He’s still hard, and he touches my panties, about to move them aside and then lift me up on his dick. I don’t want to be on top. I don’t want to have sex with him anymore.
“I’m dry,” I tell him. “You’ll hurt me.” My first time, that’s what happened. It was short and really, really painful.
“You’ll get wet once I’m inside of you.” He combs my hair out of my face.
A long time ago, Ryke once said, “What kind of asshole enters a girl on her first time without getting her aroused first?” This asshole.
Ryke’s advice: “You should stay away from any guy who doesn’t make you come at least twice before he fucks you. Keep that in mind.”
Two and a half years later, I have kept it in mind, but I haven’t followed it through. Not all guys are willing to take the time to get me off before the big show.
And maybe that’s what he was saying back then. I shouldn’t be with a guy who focuses on himself first and a woman last.
“I can’t,” I tell Ian. I climb off his lap quickly before he can grab me, and then I collect my sweater, tugging it over my head. When I look back, Ian still lies on the mattress, as though I’ll return any second and straddle him. “I think you should go.”
He licks his lips and then hides his erection in his briefs. He pulls his jeans back over his hips and slides off the bed. “I get it,” he says. “You’re not ready. Maybe tomorrow night?”
“I don’t think I’ll be ready by then. I’m sorry,” I say, meeting his blue eyes.
He nears me a little more, and I try to appear more confident, like Rose. I pull back my shoulders and stand taller. I also paint on a face that I use when I have to look angry during photo shoots. Narrowed eyes. Tightened lips. A dark scowl.
He’s not intimidated by me in the least. “You don’t even want to finish?” he asks.
“I have a boyfriend,” I immediately blurt, hoping that’ll push him out. Maybe if he has morals…
He lets out a short laugh. “If you had a boyfriend, it’d be all over the news, especially if you were caught cheating on him.”
“We’re taking a break,” I say. What are you doing, Daisy? “I just don’t feel comfortable sleeping with someone so quickly.”
“I can take a hint,” he says, grabbing his little plastic baggy off the dresser. “If you change your mind, you have my number. Maybe I’ll see you around.” With this, I escort him to the door. He glances back at me and kisses me lightly on the cheek.
I give him a small smile.
And then he departs without another word.
< 14 >
DAISY CALLOWAY
Lock. Lock. Lock. Lock. I speed through the room, checking behind the shower curtain in the bathroom, and then I prop a chair underneath that doorknob. When I finish securing the sliding balcony door, I head to the mirror and inspect my breast that keeps throbbing
I lift my sweater up. I’m bleeding. He bit me so hard that my nipple is not only red and raw, but it’s trickling with blood. Why, why do things like this happen to me? He also sucked so hard that a yellowish tint of a bruise forms on the outside of my breast.
I’ll have to cover it with makeup. Hopefully no one will notice tomorrow. Hopefully the clothes are modest, not too revealing or else the designer may be upset.
Good job, Daisy.
My room is quiet. No one talks. No one makes a sound. I am alone. I replace my sweater with a baggy night-shirt, and I climb onto bed, wearing boy-short panties. I don’t want to take Ambien and experience another nightmare. So I lie awake, flinching at the whoosh of wind blowing into the window, as the ceiling creaks, as voices escalate in the hallway. Every little thing snaps my eyes open the moment they drowsily begin to close.
Okay. New plan. I snatch my laptop out of my rucksack, and I lean against the headboard. No, I will not open social media. But maybe…maybe porn will help. Maybe I haven’t tried masturbating enough to find a climax. Surely I can do this right.
And the task is taking my mind off the possibilities of an intruder. That’s the most important thing.
I pop open my computer…but I have no idea where to even begin. I check the clock. 3 a.m. in Paris. 9 a.m. in Princeton, New Jersey. She’ll be up. I find my cell and make a quick call, putting it on speaker so I can search the internet too.
“Hey,” Lily says with a yawn. “How’s Paris…” Her voice softens, and I hear her whisper to someone in the background, “It’s Daisy.” Lo must be with her.