Page 38 of Fumble

“But… shit, Faith! How were you even able to touch it, never mind grind all over me? Didn’t it hurt?” She pushes herself up onto her elbows, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“It was totally worth it.” Her lack of chagrin is endearing, a breath of fresh air.

“We need to talk.”

“Ugh. Can’t you just accept a great blow job or even a hand job? I’m good at it.”

“I bet you are.” A pang of something pulls at my gut—jealousy.

“I know I’m pissing you off trying to keep you at arm’s length. I don’t mean to give you so many mixed signals. It’s exhausting.”

“Then, why are you?” I pull her bags toward us.

“You have to put on a shirt. I can’t concentrate with your breasts teasing me. My cock is confused because all I want to do is kiss, nip, and knead every inch.” She reluctantly rifles through her clothes, grabbing what I’m sure is the skimpiest t-shirt she can find.

Deep breaths.

“Okay, I’ve covered the offending twins. Now talk.” She moves closer, reaching out to comfort me in some small way. Drawing lazy circles on my hand with her fingers, she looks at me with her long fluttering lashes, an air of consternation in her gaze.

“I can only ask you this one more time. So, I’m begging you to really think about it before you answer. If I’m going to hell for defiling you, I need to know why. Why me? Why now? What’s so terrible to you about waiting to lose your virginity? You talk about it like it’s something to be ashamed of when it’s the opposite. Do you know how many men would love to find the woman of their dreams and have it turn out that no other man had been lucky enough to share what’s his? Why waste it on me?”

“This was supposed to be fun. You watched me fall directly onto my cooter for God’s sake. It’s not exactly the art of seduction over here. Why do you need an explanation?”

“Because I need to know that I’m not about to ruin this for you. I don’t want to be your biggest regret, Faith. It would kill me to think that you could look back a year from now when you meet a guy who deserves you and wish you’d never gone down this road with me.” I hate how she affects me with this gnawing dread that’s taken up residence in my stomach.

I don’t want to talk about feelings. I never have. I want to fuck. I want to bury myself so deep in a woman that I can lose myself if only for a few hours. Being Hunter Vaughn isn’t always as great as it seems from the outside looking in. I love everything about the game, but the fame, it gets tiring. My mistakes are as well documented as my triumphs. And I’ve made a lot of bad decisions over the years. Cry me a river, I know, but sometimes I crave obscurity again. Normalcy.

“Okay, I need you not to look at me while I blurt this out with all the grace of an orangutan on roller skates.” I can’t help but laugh.

“Your eloquence is unparalleled. You know that, right?”

“Shut up and stop looking at me.”

“You can’t be serious? Half an hour ago, you were naked in my lap.”

“And now I want you to do this for me. I earned it! You got to see me come. Now either look away or close your eyes.” It’s too weird to turn my back to her, so I guess I’ll just have to shut my eyes.

Silence stretches out in the darkness, but her body radiates apprehension.

“Okay. They’re closed. Talk to me. Help me understand you.” Reaching out, I take her hands in mine to calm her nerves. Or maybe, to calm mine.

“Ugh. Flicking the bean for you was easier than this.” She takes a deep breath. “My folks meant well. They tried to teach me right from wrong, raise me with a strong sense of values, but…”

It takes everything inside me to keep my eyes closed, my stomach in knots for whatever comes next.

“It’s too much. The expectation. Their standards are too high. No one can live up to such lofty ideals. Do you know what it’s like to grow up being scolded for wearing something provocative? And to them, that was a tank top. What it’s like to be told you would bring shame on your family if you ever came home pregnant out of wedlock? To feel so terrified by the urges that most teenagers take for granted? I became paralyzed by fear. There’s no switch. When you reach adulthood and go off to college, you can’t just forget. I couldn’t forget.”

“Faith…”

“Don’t speak. Just listen.” I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss in the center of her palm.

“I’m listening.”

“By the time I got to high school, I was known as that girl. The one you’re never going to get past first base with. My dad is a legend in our town. Everyone knew what he thought was right and wrong, and what his expectations for any prospective boyfriends would be. We were held up as some inspirational family at our local church. A perfect little family. It didn’t seem to bother my siblings. But me? School wasn’t exactly the greatest experience of my life. My nickname was Frigid Faith. If there was a more awkward teenager, I didn’t meet them.”

“Kids are assholes.”

“As time went on, crushes came and went, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I thought it would be different in college, but when you’ve been brainwashed to believe that everything about sex is bad… dirty… wrong, it’s not that easy to let those feelings go. It became easier to shut out my desires rather than deal with the constant guilt about even contemplating sex before marriage. It’s crippling. I don’t want to feel like this anymore—guilty about every orgasm, self-inflicted or not. It’s like walking around with an anvil on your chest. I’m being crushed by it, and this… you… I want this for me, not as some consolation prize or to be a rebel. You make me feel beautiful, sexy, and most of all… when I came for you just now, I felt free. No guilt. No shame. It’s the first time I’ve let myself experience desire and pleasure without restriction. Is that so wrong? Is it enough for you?”

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