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The pain becomes bearable the more he thrusts into me, slow and steady, biting his lip to keep from going faster. Harder. The sound of him slapping against me sounds above the music, above Damien Rice singing for Amie to come sit on his wall, and for some reason hearing it makes me throw my head back into the pillows and softly moan.
“Jesus,” says Robert, a drop of sweat trickling down his nose. “I don’t know if I can…hold back.”
His body moves faster, the rhythm somehow possessive, like he’s marking me. Then he’s falling on top of me, pouring himself into me as he comes. I breathe quick and heavy, my eyes wide as I watch him groan with pleasure. He wraps his arms around me and rolls so that I’m lying on top of him. Running the tips of his fingers down my ribs and along my hips, he seems to pulsate with satisfaction, a warm smile touching his lips.
“You’re almost too sweet,” he says. He’s still inside me, and, despite the discomfort, I don’t want him to withdraw. I want to fall asleep just like this, the two of us connected in the most fundamental and perfect way possible.
“Hmm?” I make a questioning noise, too lost in my own thoughts to voice proper words.
“Those little moans and whimpers you make,” he explains, his tone gentle. “They have the power to completely undo me.”
Liking the sound of that, I snuggle my face into his neck and run the tip of my nose back and forth over his sweaty skin. He smells and feels so good. A long while later he finally moves me, pulling out and removing the condom. He throws it into the bin in the corner of the room, and it takes me a moment or two to notice he hasn’t returned to me yet. When I move to look at him, I see he’s staring at the bed sheets, staring at the blood on them. He reaches out with his hand, almost like he’s going to touch it, but then stops himself.
His shoulders straighten with resolve just before he pulls the duvet over to cover the stain.
“Are you okay?” I ask, worried.
He runs his hand through his dishevelled hair. “Yeah.” He’s silent for a second before continuing, “It’s not like I didn’t expect the blood — it just feels different seeing it, like I’ve hurt you or something. I’m sick of hurting you.”
Gripping his shoulder, I pull him back to me and curl myself around him, dragging the duvet up further to cover us. “We’re starting with a blank slate, Robert. Just don’t hurt me anymore. That’s all I ask of you.”
His arms tighten around me like a vice. “I won’t,” he whispers, a quiet promise. “I won’t.”
After that he uses his fingers to send me off into the most perfect orgasm-induced slumber. Waking up the next morning, all I can smell in the room is sex and Robert. The scent invades my senses, drowning me. I nervously wonder if Sasha was home to hear us last night, but then I remember her car not being in the drive when we’d gotten back, so she must have come home later…after Robert and I had fallen asleep.
Robert’s face is pressed into the hollow of my neck as I stretch out my limbs, the area between my legs feeling distinctly different. It’s kind of like after you do a new exercise that works a muscle you’ve never used before, and the next day you feel all achy. That’s the closest I can get to describing it.
The man who made love to me stirs beside me, gloriously naked and more perfect than any Greek statue I’ve studied over the years. The symmetry of his features has been programmed into my brain to bring forth attraction and lust, whether I like it or not.
He smiles into my skin. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Morning. Are you going to work today?” I ask, seeing it’s just gone seven o’clock.
Sighing, he drags his body up and scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, I wish I could stay right here, though.”
“Mmm, that would be the ideal day.”
He chuckles and cups my breast tenderly. “We’ll do that this Saturday, then.” His eyes grow serious as he gives me a concerned look. “How are you feeling? Any soreness?”
“I’m a little sore, but it’s nothing a long soak in the bath won’t fix.”
Robert groans and lets go of my breast, leaning down to give it a mournful kiss goodbye. “Don’t put ideas in my head. I’m this close to calling in sick.”
“You shouldn’t, not after what happened yesterday with your dad.”
“I know. Fuck, I really don’t want to have to face him today. Promise you’ll come to the office at one and have lunch with me. That way I’ll at least have something to look forward to.”
“Okay, sure. I’ve never been to your dad’s offices before.”
Standing up from the bed with not a scrap of clothing on him, he begins reciting directions.
“Take a left turn after Baccino’s, keep walking for about five minutes, and you’re there. You can’t miss it. Tell the girl on reception you’re there to see me, and she’ll let you in. My office is on the sixth floor. I’ll order something in.”
I smile. “Righteo. Looking forward to it.”
He kisses me deeply, and then goes to take a shower and get ready. I fall back into the bed, closing my eyes and breathing in the smell of him on the pillows. Once he’s left for work, I do have that bath, taking a book in with me and allowing myself a nice long soak. Afterwards I feel more like myself again. Images of last night shift through my head, making me blush, even though I’m completely alone. And then, all of a sudden it hits me. I’m no longer a virgin.
The concept seems strange and foreign now that it’s behind me; this airy, mythical thing that once made me feel so alienated is gone. Should I feel different? Like a new person? Well, if I should, I don’t. I’m still me, and all the hours I’d spent worrying about it seem so ridiculous in retrospect.
