“Don’t be,” I say. “I like it. The honesty. I don’t have to overthink.”
“I’m a fun guy, really.”
“Only non-fun guys say that.”
“Well,” and he smiles, “give me some time to prove it.”
And I think I will.
I wonder what Subconscious Maddie thinks of Sam; I’ve not heard from her in a while.
Dearest Maddie,
Thank you for getting in touch. I’m currently out of office and on annual leave for the foreseeable future because, quite frankly, I need a fucking break. If your query is urgent, please contact Your Gut. She should be able to help.
Best wishes,
Subconscious Maddie
* * *
The following morning, I text Sam.
Maddie
You were right. The burger does taste better in the morning.
As an immediate reply, he sends a picture of himself, mouth full, burger in hand, with the caption: Great minds …
Chapter Forty-three
A few weeks later
After lunch at his local pub, we go back to Sam’s place. He recently bought a one-bedroom flat in Muswell Hill, which made choosing Nia’s and my flat in Crouch End much simpler.
His kitchen is small but tidy, and everything has its place. I know inside his cupboard is a box of green tea for me. I like that the window above the sink is large and looks out to an apple tree.
We drink tea and split the giant doughnut we bought at the farmers market, sixty-forty to me.
As Sam washes our plates in the sink, I shuffle on the spot.
“Are you loitering, Maddie?”
“Yes.”
He smiles but carries on with the washing. “Okay.”
“Shall we have sex then?” I ask. “I’m not too full.”
He laughs and I watch small soap bubbles with pink edges escape the sink. “Do you want to have sex?” he asks.
It hadn’t been on my mind for a while until yesterday evening. We were at dinner with Sam’s friends （maybe they’re my friends now, too?）， Juliette and Aiden, and it was only when Aiden took out his wallet to pay and I saw a condom in one of the slots did I remember that couples have sex.
When I don’t answer, Sam turns around and says, “That means no.”
“We’ve been dating for three weeks,” I say. “We’ve been on ten official dates and you pay for most of them.”
He frowns. “And sex is my reward?”
“No, of course not. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Okay.”
“I do want to have sex with you,” I say. “I just don’t want to have sex.”
Sam dries his hands on a tea towel. “Why is that?”
My instinct is to lie. The day I told Alex the truth was the last day I ever saw him. I want to keep seeing Sam and— “Maddie, stop having conversations with yourself in your head and tell me the truth.”
Well, damn. “Sex is painful,” I answer. “For me. Painful and … distant, maybe. I just want to have the sex I’ve heard about, but I don’t know how.”
He considers me. “Have you tried doing it alone?”
I look away.
“Maddie?”
“It’s … it’s not really my thing.”
“That’s fine. Are you always wet?”
I chew my lip and try to think. “Maybe?”
“Have you ever been on top?” he asks.
“During sex? No, I tend to just lie there.”
He steps forward and holds out his hand. “Would you like to try that?”
I take his hand and slot my fingers through his. “Yes, I would.”
* * *
In Sam’s bedroom, my heart thumps in my ears when he closes the door. It’s a large room with the bed’s headboard under an alcove and a desk, covered in his artwork, situated in front of the window.
I wipe my forehead when his back is turned. We undress and he’s very slow with me. He brushes his fingers against my skin and I shiver. He puts a condom on and there’s no shuffle under the duvet or asking if I’m on the pill. Sam starts to kiss me and, naturally, I relax because we kiss all the time, until he’s sat on his bed and gently pulls me in. I trip over my feet and fall onto him, my elbow hitting him in the cheek.
“Sam, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He smiles, amused. “Maddie, it’s okay. Let’s try something else.”
Sam lays me on my back and climbs off to push a pillow under my waist. He presses a palm to each of my thighs to pull them apart; I resist at first, like an elastic band that won’t pull any farther.
“Is everything all right?”
I lift my head. “Yes. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. We can go slower.”
He leans over me, balancing himself on his arms, and slowly kisses my neck. His lips are warm and his kisses bury deep into my throat when he uses his tongue, bites and pulls away. He does this along my chest and my nails dig into his arms when he sucks on my nipples. I arch my back in an attempt to ease the pulsing between my thighs.
The warmth leaves my skin when Sam sinks to his knees. I know where he’s going to put his head next, I’ve seen it happen enough times on-screen, and sweat begins to drip down my back.
I hope I smell okay down there, but I don’t think anyone smells like honey. Just don’t think about it. I pick a spot on the ceiling and focus on it because there’s something too open and vulnerable about being naked and … there. There for anyone to see. For months, being naked has been synonymous with having a man on top of me with barely any room left to breathe— I gasp and my instinct is to pull my knees up, but Sam has a gentle grip on both. I ball the sheets into my palms as he takes me in his mouth, sucks and pulls between tongue-heavy kisses. I swallow a cry as Sam makes his way deeper into where my heart now thuds and again he has to hold my thighs apart. His grip now firm because I can’t keep still. He feels … and this feels … incredible.
I want to say this out loud, but then he presses his tongue flat and I say his name instead. I say it over and over because it’s the only intelligible word on my tongue and Sam likes that, it’s his incentive to go faster and heavier.
I hook my legs across his shoulders and, with greedy panic, I press him in deeper because I think it would be unbelievable if he’d take more of me and he obeys without a word. It’s a soft bite that makes me climax, that makes me scream and forget my own name.
Sam stops; I’m left shaking and would really like to fall asleep.
I close my eyes and wonder if he’ll kiss me and if I want him to; if I want to know what I taste like. I decide that maybe I don’t and he doesn’t.
He climbs on top of me and I wrap my thighs around him because I want to do that again, to feel that release again. How do I make him feel what I just did?
His skin is soft and his smell familiar; it brings to mind the comfort of borrowed jumpers and nights on his sofa in front of the TV; drinks under his arm when out with friends, and hugs hello. He enters me and the pain builds the farther in he goes. I’m about to ask him to stop, then he’s all the way in; my pulse triples and the pleasure from before returns. I have to grip onto the backs of his shoulders. There’s an exquisite pull in my stomach and he gasps as I move with him to deepen the pull. He moans into my neck and the desperate sounds coming from him make me love him, make me want to hold him forever.