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"What’s that?"
"Relax, Fire, I promise you’re going to enjoy this."
"That’s what you said when you fucked me in the arse… For our very first time together."
He reaches the bed then glares down at me. "Did it hurt?
"What do you think?" I scowl.
"That you screamed my name as you came so hard that you could barely move afterward. And now, you’re embarrassed about it."
"I’m not embarrassed about anything."
"Then why is your face so red?"
"It’s not—" I firm my lips. "Fine, I didn’t expect to enjoy it so much. Also, I definitely didn’t think that the first time we fucked you’d enter the wrong way."
He chuckles. "That’s a quaint way of referring to anal."
"I believe in social, political and economic equality of the genders; doesn’t mean I’m not well-mannered," I say primly.
"Seems to me you also believe in the anal quality of pleasure."
I laugh. I can’t help it. Here I am, trying to make him feel guilty for jumping right into having anal with me. I’ve never allowed any of my partners to take that liberty with me. Not even my longest relationship, which lasted all of three months. And Hunter here, hunted me down and boldly went where no one had dared to before.
"Hold on a second." He scrutinizes my features. "Was that your first time?"
My cheeks heat. "What? Don’t be ridiculous."
"It was your first time with anal."
My face is so hot now, I’m sure there are flames leaping up from it. "Can we stop this discussion?"
"Is it because four letter words are an issue for you?" he asks slowly.
"Fuck, no." I tilt up my chin. "But I do have an issue with your having opened your innings with anal."
"Not to worry, baby. I’m a believer in marathons and five-day long cricket matches." He places a knee on the bed.
"Personally, I prefer working in short quick bursts.” I choke out.
"And I prefer to keep my stamina, when it comes to both the campaign trail and my sexual performance."
"Did you just compare politics to sex?" I gasp.
"There’s a similar high when you win over a particularly stubborn opponent in both, wouldn’t you say?"
I widen my gaze. "And now you’re comparing me to a political rival?"
"You’re, by far, the most beautiful, most vital, most intelligent adversary I’ve ever taken on."
"So, we’ve covered cricket, politics, and sex in the space of a few sentences." Three things I am passionate about. "That’s a—"
"First," he says at the same time as me.
The air between us thickens and swirls with unsaid words. The kind you don’t dare blurt out for fear of where they might lead. And yet, you also can’t ignore it. When was the last time my pillow talk with a man covered such a large spectrum of interests?
"I don’t know of many women who’re familiar with cricketing analogies," he says as if he’s read my mind. And it’s no surprise I am. Cricket is the one game that we watched as a family when I was growing up. It’s the one time my father allowed my brother and me to slack off our studies—when there was a cricket match on the TV. Also, my brother now plays cricket for England, something I don’t publicize much.
