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Chapter 12
BRIDGET
Past
Iwake up in the middle of the night and remember the food never got put away, but Darren tells me to forget it and promptly pulls me back into bed. Within minutes, we’re at it again, this time in a spooning position, which I’ve never done before. I love it because he strokes my clit while he bucks his hips into my backside.
He doesn’t thrust into me as hard as last time, possibly because he doesn’t have the same leverage lying on his side. I’m starting to feel a little raw from all the sex, but the orgasms are so worth it. Even as a horny teenager, I haven’t been turned on like this. And even the quasi-BDSM elements are titillating. I didn’t think they would be. The “sir” part of it isn’t my favorite. Like there isn’t enough misogyny and inequity between the sexes outside the bedroom.
But for now, I’ll humor him. Because deep down, I don’t think he’s a chauvinist, though I don’t have any proof of that fact. Does being into the power play of BDSM automatically make him a chauvinist? Maybe. I really don’t know enough about BDSM to say. If he confines the playing to the bedroom, then maybe not. So a male dominant, female submissive thing in BDSM isn’t automatically rooted in chauvinism. It depends on the individual.
This is the kind of discussion I can see happening in a college seminar. I tell my brain to shut up so I can drift back to sleep in Darren’s arms. He pulls a bedsheet over our lower bodies, and I tell myself not to get too caught up in all the feel-good hormones that have flooded me. It’s too easy to fall in love with how great it feels to have the heat of his body embracing mine. I feel like Amy’s fallen hard for JD, slacking off on school and her job as a waitress at a high-end restaurant. I don’t want that to be me.
And somehow I’ve agreed to go to Phuket.
Crap.
Well, he can’t hold me to it if I my supervisor’s not okay with it.
“Something on your mind?” Darren asks.
Sunlight peaks in from between the blinds. I realize I’ve been staring up at the ceiling since waking.
“Thinking about Phuket,” I reply. I turn to face him. “What would you do if you were in my position?”
He’s lying on his back and puts a hand behind his head. “What do you mean?”
“Like, would you have lied and called in sick?”
“I’d just go.”
“Yeah, but, let’s say you really liked your internship and your supervisor isn’t keen on you going. Would you lie then?”
“Maybe.”
I already had a feeling he wasn’t an angelic Boy Scout, but I’m a little concerned how far off he is. I remember him saying he didn’t have a moral compass, but I thought he was just being facetious. “So you don’t have a problem with lying?”
He glances briefly at me. “Depends on the situation.”
“Like calling in sick to work when you’re not sick.”
“If I wanted to go to Phuket more than I wanted the job, then I’d go to Phuket.”
“But that’s not the hypothetical. The hypothetical is that you want the job more than you want Phuket.”
“Fine. If lying means I get to keep my job and go to Phuket, then I’d lie.”
I wrinkle my nose. It’s not the answer I would have preferred to hear from him. “Your guilty conscience would let you do that?”
He gives a wry laugh. “Who says I’d have a guilty conscience?”
“Would you ever have a problem with lying?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Everyone lies. Unless you’re some saint. Even then, I bet there’s a lie in that history somewhere.”
“There are degrees to lying.”
“What’s the biggest lie you ever told?”
