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I gritted my teeth. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you kissed that time when you were sixteen, remember?”
How could I forget?And now I could add tingly memories of those sanity-hijacking full lips roaming my breasts and beyond.
“His father died.” I sighed. “He came to the Mariner and cried on my shoulder.”
“Oh. That’s so sad about his dad. He seemed like a nice man.” She pulled a sad smile. “So you gave him a shoulder to cry on and then fucked?”
I flinched at her abridged version, which made me sound like one of those mothering types who milked up around needy men.
I gulped back my tea. “I’ve never seen him like that, to be honest. That shallow Casanova version was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was down to earth. He even recognised Nick Drake, for heaven’s sake.”
“Right…” Her eyebrows knitted. “So, you’re telling me you jumped his bones because he liked Nick Drake? Or because he was sad? Or because the guy is fucking hot?” Her voice kept going up in pitch until she stated the bleeding obvious.
“We were only meant to sleep in the same bed so that he didn’t have to be alone, but then…” A guilty smirk took over my mouth.
“And then you had shameless, dirty sex.”
I splayed my hands. “It just happened. I can’t even remember who initiated it, to be honest.” A big smile grew on my face as I revisited Ethan spooning me.
“You make it sound like you played a game of chess. Was he a bad shag or something?”
My head moved continuously from side to side, like one of those wide-mouthed clowns at amusement parks. “No way. The absolute opposite. He was the shag of the century. Ineveryway possible.”
“Oh. He made you come?” Her face lit up with excitement as though she’d screamed through an orgasm herself.
“He did. I’ve…” A streak of heat flushed my cheeks. This was an embarrassing subject suddenly. “I’ve never orgasmed while penetrated before.”
She looked at me as if I’d admitted to stuffing rats as a pastime.
“Okay. So I’m weird. I know.”
“No, you’re not,” she sang. “I’ve never come with a dick before.”
Now it was my turn to look at her strangely. “Really?”
“Hello, it’s all about the clit.”
I thought of Ethan’s tongue and how he’d demanded I straddle his head after mutual animal attraction did away with formalities. That was the morning after.
“I sat on his face,” I admitted, squirming.
Her jaw dropped, and a smile formed at the same time. She rose.
“Where are you going?” I needed her to sit and talk this out, especially now that I’d opened up about a night and morning that still had my raging ovaries partying at a non-stop bender.
“This calls for wine,” she said.
I looked at the large clock on the mantle. “But it’s only one thirty in the afternoon.”
“You don’t have to have one. I need it. The hair of the dog.”
She settled down with a glass of red wine in her hands. “Okay. So you sat on his face. Oh my god. How cool is that? I’m jealous.”
“You are?”She should be.
“I can’t even get Bret to go down on me. We have to use a fucking vibrator.” Her mouth turned down. “Anyway, enough of my dull sex life. Tell me more. So you sat on his face, and he fucked you with his tongue?”
