The times after that—for the first two years that we were together anyway, the sex was good, but it gradually became all too similar. Slow. Gentle. Calculated.
No matter how frantic and heavy the foreplay was, the actual sex was never spur of the moment, never “right here, right now,” never interesting. In fact, I could practically predict how many times he would kiss me before and after, could practically predict all the words he would say: “You’re amazing, Paris...” “Is this good?” “Keep going, Paris...”
Still, it was never “bad sex,” just “nice sex.”
“We didn’t really talk about sex,” I say, avoiding Blake’s eyes. “We just did it. And honestly, it wasn’t terrible. It just wasn’t—”
“Hot and sweaty?”
“Passionate.” I roll my eyes. “After our third year together, we were both working so hard that sex kind of faded into the background. We were working like crazy, and staying on top of everything was way more important than a romp in the sheets...Besides, sex can always get better with someone you love. You don’t dump someone just because it’s not ‘out of this world.’ You just work on it together.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me with a blank expression.
“You’d dump your girlfriend if the sex wasn’t good?” I scoff.
“I’ve never had a girlfriend.”
WHAT?! “Who’s lying now?”
“It’s the truth. I’ve never had one.”
Unbelievable... “Next thing you’ll tell me is that you’re a virgin.”
He blinks and my eyes widen.
“Wait, wait, wait.” I shake my head. “Are you? Are you a virgin?”
“A what?”
“A virgin.” I stare at him in shock. “That would actually explain a lot...A whole lot.”
“Would it really?” He stands up and walks over to me, leaning against the edge of the table.
“It would...You really are a virgin aren’t you?”
“Care to share how you could ever come to that conclusion?”
“Simple really.” I replay the past few days in my mind and realize that it really does make sense. He could really be a virgin “Well first of all, you flirted with me a lot on the plane and you said some outrageous sexual shit, but you admitted that you only did that because you thought you’d never see me again. Because you knew you’d never have to prove it, because you couldn’t due to your lack of experience.”
He raises his eyebrow, but I continue.
“The other night, when you asked me for a kiss, you just kissed me and that was it. No non-virgin would do something like that. He would at least try to take things a little further, try to touch me somewhere else.” This is all adding up and I almost feel silly for not picking up on this sooner. “And then last night, when we were in the middle of playing Never Have I Ever, you tried to make it seem like you were sooo good at sex. Typical virgin behavior. And you finger-fucked me. Seriously? I haven’t been finger f**ked since I was in tenth grade...Oh, and it was by a guy who was also a virgin.”
“Are those all of your reasons?” He leans closer and blows a strand of hair away from my face.
“You need more? Everything I’ve said is pretty concrete.” I cross my arms. “Oh, and add in the fact that you’ve never had a girlfriend. That’s a dead ass give away...You know what else? I’m pretty sure you have a p**n collection buried underneath your lifetime supply of condoms. So if you’d like, we can watch a video together and I can explain sex to you. I can tell you all about it.”
He’s silent for a long time, simply looking at me—letting me know that I’m completely right about his virgin status. Then he suddenly grips me by my hips and lifts me up, setting me on top of the table.
He slides his fingers against the sash of my robe, slowly pulling it open and then he stops.
“Let’s get a few things straight, Paris.” He sits in the chair I was sitting in, positioning himself right between my legs. “I haven’t been a virgin since I was fifteen years old.”
My cheeks immediately turn red.
He opens my robe a little more. “I have flirted with you a lot this weekend and changed the subject quickly after I said something sexual, but only because if I actually told you how much I wanted to f**k you, you might not have ever come out of your room.”
I gasp as he slides a hand up my bare thigh.
“The other night,” he says, mocking me, “when I asked you for a kiss and that was it...I did want to take things further and touch you somewhere else. But I didn’t want you to feel like I was taking advantage of you.”
He leans forward and places his hands on my shoulders, slowly pushing my robe down my body—exposing the fact that I’m wearing nothing but a bra and panties underneath. “And last night, during Never Have I Ever, I wasn’t trying to make it seem like I was “sooo good at sex.” I am good at it—very, very good at it. And the only reason I slipped my fingers inside of you, was because I thought you would run off if you felt my dick.”
I am utterly speechless.