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I’m thrown off by his repeated use of the word “cock”, but he’s looking at me with eager eyes, and I get the impression he wants an answer to this one. I’m not quite sure how to respond, though. Iwanted it a lot, when I was knocking back shots in the low light of the bar. I wanted it even more when we got back to his flat and I was intoxicated simply by the feeling of a man’s hands on me. And now?
‘Oh, uh, yeah. I want it so much. Your… dick.’ It’s a weak ending, but he seems unfazed.
‘Such a good girl,’ he says, voice gravelly.
I pause for a moment, blinking at him, heart pounding from the confusing desire and displeasure running through me simultaneously. I hold back a grimace and say, ‘I’m not really into that, to be honest. Not my thing.’
I don’t know why he’d assume it was, considering we’ve literally just met and had not discussed it until now, but he recoils like I’ve said something wildly offensive and inexplicably asks, ‘Would you prefer “naughty girl”?’
‘We don’t need to talk,’ I suggest. ‘You can use your mouth in other ways.’ Now it’s his turn to stare blankly at me, so I say, ‘Like kissing. That’s what I meant.’
‘Oh,’ he says with asilly mechuckle. We give each other the kind of polite smile you offer your neighbour when you bump into them on the street, and he gets back to work, clumsily kissing my neck. But, well, I’m a simple woman; that’s enough to get the ball rolling again. His hands run along my collarbone, then across my chest. Turns out my top offers just the right amount of boob. I know this, because Aiden’s eyes were permanently glued to my chest the entire time we were at the bar. Sober, this might’ve made me feel dirty, but through tequila goggles I lapped up every moment of attention. Because I can still do this. I can still do the casual thing.
My jeans press into my stomach uncomfortably when I straddle his hips, and I tug at his hair and sigh into his mouth as I let my mind wander.
At least Aiden has a bedframe, which is a rarity when it comes to dating men. Now I’m thinking about it, I bet Finn has one. In fact, I can almost guarantee it.
I instantly pull back in surprise and Aiden asks, ‘Is something wrong?’
What was that? Finn has no business being in my head. Not now. Not while I’m doing this. I smile and lean back in, reminding myself why I’m here. I peek at the headboard while he plants kisses up my neck. It’s quilted leather, which tells me everything I need to know about this man, but he’s decently attractive and I’m ovulating, so my judgement is skewed.
And yet, this situation feels weird for some reason. I’ve had this kind of mediocre, sloppy sex before. I’ve enjoyed it well enough. But a niggling voice in my head tells me I’m done. For all my talk about needing to distract myself, apparently this is not the way to do it right now.
He pulls away with a vigorous slurp that, frankly, makes me feel like I’m listening to dentist ASMR, and I know it’s time to admit defeat. I wipe the wetness he’s left around my mouth and gingerly remove myself from his lap to sit next to him; lower-belly heat rapidly cooling with every passing second.
I don’t have time to tell Aiden there’s no need for him to continue. To my surprise, he locks his gaze with mine, pulls at his waistband, and, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, there it is. Abraca-fuckin’-dabra, lads.
I’m unsure if it’s the eagerness in his eyes, the unexpected deluge of saliva, or the way he keeps saying the word “cock”without a fraction of irony, but by this point my entire reproductive system has shrivelled up.
And yet, when he next opens his mouth, my insides somehow find new ways to close in on themselves. ‘Will your tight little pussy be able to take me?’
I tilt my head as I peer at his crotch. ‘I mean, probably?’
This stops him in his tracks. He clears his throat. ‘What do you mean, “probably”?’
A strap slides down my shoulder as I shrug. ‘I reckon I’d be fine with,’ I gesture in front of me, ‘that.’
His bravado is gone as quickly as my libido, voice half an octave higher than it was a moment ago. ‘It’s, like, okay though, right?’
I look down. It’s still bouncing around in that slightly unsettling way that penises do. My mind goes back to lying on the carpet and playing with those springy metal doorstops attached to skirting boards as a kid, flicking them to get them to make thatboingsound.
‘Yeah!’ Our eyes meet, much to my regret,and silence wraps its weighty limbs around us. I blink twice. Aiden’s nostrils flare. His dick still moves in my peripheral vision.Boing.After twenty seconds or an eternity, I break the hold. ‘Should I leave?’
‘I think that would be a good idea.’
Josiealmost screams when she finds me at the dining room table the next morning, hunched over my laptop and crunching loudly on the last of my toast, blinds still drawn to protect the sun-phobic demon I house within my body.
‘Holy Mother of God,’ she says, hand at her chest, the soft rollers in her hair and green silk pyjamas really heightening the whole Old Hollywood thing she’s got going on.
‘Nope, just me.’ I peer into my mug to find it empty. When did that happen?
‘At nine in the morning on a weekend. Who are you and what have you done with Ava?’ She approaches the table and shakes my shoulders roughly from behind. ‘Where have you taken her?’
‘Ha.’ I duck out of her grasp and push my chair back, peeling my bare legs from the wooden chair with a wince. ‘Tea?’
‘Always. Can you make one for Alina too? She’s in the shower.’
By the time she’s returned from taking Rudy out to the courtyard, I’m adding milk to our mugs.
