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‘Every girl I’ve done it with seemed to love it, and I’ve done it with a lot of girls.’
I don’t want to hear how many girls he’s had sex with and how they loved it. I’m just one of them now, a number on a list of many.
'What if I pick something up?'
'Like an STD?'
I nod.
'I get tested every year.'
I bite my lip. ‘Can I ask you something?’
He makes a frustrated noise. ‘Can’t it wait?’
‘Am I the best you’ve had?’ It seems stupid to ask, and I almost don’t want to know the answer.
He looks like he wants to laugh. ‘Definitely not. But you’re new, so you’ll get better. I’ve never had a virgin before,’ he adds, and I feel him grow hard. His gaze travels to my chest before it flicks back to my face. ‘Only I’ve had you. You belong to me. Only I know how you gasp when I do this.’ He sucks my neck, and my breath catches. ‘And this.’ His teeth graze my nipple, and I arch against him. ‘And this.’ His hand trails up beneath my skirt and rubs me through my panties, and my toes curl.
Archer rises up to remove his jeans. I open my legs and watch him through them. He strokes himself, and his cock is solid and pulsing, the tip already gleaming.
I feel myself soak and throb for him.
He tears off my panties and leans down—but as he does, I seize his shirt in a fist and pull him down, pushing his lips against mine.
Our mouths brush before he manages to wrench back.
‘What thefuck, Frankie?’ His chest rises and falls heavily. ‘Don’t do that. Don’teverdo that.’
I push up onto my elbows. ‘Why not? You kissed Cassie.’
‘Because…’ He runs a hand over his face. ‘That was different. It was a game. It didn’t mean anything.’
‘What did she mean when she saidYou don’t kiss?’
He stares at me for a long moment, and I can’t help but think of how he looked that night on my porch, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed from the rain.
‘Sex is different,’ he says at last. ‘It’s just two people giving each other pleasure. But kissing? Kissing is… intimate. I don’t kiss because doing so would cross a line I’m not ready for.’
His words sink into me like lead. ‘You mean you don’t want a relationship.’
His eyes narrow. ‘Is that what you thought this was?’
I look away from him. He can’t see me cry again. He’ll just shout at me for being ridiculous.
The bed shifts as he hovers over me. ‘Frankie,’ he says. His voice is surprisingly gentle. ‘Look at me, Frankie. Please.’
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say that. I meet his gaze.
‘Is that what you thought this was?’ he repeats.
‘No,’ I whisper. ‘I mean…. I thought it was more than friendship, for obvious reasons.’
‘I’ve never said it was more than just fucking.’
‘If I knew that, I wouldn’t have given you my virginity.’
But he’s right: he’s never given the impression of something more. Even from the first moment when he followed me into the bathroom, he said he wanted to fuck me. There’s never been any pleasantries between us. There’s never been passion; only the hot and brief flashes of desire. The quickness and fleeting moments of an affair.
