Chapter 31
I've never been one for fights. That's why I don't think I'd ever really offended anyone before. When Lucas left through the door, I felt awful. Really awful. The second the door clicked shut in the room, regret hit me hard in the chest, like someone flipped a switch and turned off the horniness all at once. I lay there naked, staring at the ceiling, feeling the wetness slowly dripping down my thighs, my body still hot from the orgasm, but my head cold, heavy, full of guilt. I'd been cruel. Unnecessarily cruel. And the worst part: I knew I'd done it on purpose. That feeling of power—of being in charge, of humiliating him, of being the one who decides—got so intense that I lost control. And now he'd gone off with that look like he'd been punched in the gut and still smiled to play it off.
I was scared he'd want revenge. That he'd go blabbing at school, tell his friends—if he even had any—and I'd become the butt of everyone's jokes. But the truth is, he wouldn't have anyone to tell. He was too boring. People didn't like him much. He talked too loud about a girlfriend nobody ever saw. I didn't want to spill it now, to spoil it, but days later I'd find out from the gossip running through the halls: the so-called girlfriend didn't even exist. It was all made up. A shield to hide the huge complex he had about his small dick.
And I'd just made it worse. I'd stuck my finger in the wound and twisted it.
When he left, I got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water came down hard, running over my skin, washing away the sweat. I tried to masturbate with my little finger from behind—just to see what it was like, just to feel that new pressure again that had made me cum so hard—but I couldn't. There was no good position in the shower stall, the finger kept slipping, it was a bit sore, the skin too sensitive after his finger. The idea wouldn't leave my head—the ass clenching, the small dick rubbing without going deep, the pleasure coming from two places at once. But alone, it didn't work. I needed him, or someone, or something. I finished the shower, tidied the room quick—sheets changed, clothes on the floor folded—and texted Val.
I wanted a friend test. To tell her everything with some details, of course I told her how much I'd acted like a bitch, basically I just said I fucked him, told her the positions we did, what the kiss was like, how many times I came, and the size of his dick.
She listened to it all. Asked me to repeat parts. "Tell me again how you asked for the finger in your ass," "what his taste was like in your mouth." She laughed at the end, a low, mischievous laugh, no judgment. "Fuck, Nicole, you're something else. Cruel, but something else." I made her swear on her life she wouldn't tell anyone. She swore. Laughing. Something she'd end up doing. But I'd only find that out later.
I had to go to Mom's house. It'd been a while since I'd seen her. I grabbed my backpack, called the bus. When I got there, Jonathan met me at the door, same old smile.
"So, how'd the job go?"
"Not so great..."
My mom showed up right after. I asked for her blessing—it's a habit, automatic—and she put my brother and me to emptying our old closet of clothes while she lectured me about something I wasn't even listening to anymore. At her place—which used to be our house—my brother and I slept in the same room. That'd never been a problem for us. And it was in the middle of the cleanup, between old t-shirts and pants that didn't fit anymore, that I talked to Jonathan. Low, almost whispering, while Mom yelled from the kitchen about something nobody was hearing.
"Bro..."
I said it without thinking if I should confide this in him. Even though we'd kinda fucked, he wasn't a confidant. I didn't know if he'd get jealous or something, if he'd think I was asking too much, or if he'd just laugh and say it was crazy. But it came out. Low, almost whispering, while I folded an old t-shirt from the closet.
He stopped what he was doing, looked at me sideways. He realized right away it was something Mom couldn't hear. His voice came out low too, but with that tone like he already knew it was gonna be heavy:
"You know about anal sex?"
His eyes went wide right away, shocked. He laughed low, nervous, and I could see on his face he'd thought of a million jokes in that instant. I'm sure of it. He held back the laugh, shook his head, like he couldn't believe what he'd heard.
"Fuck, girl... lust, incest, and now sodomy? You really trying to make the devil happy!"
"God, you sound just like Mom," I replied, almost laughing, but feeling my face burn.
We had to shut up because Mom came into the room right then, talking loud about something from the hospital, dropping hints to find out if Dad was with another woman. She stayed there a few minutes, messing with the clothes we'd pulled from the closet, complaining that "this place is a mess" and "you two need to learn to take care of things." When she left, banging something in the kitchen, the silence came back.
Jonathan got a little closer, looked back at the door to check if she wasn't coming in suddenly, and answered low:
"Nicole, I've never fucked, right... the most I've had is... you know." He paused, looked at the door again. "The only thing I know is that it hurts and you need lube."
I knew that. I knew it hurt, because even just with Lucas's finger it had stung, clenched, burned a little before turning into pleasure. But no way was I going into a pharmacy to buy lube. I'd die of embarrassment. The clerk would look at this young girl's face buying that, imagine what I was gonna do with it, and I couldn't even stand thinking about his look. So I stayed quiet, just nodding, feeling the heat rise again just from talking about it with him.
"Did you try it with Fabiano?"