Page 35 of Ride with the Devil

Luca jumps up from his seat, dashing over to the refrigerator. “Oh. I almost forgot. Look what got delivered today.” He reaches in, pulling out something long and slender and green.

I nearly choke on my laugh. “My cucumber!”

I’ve been asking him for, like, three days now for one. And while I know it’s December, and an unusually snowy one at that, so it’s not like they’re in season, but I really, really wanted one, and now it’s here.

I swallow my giggle. Yes!

He seems pleased at my happy reaction. “The delivery guy only brought one, even though I tried to order a couple. You wanted it so badly, I figured it’s one of your favorite things to snack on.”

Snack on?

Oh, Luca, no.

“You sweet summer child,” I tease, walking over to the sink so that I can wash the cucumber. “I’m not gonnaeatthis.”

“You’re not.”

“Nope.”

The extra pop on the ‘p’ is so much fun!

His forehead furrows. “If you’re not going to eat it, what are you going to do with it?”

I stroke the side of the slightly bump peel with a paper towel, drying it off, then toss the used towel before grinning over at him.

“I’m going to fuck it,” I say, rapping the good-sized cucumber against my palm. “Unless you’d rather take its place.”

I don’t know what shocks him more: how open I am about my intent to masturbate with the cucumber, or that I once again propositioned him to join me downstairs.

Turns out, it’s most likely the second one because he suddenly blurts out nervously, “I can’t.”

I look at the cucumber. I pointedly look at his junk. I can’t see what he’s packing, but I’m not a size queen. I can take this cuke. Whether he’s big or small, thick or as narrow as a carrot, I don’t care. It’s the motion of the ocean, right? So long as he knows how to use what he has, I’m down.

“I’m sure you can.”

He shakes his head. “No. You don’t understand.”

I don’t think I do. “Is it me? You just don’t want to fuck me? If it’s because I’m your captive, don’t worry about it. I’m not doing this because I’m stuck here. Well, no. Iamdoing that because I’m stuck here and I’m bored. Sorry if that hurts your ego… I still think you’re pretty hot, Luca… but I find the best way to fight boredom is a couple of orgasms. So what do you say?”

He licks his bottom lip. “It’s not you. I mean, you’re gorgeous?—”

“Thank you.”

“And you didn’t offend me. I figured you were only offering because no one else is here.”

True.

“But I can’t.”

I should drop it. And maybe it’s because I’m taking this as a blow tomyego, but I have to ask one more time: “So why not?”

“Because I don’t do that. It’s… I’m saving myself for marriage,” he mumbles.

He’swhat?

I’m confused. I shouldn’t be. Sex is a personal choice, and if he wants to have it or not—if he wants to have it withmeor not—I can respect that. Some people are ready at fifteen. I was seventeen the first time. I know others who waited until they were in college, or freshly graduated.

Some of my old friends just weren’t interested. Others have high body counts, and you know what? Good for them. I never did keep, like, a log or anything, but I’m up there. I have casual sex. I have meaningful sex. One-night-stands. Even quickies in a dingy bar bathroom so long as the guy has a condom. I’m very open with my sexuality.

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