Thrice was already plenty impressive.
He hadn’t come inside me any of those times. He was making good on his previous promise to coat me in his cum. I wasn’t complaining.
The act of him doingthaton my skin, in theory, should’ve been derogatory. But it didn’t feel like that with Beau. It felt deliciously sordid and empowering. And a shameful part of me loved that Beau was covering me, claiming me in such a carnal way.
“We didn’t,” Beau agreed to my earlier statement about protection.
Of course he wasn’t concerned. He was a man.
“And you’re not worried about that?” My question came out sharper than I intended, loaded with all the weight I carried from being a woman used by men.
I didn’t think Beau was like that. I prayed he wasn’t.
He propped himself up on his elbow, the light from the bathroom casting him in a subtle glow.
“Areyouworried about that?” He explored my face.
I chewed my lip, wondering if I should lie to sound better. “No.” I decided to answer honestly. “I have the copper implant.” Prior to that, I’d been on the pill. Except I’d caught Waylon emptying the pills into the toilet one evening, smiling, telling me “he wanted a family.”
That was before the worst of the abuse started, but even then, I’d felt sick at the mere thought of bringing a child into the world. His child.
I hadn’t argued because I’d been clutched with hope that our story might turn into a good one. And because, in my heart of hearts, I knew it was a dangerous subject to argue about.
Waylon thought the gesture of emptying my pills was romantic. It felt suffocating. Like he was stealing my choices, especially while living in a state that did not provide other options for women who found themselves pregnant with a baby they might not want. A baby that might not be safe for them to have.
Even then, I knew the statistics around pregnant women being 35 percent more likely to be killed than when they weren’t pregnant.
I’d done my research that night after he’d gone to sleep then made an appointment to get the implant. Waylon didn’t know.
In the end, he’d thought I was “barren.” He had made noises about going to doctors, doing IVF, but I knew he’d never make good on those promises. For once, being poor protected me.
I’d had the implant even after we’d divorced, not thinking too much about it.
Until now.
“I also don’t have any STIs,” I informed Beau. Not sexy or romantic, but very sensible.
I’d been tested after I broke up with Waylon and had been horrified to find out I had chlamydia. Waylon had been my first and only.
Which meant he’d not only been abusing me but cheating on me too. After I was treated, I never slept with a man again. I felt desire, I wanted to date, wanted to be able to engage in a pleasurable act. But I’d been too afraid of men, terrified I’d pick someone like Waylon. Or worse. I’d picked abstinence instead.
Not things I deigned to tell Beau at that moment in time.
That would well and truly kill the mood.
“I didn’t think you did.” Beau traced my collarbone with his finger. “And I don’t either.” He chuckled dryly. “You have to have sex to get those, and I haven’t had sex in a long time. And the last time I did, I used protection.” He cupped my cheek. “Taking you raw was not something I did lightly. And I’m sorry for not asking for your permission.”
“You had my permission,” I quickly told him, shocked at how easily the apology came to him. How genuine it was. “I’m a grown woman. I feel safe with you. If I wanted you to use protection, I would’ve asked for it.”
I was telling the truth. Even though I’d been somewhat of a mess by the time we were naked and about to have sex, I had thought about a condom for a split second. I’d known for sure that if I’d asked, Beau wouldn’t balk. He wouldn’t have made me feel guilty either.
I also knew Beau was noble. Sensible. So if he had any chance of giving me anything, he wouldn’t dream of having unprotected sex.
That might’ve been naïve given my past, to trust another man. But I didn’t care. I trusted Beau.
“I know,” Beau murmured.
“But you didn’t know I was on birth control,” I countered, my mind clearing.
