“Sure.”
I frown, brushing off the idea, focusing on something else she said. “I’m sorry about what I said the other night. I was a dick to you, and I—”
“I know. You apologized already.”
“I did, but I’m realizing I maybe don’t know her as well as I thought I did. When I defended her… it was from a place of shared history with her, not because I—” I stop. I almost say not because I didn’t believe you, because the truth is, I didn’t. Not at first. I thought Rose was jealous, or paranoid, or both.
But now I do, or I’m starting to. And it wasn’t the sex that changed my mind. I don’t know exactly when things shifted. Somewhere in all the time I’ve spent with her, it’s gotten easier to trust her.
“I believe you, Rose,” I say. “About the things you’ve told me. That first night, when you asked for a clean slate—I want that, too.”
Her face is carefully blank, but there’s a slight tick in her jaw, like she’s trying to hold herself together. Had I known what a revelation this conversation would be, I’d have pushed to stay in the motel room where we could have more privacy. But now that she’s opening up to me, I don’t want to let the opportunity pass.
“Since that’s cleared up, and I know what upset you at the bar, we should probably talk about last night. Safe sex, in particular.”
“Bit late for that,” she muses, sipping her coffee.
“Was kind of a heat of the moment decision, I’ll admit. I don’t… I’ve never been in that situation before. I’m prepared, usually, and… well, I just wanted you to know, it’s not like me. I’ve never fucked without a condom before.”
It sounds like a line, but it’s true. Even sex is typically organized, or at least, anticipated. My schedule is too rigorous for spontaneity. Also, as a doctor, I really have no excuse not to understand the consequences of unsafe sex.
Rose sets her cup down. “I got tested after my ex—twice, actually. Once right when we split and again a few weeks ago.”
Right. The cheating asshole.
“I’m sorry about him.”
She shrugs. “Not yours to be sorry. Anyway, I’m on birth control, though you coming all over my stomach was pretty hot.”
I cough, then glance around the coffee shop. This fucking woman.
“I got a vasectomy a few years back,” I say, lowering my voice. “It’s not a hundred percent, but between that and your birth control, we’re covered. For the record, this isn’t me petitioning for bareback, but since we already have, and we’re safe…” I pause. “It’s completely your call. I just know I’d like to keep going without one, if you’re open to it. But we can stop for condoms on the drive today.”
What I actually want to say isCan I please fuck that pussy raw again?—so fucking tight and responsive, matching me beat for beat, every clench, every gasp. There’s very little I wouldn’t give up just to spend another hour inside her. I found paradise between those thighs, and I’m not sure my dick will ever be satisfied with anyone else. It’s all I can think about right now, which is a little out of character for me. I’m a grown ass man, sitting across from her in a coffee shop, and my dick is half-hard.
She tries to hide her blush. “Well… since we’re both safe.”
“Since we’re both safe…” I repeat, staring at her lip as she drags her teeth across it.
“Wait—” she shakes her head. “Did you just say you got a vasectomy?”
“It’s reversible,” I shrug, taking a sip of my coffee. “And it’s safe. Female birth control—depending on the type—can have several side effects. If you’re looking at the safest option for both people, a vasectomy’s usually it.” I’ve had this conversation more than once since I got it, and it still surprises me how low the bar is.
She stares at me, open-mouthed. I’m used to this reaction, though it never stops making me a little uncomfortable. Maybe I’m more well-informed, given my profession. Though even men in my field still shift most of the responsibility to the women they sleep with, unwilling to do anything that might cause a potential moment of discomfort unto themselves.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I groan and push back from the table. She follows me outside, and whatever tension she’d walked in with has lifted.
“You’re a unicorn,” she gasps. “Can I have your autograph?”
“Alright, lunatic, get in the car.” I can’t keep the smile off my face.
She throws her head back and laughs, and it’s the greatest sound. The rain has let up some, but the wind is still pretty intense. We get back on the road, and unlike the last half-hour, the drive passes with ease.
We talk about stupid things. Little things. Anything and everything. It’s so fucking easy. Things feel right-side-up between us, like it was always supposed to be this way.
Rose tells me she’s never been further south than DC—a middle school trip with her mom—and when I ask about her mom, she opens up. How she was a great cook and her house always smelled of garlic. She had a loud voice, and even whenshe was yelling about something stupid, like a messy room, it filled the house. “You always knew where you stood with her,” Rose says, then giggles. “It used to be so embarrassing, though. She wasn’t subtle—like, at all. Four-foot-ten with the octave range of a banshee.” I laugh, and she keeps going, sharing other anecdotes.
Pearl never talked much about her, except in high school, when she’d describe how hard life at home was. How this woman, Inês, seduced her father and stole all his attention. I remember feeling so bad for Pearl.
