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“I just do.”
“Do you do it?”
“Yeah. Every guy does it. And most girls, I would think.”
My jaw drops. I honestly didn’t know.
“Masturbation isn’t wrong,” he says softly. “It’s natural. Orgasms release endorphins, and they feel good. Jesus. How do you cope when you feel…”
“Feel what?”
“Horny?” he asks, with a touch of amusement.
“I go for a run,” I reply.
He gives me a pained look. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
I bite my lip, but I’m unable to stop the laughter rising. He joins in, and it takes a whole thirty seconds before we’re finally able to stop.
“It’s not funny,” he admits. “I’m so sorry.”
I shrug, my smile fading. “Like you said, if I didn’t laugh, I’d cry.”
“You’ve never watched porn?” he asks.
“No.”
“Your parents never talked to you about this kind of thing?”
“Mum told me girls shouldn’t think about sex.”
“Fuck me. That explains a lot.”
“She moved away when I was twelve. Dad explained how babies were made and about periods. But not about sex.”
“And Gaby? She’s never discussed it with you?”
“God, no. I love her dearly, but we’ve never had that kind of relationship.”
I can see he’s not considered that not all siblings are close like he is with his brothers. “And don’t ask me if I’ve ever spoken to Alex about it,” I add. “Because I think you know the answer to that.”
“What about your friends? I thought girls talked about sex and exchanged experiences.”
“Not my friends. Not in detail, anyway.”
He seems completely flummoxed. “You’ve never been interested in reading about sex?” he asks. “Finding out about it?”
“Honestly? I’ve not thought about it much. When I was younger, I thought it would just… happen. And when I did start having sex, I assumed my experience was the same as everyone else’s. It’s only since I met Jo that I’ve begun to realize that’s not true.”
“I honestly don’t know what to say,” he admits. “Sex is a big part of my life, and I can’t imagine it being any other way.”
“Well, maybe you can understand why I was so shocked at your Brat Kink comment.”
“I’m sorry about that. I feel as if I’ve gone into a Year Seven classroom and started readingFifty Shadesto the kids.”
I inhale with indignation. “I’m twenty-one,” I remind him hotly. “I’m not a kid.”
“I know.”
