because you set that pace,” I replied. She paused, then nodded slowly. “I think you are right.”

he replied, and that didn’t help but it confirmed what she was already seeing. The car in front slowed again, not suddenly, not enough to draw attention from anyone else on the road, just enough to trap her into a smaller window of movement, “they’re controlling the pace,” she said, “for now,” he replied, and that word again carried weight like something else was already coming, “then change it,” she said, “I am,” he replied, and her grip tightened slightly, if this was him changing it then she needed to see where it was going before she followed it completely.