Page 40 of The Unraveling

She smiles at me from her position by my knees. “Maybe it would help you to forget about that man.”

I raise an eyebrow and smile. “Maybe it would.”

She sets down the razor with painfully slow caution as I find myself suddenly wanting her, wishing she wouldn’t take her time.

But she does. She stands up and puts the cigarette out, stepping back against the door, her big, messy bun falling out in tendrils around her ears.

“Turn on the shower,” she says.

I do as she instructs.

Her robe falls to the floor. She’s still damp from her bath. This whole time, her nude body was just hiding away, only barely out of sight.

I see that she has a landing strip, identical to the one she’s given me. She also has perfect, round breasts that are bigger than I thought they were. She hides them well in her leotards. Some girls are just blessed with the kind that can hide away or be shown off like this.

She steps into the clawfoot tub, which has a showerhead on the wall above, and turns me around so my hair stays out of the water. “Let me rinse the mask off your face. Keep your hair out of it. Let the conditioner sit a little longer.”

I smile. “Only a girl would say something like that.”

She bites her lip and I let the water run over my face. She uses her fingers to get off the rest of the cream and then says, “Okay,” when it’s gone.

She reaches out of the shower and grabs her glass of champagne and hands me mine. We drink them, and then she takes the glasses, puts them down, and puts her mouth on mine.

Her mouth is cold at first, from the drink, but as our tongues meet, soft and delicate but urgent, we create a heat between us.

It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this. With Jordan, it was love. It was different. It was deep. It was meaningful.

But there’s something about sex just for the sake of sex that is its own kind of special.

My hands run over her body as it grows warmer and wetter from the steam. We’re about the same height, so when she moves even closer, our breasts press against each other’s, her hard nipples matching up with mine.

I let out a moan as her lips travel down the side of my neck. One hand is on my jaw, the other on my waist.

The water dampens her hair and I undo her hair tie.

She says, “Only a girl could do that without tying it all in knots.”

She kisses me and I can’t believe how good she tastes. The champagne and cigarettes and the lip stain from earlier have all somehow combined into something so delicious that I find myself desperately wanting more, more, more.

Her hand travels between my legs. She groans. “It feels even better than it looks,” she says. “You’re so warm and wet. Oh…yes, baby. I just felt you get tighter. You’re so sexy, fuck.”

She says this last part into my mouth as her tongue licks my lips and mine finds hers.

Her fingers feel so good. I start to breathe more heavily and she says, “I wonder if you taste as good as you feel.”

She drops to her knees while I stay standing, sinking into the still-full tub beneath us. It’s draining through the hole in the side, but staying filled almost to the brim.

Her mouth on my clit has me immediately let out a cry of desperate, greedy desire. The heat of it, the accuracy of her aim. The softness of her lips.

I get close, put my hand on the back of her neck as I grind her closer, closer into me, and then…

The wave of pleasure washes over me.

“Now, come here,” she says, pulling me down into the water with her.

I kiss her and she tastes like me, which is strangely intoxicating. I touch her and she lets out a deep, carnal sound of pleasure. We cannot get enough of each other, and we’re both drenched in water and each other. The sound of Film Noir’s “Prends la pierre” plays out of the speaker, seeming to set the tempo and tone of our connections. She climbs on top of me in the water and slides her leg beneath mine, so that our landing strips are right up against each other.

It feels amazing, and I’m still tingling from finishing as hard as I did. This time I slide my fingers into her. She cries out for more. I thrust harder, then she looks me in the eye and says, “More than two, more than two, give me your fist.”

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