The orgasm took me by surprise, one brutal clench of my core followed by a rolling wave of sensation that started small and didn't stop until I was sprawled out on Ash's chest, gasping and shuddering and shivering from the force of it.
Though I hadn't caught the particulars, I remembered Ash squeezing my ass and chanting my name as he came. He hadn't said anything since, only folding me into his arms, smoothing back my hair, kissing my forehead. He held me tight for a long time and that was when I heard the words gathering in my mind.
I could love him.
I mightalreadylove him.
I wanted to press my face to his neck and deliver him these confessions and then I wanted him to return those confessions to me. I wanted him to know he was wrecking and ruining me because he knew down to the decimal what I needed and now I was a wrecked, ruined mess of woman who only wanted more, all of it, everything.
"I don't believe you're disappointed now," he said, his voice hoarse.
"How did you know I needed it just like that?" I asked.
He ran his fingertips between my shoulder blades as he said, "Because I know you. I don't have to think. I touch you and I know."
I blinked up at him, wondering if he also knew he'd ruined me.
22
Zelda
One thingyou probably didn't want to know about me was the hellacious nature of my premenstrual syndrome. You could set a watch by that bitch. Without fail, ten days before my cycle was due to restart, an eighteen-wheeler of symptoms backed right over me.
There was the infamous duo of cramps and moods, and I always had a day or two of exhaustion before it was on to headaches and hunger, chills and digestive wonkiness, and loose clothes on account of the bloated belly and milkmaid boobs.
Oh, and the horny thing. That part wasextreme.
At this point in my reproductive life, I was well acquainted with the way my body worked and I knew how to manage through. It was an inconvenience, for sure, but I knew enough tricks to keep going.
Except when everything hit at once. It was only on special months when those symptoms converged on the same day rather than ambling out over several.
That was why Ash found me draped over the printer on Thursday afternoon like I was washing ashore after a shipwreck. In truth, he first passed without looking up from his phone but then jogged backward, asking, "What's happening here?"
Still flopped over the machine, I said, "It's warm. Like a heating pad."
He reached out to settle his hand on my back but changed his mind at the last minute, shoving it in his pocket instead. "Are…are you all right?"
"Yep." The machine's heat offered such glorious relief. "Just taking a minute."
"With the printer?"
"Yep."
Finally, he brought that hand to the small of my back and I almost cried with joy because the light pressure he offered was perfect. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"
"Because I'm all good. Promise." I pushed off the machine and forced my shoulders back. What I wouldn't do for a big, slouchy sweater right now. Something fuzzy and gray and shapeless. The best slouchy sweaters were always gray. "Did you need me to get something from the records room? You were headed that way."
He tucked my hair over my ear, frowning. "Stop lying to me. You look pale and you're hugging the hardware. No part of that qualifies as 'all good.'"
As I didn't have the energy to shelter Ash from the reality of women's bodies and their assorted functions, even if I didn't know how to forge this territory with him. I made a vague gesture toward my abdomen, saying, "It's just some cramps. They'll pass."
There were seven seconds of total, blank confusion in Ash's eyes before he understood my meaning. Seven. Then he nodded to himself and consulted his watch. "Let's head out for the day. We'll get something delivered. What would you like?"
I pointed toward his office. "You need to finish the—"
"I did," he interrupted. "I printed the last draft to give it a final read tonight." He reached into the output tray and held up the papers as proof. "What do you want, love? Please tell me."
I stared at my shoes because I didn't know how to do this. How to share this part of myself with someone else though it wasn't a matter of shame. Rather, I'd always handled it on my own. I'd managed through my first period by myself and all the ones that followed. I'd escorted myself to the gynecologist when I was seventeen and managed my birth control choices without the guidance or support of anyone but my doctor.
