"Oh–well, I hate to disappoint you then, but I’m on birth control," she murmurs with a smile on her face.
"Too bad." I lean back against the couch with a knowing smirk.
"Do I need to worry about you being clean?" She sits up and holds her nightshirt to her chest as she studies me.
"I'm clean, baby. I haven’t been with a woman since I was in high school." I look up at her and notice a small frown forming on her face.
“Oh, well I've only been with one other person," she breathes. “It’s been a very long time.”
"You've only been with one other person besides me, sweetheart?" I’m surprised and impressed. She’s so beautiful, she must be fighting off the men.
"Yeah." She whispers the word in a soft voice.
"Jesus, if I’d known, I would have been gentler or..." I trail off.
"You wouldn't have slept with me?" She tilts her head to the side, curious about my answer.
I let out a laugh at her expression, a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "I wouldn't say that." I grin mischievously and reach for her breast, playfully tugging on her nipple.
"Good, then it doesn't matter."
“It just doesn’t seem like . . .”
“What doesn't seem like what? Just say it, Archer.” She's goading me; she already knows what I'm trying to say.
“You fuck like a wild animal, baby. It doesn't seem like you've only ever been with one person.”
“Oh...thanks, I guess?” She flashes a sly grin that lights up her whole face and accentuates her flushed cheeks from the recent orgasm.
“Quit giving me that look.”
“Yes, boss.”
“I like that attitude.” I grab her arm and tug her back down towards me, taking her lips in a sensual kiss.
“I'm sore, already. You fucked me into submission.” She giggles, a sound that’s music to my ears and makes me smile uncontrollably.
“Be careful, sweetheart.” I playfully smack her ass. “We can get kinky if that's what you want.”
“Ow, oh my God.” She jumps up and rubs her ass cheek. I laugh and wink at her before pulling her back down for another kiss.
I curl her into me, wrapping her in my arms as the fire flickers with warmth.
“Tell me about where you came from—the city, your family,” I say. She plays with the soft edge of a knit blanket.
“There isn’t much to say. Dad’s an alcoholic, mom makes excuses for it. It’s hard to talk to them, they’re always asking for money or guilt-tripping me for not visiting more often. I try to keep my distance.”
“I’m sorry about that, sweetheart.” I offer.
"It's okay. It's my life, it's what I grew up with," she says calmly. "So when I say I have no family, I mean it."
"No friends missing you?" I push, desperate for any information from her.
"Not really," she replies, her tone distant. "I don't really get attached to people."
My mind races, trying to make sense of her words. It's odd for someone to not form attachments. I lean forward and place a soft kiss on her shoulder.
"So you have no family, no friends," I mumble, "and so you moved all the way out here alone?"
