“You never... No one has ever touched you? Here?”
“No. That’s just for you.”
“For us. So.” Artie rests his head above mine, eyes closing when I knead my way down his back, making him arch into me, too, so that I can almost imagine what it would be like when he’s inside of me. “So, the first time can hurt. That’s what people say. That’s why wetter is better. I don’t want to hurt you, so we could just do this tonight. The rubbing and kissing.”
I nod, relieved that I’m not failing his expectations, but also sad. Because part of me knows it’s going to feel wonderful when he’s in me. That this is how humans connect on the deepest physical level—how beings that are half-human, half-monster connect, too, it seems. “If it hurts, I’ll ask you to stop.”
“But if I hurt you, that might mean you won’t—”
“Hey. I’m not going to stop feeling this way about you,” I whisper. “There’s a big difference between people hurting me on purpose and someone loving me and my body not being experienced.”
“You’re the best. But there’s another reason, too. Babies.”
“I’ll be quiet,” I promise, and hope I’m right. The book I was reading made it seem like sex was loud and full of a lot of swearing. “I don’t think I’ll wake Laurel.”
“No. We could... We could have another baby. I think.”
My mind fast forwards. It’s the same sick, dizzy, wonderful sensation of a plane taxiing down the runway and finally hitting the air. A baby of our own.
No, that’s Laurel. But a sibling for Laurel. Someone like her. A chance for her to never be alone. Maybe a little boy. A chancefor Artie to have a son, a boy to raise into a man who will love and protect people.
“I want those things, but not yet,” I say, tongue sticking to my teeth as my mouth goes dry.
“You do? I mean, so do I! That’s great news, but I’m not ready for two babies either. One is keeping us busy. We’ll have to get some protection at the store.”
“But just touching doesn’t...?”
Artie’s lips find mine, then my right breast, then my left. His fingers find and massage the hard spot between my legs that feels the best.
I know names of parts, or at least I think I do, since I’ve never had anyone to tell me if I’m correct, and for a second, I’m furious that I was forced to be my own teacher 90% of the time, that books were my instructors, and that I had no one to discuss the material with.
Mostly, though, I’m happy that I kept going. That I didn’t break, even though I now understand that’s what Barton ultimately wanted. Happy because I can ask Artie. That he can explain, that he will explain, with love.
“Ah. Ahh!” My gasps build.
“Good?”
“Yes!” I whimper and lock my leg over his. My hands tear at his shirt—literally tearing, by the way, because I guess my monstrous strength comes out when I least expect it. “Oh, no!”
“I get one of these every year, don’t worry about the old shirt,” Artie grunts, mouth on my neck, sucking and nibbling. His hand moves harder and faster. “Tell me when.”
I’m not sure when, or even what—and then it happens. The building gasps and building pleasure crest as one, and my thighs shake around his hand.
“Did you come?” Artie asks when I go quiet and still, and hold his wrist with nerveless fingers.
“Does it feel like the best thing ever, and you want more, but you also have no muscles left?” I ask.
“Yes. Just like that.”
“Then I came.”
SHE CAME. SHE SLEPT. I came—in the bathroom across the hall, so I wouldn’t disturb her. But then I crawled back into bed and curled around her. My Imogene. My love. Her skin is warm against mine, and she clings to me in her sleep.
I think I’ll wake her up with breakfast in bed, and maybe a round two...
EAR-SPLITTING WAILScatapult Imogene and me out of bed. I don’t know if it’s day or night, but a topless Imogene is racing for the crib in Laurel’s room, while I’m close behind.
“Oh, God. She’s hot! Like burning up!” Imogene cries, picking Laurel up and pressing her hand to her cheek.
