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MIRA
“Three?”Jen’s eyes ratcheted so wide, Mira half expected a cartoonboi-oingsound effect. “Three times?”
“Yep,” Mira admitted before knocking her entire espresso back in one bewildered go. When Cole had made her come twice in his cabin last week, she’d worked very hard to chalk it up to more luck. Then it happened again in his car parked in the woods a couple days later, and then again the other day in her bed—and then her shower—before Ian got home from school and her mom got back from afternoon tea with Maude Alice. But last night, when she brought him fresh strawberry shortcake and he decided to put the whipped cream to much better use, she realized there wasn’t a pot of gold big enough to take the blame for three orgasms.
“Jesus.” Jen picked absently at her chocolate chip scone. “I don’t think I’ve ever come three times in a row. Two is practically miraculous. But three? That’s sainthood-level boning. Is he just walking around with a golden halo around his head and his balls clanging together like cowbells?”
It was a good thing Mira had already swallowed her espresso, or Jen might have wound up wearing it. “What?”
“You know,” Jen said, laughing. “Like rams. The hottest ones who get all the ewes strut around with these big, dangly balls all day.”
“Hot rams? Are you watching that farm dating show again? Because I don’t think that’s a thing, even for sheep.”
Jen only shrugged, brushing red curls off her shoulder before breaking off a corner of the scone and popping it into her mouth.
“Cole wouldn’t necessarily be clanging his cowbell balls together anyway, because”—she bit her cheek, embarrassment drawing her shoulders toward her ears—“I’m not sure he knows how hot of a ram he is.”
Leveling her with a confused stare that slid into suspicion, Jen chewed, then swallowed as the music faded. The silence between one song and the next lasted so long Mira almost faked a cough to break it. But just as the steel drums of “Jane Says” chimed through the bakery speakers, Jen asked, “Why would Cole not know? Surely you’re not implying—”
“I’m having silent orgasms,” she blurted out as quickly as she could, the verbal equivalent of ripping off a Band-Aid. “And don’t call me Shirley.”
Jen’s lips didn’t so much as twitch at the joke. “What in the world is a silent orgasm?”
“It’s when you come, but silently,” Mira explained, although it seemed fairly self-explanatory to her.
“Okay,” Jen said slowly. “Let’s try again. Why in the world are you coming silently?”
“I don’t know!” Mira flung her hands into the air. “I wish I did. Because I’m sure he knows. I’m sure he can tell.” There was no way anyone who fucked like he did, anyone who was as attentive and skilled andcreativeas he was, wouldn’t sense when their partner was coming apart at the seams. “I told him I only come once, because I usually do. And when I almost came twice the first time we were together, I kind of brushed it off. But then, the next time, I did come twice, and when he asked me about it, I froze up. I didn’t answer. And now we’re, like, stuck there. Like it’s this multiple-orgasm elephant in the room. He doesn’t ask, I don’t tell, and the whole thing has become so weird I can barely stand it.”
“Huh,” Jen said with a deep, contemplative pout.
“Yeah,” Mira concurred. She knew how it sounded. She knew how it felt. Like she’d tried to protect herself by making the smart, mature, adult decision to keep their relationship purely physical, and the universe had laughed hysterically and said, “Great plan! Here’s three weeks of the most amazing sex you’ll ever have. Good luck!”
“So, what’s keeping you from just…starting to get louder?”
Mira leaned forward, because even alone in her bakery with her best friend, she could only whisper the truth. “I’m scared, Jen. I feel like I have to be quiet. Like if I admit out loud how good everything with him is—”
“Reality might bite?” she offered.
Mira nodded miserably. “But I was going to try to talk to him about it last night. I really was. And thenboom.”
Sitting back with a deep, knowing exhale, Jen raised three fingers.
“Three fucking orgasms.” As dramatically as possible without hurting herself, Mira collapsed against the counter, dropping her head onto her folded arms, because it was about to get so much worse.
She’d gotten her test results back that morning, and while they couldn’t celebrate their condom-free lifestyle right away since her chaotic period had decided to start in the middle of the night, even the delusional part of her that believed she’d reached black belt status in the ancient art of stealth orgasms knew there was no way she’d sneak another one past him while he was bare. Her traitorous clit, absolutely no help at all, throbbed at the thought.
“This is interesting,” Jen said. “I know lots of women who have complicated relationships with orgasms, but this one might take the cake.”
“You’re not helping,” Mira groaned into her arms.
“Do you want my help?”
Raising her head, Mira said, “Please.”
“You should tell him.”
“But it’s too good, Jen.”
