“You were a virgin,” he mutters, but more to himself than to me.
“Cyrus? What’s wrong?”
“How old are you?” he asks, bringing his gaze back to my face. I can’t read what he’s thinking, but I think it might be… fear.”
“Uh…twenty… seven.”
“Twenty-seven,” he repeats. “You’re twenty-seven.”
“Cyrus, what is going on?” I ask, grabbing the coverlet off the bed that’s wadded up around me and flipping it over to hide my body from him. I’m feeling too raw, too exposed and my lover from moments before is gone. In his place is a stranger, that has me feeling self-conscious and is quickly cooling the desire from my body.
“How is it possible that you are a virgin at twenty-seven?” he asks, but I get the feeling his question is not directed at me.
“Cyrus—”
“Do you not like sex?” he asks, and my eyes dilate, and I gasp.
“Shit, okay that was a stupid question. Of course, you like sex you were a wanton little minx on my face,” he discounts, making me cry out. “Don’t worry, Bebé, that’s how I like my women.”
“What?” I croak.
“Not that you’re one of my women—”
“I think I should go,” I mutter, suddenly sick to my stomach.
“Or that I have women. I mean I have had women, but—”
“Cyrus, can you stop talking before you make this worse?” I beg, clinging to the cover as I move around trying to find my clothes. Before I can make it to my pants, I cry out as Cyrus wraps his arm around my stomach and hauls me back to the bed.
“I’m making a mess of this, Bebé, and that’s not my intention. I am just understandably surprised. I didn’t know there were virgins left, let alone one as old as you.”
“I’m not old!”
“Well, no, but you are for a virgin,” he explains, mostly making everything worse. I push against his arm, wanting free.
“Let me go,” I demand.
“No, mi corazón, I fear I’m making a mess of this—”
“Because you are. You took the single most great night of my life and—” He stops my tirade, by capturing my mouth in a kiss. I taste the remnant of my orgasm on him and though it should turn me off, it doesn’t. Soon, Cyrus’s tongue is overtaking my mouth, leading me back to the mindless haze that always comes when he touches me. He’s my kryptonite, I can’t think of anything but him when he’s touching me.
“I’m sorry, Carol. I’m an idiot, what you gave me was wonderful and I love that I’m the only man that has received that from you.”
“I don’t understand,” I exhale.
“It just through me for a loop. You stay warm in our bed. I’m going to run out—”
“I can just leave, Cyrus,” I breathe, deflating yet again, my head dropping down. His finger comes under my chin and he applies pressure until I’m forced to bring my gaze back to him. “I’ll—” He presses his lips gently against mine, a brief touch and then pulls back.
“I’m going to run into town and get some condoms because I think as a virgin you aren’t on the pill,” he says and I swallow, because I’m not. I shake my head no. “And I don’t have condoms because I just got here and a hurricane named Carol was the last thing I thought I would encounter,” he says, but his eyes don’t meet mine as he talks.
“Okay,” I murmur, mostly wanting him to go at this point. I need time to think all of this through. I don’t understand how something so beautiful, erotic and sexy could have gone so bad so quickly.
“Okay,” he agrees, and he kisses me again. I take his kiss, and I try to still the doubts in my mind, but I’m not sure I’m entirely successful. I lay there and watch him as he dresses quickly and tells me he’ll be back soon. I remain lying there until I hear the front door close—and then I get up and get dressed. I walk like a zombie over to my place and instead of going inside to shower, I go to my car. I drive on auto pilot, knowing I need to go to my sister’s. Cyrus won’t come after me there. He’ll feel compelled to if I go to my house, but not if I’m at Krissy’s.
I’ll get a neighbor to check on Abominable. I just really need some time away from Cyrus to think.CyrusA virgin.
A twenty-seven-year-old virgin.
Cristo! How does that even happen? I wouldn’t have thought there were any virgins left in this world past sixteen and even that age would have made it iffy. I reacted like a damn fool. I left her in my bed—or at least the bed that’s mine for now—alone, naked, confused and maybe even hurt. I ran out, telling her I needed to go for birth control, when I had a couple of condoms in my wallet. They’re old, but they would have worked—or I could have taught her to give us both pleasure without taking her body.