“I’m just curious. Shouldn’t we know these things about each other? We’ve been dating nearly two weeks now.” When I shrug, he says, “You brought it up.”
“I . . .” I wilt a little and keep my eyes covered.
“I’m not going to judge you.”
That’s the most ridiculous lie I’ve ever heard, but I pretend to believe him. “Eight,” I say quietly.
“Eight?” He sounds incredulous. He couldn’t even make it one second without judging me.
“Maybe seven and a half,” I correct.
“Wait—how do you have half sex with someone?”
“It wasn’t . . . I mean, I didn’t really want to do it.”
“He raped you?”
“I don’t know. We were making out and I didn’t really want to do more, but . . .”
“But he was already excited?” He says it like it makes total sense to him.
“Yeah.”
“Eight guys,” he says, discounting my adjustment. “Wow. That’s a lot.”
“I don’t know. Most of them were relationships, not just . . . you know, one-night stands.”
“But some of them were?”
I shrug.
“How many?”
“How many what?”
“How many were just strange men you picked up at a bar?” God, this color commentary.
I grab a number out of the air. “Three.”
“Jesus.”
“What?” I cry. “You said you wouldn’t judge me. And that’s not so many. I’m thirty! What’s your number?”
He laughs. “I’m a guy. It’s higher.”
“Then I don’t know why you’re judging me,” I grumble.
“It’s just a lot for a girl, that’s all. You’re almost into double digits.”
“But I’m not!”
“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands to try to calm my sensitive feelings. “You don’t want dessert, do you?”
I do, of course, but I shake my head.
He pays the bill and we walk to the car. He’s silent on the drive to my place, and I’m still pretending to feel bad about what he said, so I stay quiet too. The days are getting shorter and it’s full dark even though it’s only 7:30.
I haven’t seen Luke at all this week and I’m getting bored with this long game. To entertain myself as we drive, I try to predict where my cat will be when I get home. Her favorite place is the highest place, of course, on top of the cabinets. But she doesn’t have to convey superiority when I’m not there, so maybe she’ll be sprawled on the couch or curled on the bed.
The silence holds until Steven slides into a parking space a few doors from my building and shuts off the engine. “My dad is really old-fashioned. I don’t believe all that stuff.”
Ah, right. I’m supposed to be worrying about my sexual worthiness. “But you believe some of it?” I press.
“Look, I think premarital sex is a sin, yes. But nowadays people don’t get married at sixteen, and men have needs. Women have needs too,” he adds hastily. “I get that.”
“Okay. Sure. I’d better get inside. I need to check on my cat.”
“The cat.” He groans, letting his head fall back against the seat as the interior lights fade to dark. “I forgot about that. There’s probably cat hair everywhere already.”
“There’s not.”
“Whatever. I can’t risk it with my allergies.”
“Oh. Okay.” It’s the first time he’s mentioned being allergic.
“I guess we’ll have to say good night now.” He smiles and reaches to slide his hand behind my neck. “Come ’ere.”
I let him pull me toward him for a kiss. He kisses me hard and deep, as if he’s already turned on. I’m not, but I let him devour me and I gasp when I feel his hand on my breast.
He tugs me even closer, twisting me over the console in a way that would’ve turned me off if I’d been anywhere near excited. Then he grabs my wrist and lowers my hand to his crotch. He’s hard, and I wonder if I’m supposed to be impressed that I’ve caused an erection.
“Oh God,” he groans. “You’re so fucking hot.”
I haven’t really done anything except confirm that I’m a slut, so I guess that’s his thing. I cup his penis for a moment. I even rub it a little and he thrusts up into my hand.
“Steven . . .”
“Oh yeah. Touch me, baby.”
“Steven, I can’t.”
“You’ve got me so hard.”
“I know, but . . .” I twist my wrist out of his grip. “We just started dating. I don’t want you to think—”
“I know. I don’t think that. I swear. Just touch me a little.”
I let him put my hand over him again. This time he keeps his fingers pressed to mine as he thrusts into my palm. “You see what you do to me, Jane? God, I’m in pain.”
He slides his other hand over my chest and pops one more button on my dress. “Did you wear this for me?” he asks as he exposes my black lace bra.
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“I saw it when you leaned over in the office today and I knew it was for me.” He pushes his fingers under the lace and finds my nipple. “Oh God, yes. Unzip me,” he mutters.
“Steven. Anyone could walk by!”
“No one will walk by. And it’s dark.” He lets go of my hand and unzips his pants. “Just make me feel better,” he whispers. “That’s all. Please?” He takes out his penis and wraps my hand around it. “Make me feel good, Jane. Come on.”
I give in with a whimper. He urges me on, telling me how hot this is, how good it is. He tells me to move faster. I’m slightly turned on by the idea that someone could be watching from a second-floor apartment, but Steven makes no move to make me feel better.
Finally he finishes with a curse, thrusting and thrusting into my fist.
“Oh God,” I murmur, as if shocked at the outcome. Ha. The outcome.
A few seconds later Steven tucks himself away and zips up. I have nothing to clean up with and am forced to wipe my hand on my dress. “That was great,” he sighs.
Yeah. A real crowd-pleaser. I bite my lip, then exhale slowly. “Are you sure?” I ask in a shaky voice.
“You’re amazing,” he assures me. “Really. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Oh. Okay. Sure.”
“Hey.” He pulls me in for a gentler kiss. “I’ll watch and make sure you get inside. I can’t really get out now. I’m in a sticky situation.”
I laugh at his joke. “All right.”
“I’ll text you later, though.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Smiling uncertainly, I say good night and get out. He turns on his lights so he can see me walk to my door. I wave and escape inside.
Once in my apartment, I wash my hands, put out food for the cat, and then check my window to see if his vehicle is gone. It is.
Steven made absolutely no move to get me off, so I feel no qualms about texting Luke. I wouldn’t feel any qualms regardless, but I really do have the perfect justification, don’t I?
Want to come over? I ask Luke.
He does.
CHAPTER 18
I prefer a king-size bed so it’s easier for me to keep my distance if a man spends the night, but this place only accommodates a queen, and barely that. But Luke stays firmly on his side of the mattress after sex and I don’t feel crowded. When the cat jumps onto the bed and settles down on the blanket between us, Luke laughs.
“You got her! She’s gorgeous!”
“Thank you.”
“What’s her name?”
I shrug and rub my palm along her soft tail. “I don’t know.”
“She didn’t have one at the shelter?”
I grimace. “They called her Bunny.”
“That’s cute!”
“No, it’s awful. She’s far too regal for a stupid name like that.”
He scratches under her chin and she stretches to give him better access. “She is very regal.” When he stops scratching, she butts his hand and rubs her cheek against him, marking him as another of her new possessions. He gives her more scratches. “Well, you have to name her.”
“She’s a cat. What does she care? She’s not going to come when I call her. Not unless there’s food.”
“Good point.”
“So you like cats?” I ask.
“Sure. I had one when I was little. What’s not to like?”
Exactly.
“What about you? Did you have cats?”
“No. She’s my first.”
“Dogs?”
“Just junkyard dogs who lunged at everyone, including me.”
“Yikes. That doesn’t sound very fun.”
“No. It wasn’t. The dogs didn’t seem to like the situation much either.”