Page 22 of Cursed Daughters
“I don’t want to be with Lisa. I was just helping her out—her cousin was wasted and we had to find him a ride home. Don’t vex. I want to be here with you.”
“Well, you have a sorry-ass way of showing it.”
He nodded. “Be gentle with me, I haven’t done this before.”
“Done what before?”
“This…the dating thing.”
She paused, and then his words registered. She laughed. “You mean…am I your first girlfriend?”
“No need to shout it.”
“But…why?”
He shrugged. “It just never came to anything. I would start talking to a babe, go on a few dates, and then things would sort of fizz away.”
“I didn’t realise.”
“Look, you’ve got to be able to talk to me, Mo. I’ll make mistakes, but I promise you I am willing to correct them, so long as you tell me what’s gwining.”
He reached for her hand again, and this time she let him have it. He put it to his lips and she felt the friction all the way to her toes.
“Am I forgiven?”
XI
To show him just how forgiven he was, she took his hand and pulled him deeper into Lisa’s large house, with its many rooms. She picked one far away from the sounds of the party, and turned on the light as they entered.
The warm light flooded the room. There was a massive bed in the centre and it was made up hotel style. The sheets were tucked in, and there were several decorative pillows to seal the deal. The other details in the room were garish—the decorator had relied heavily on red and gold.
She took a breath. They were going to consummate their love. Would she have preferred for it to happen in a grand hotel? Yes. But this would have to do. Their love would transcend the tackiness of the setting.
“She will kill me if she finds us here,” muttered Golden Boy.
“We better not waste any time then.”
Golden Boy didn’t move towards her. He stood in the middle of the room, considering her. So she would have to be brave for the both of them.
She unbuttoned her dress as she walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he held her steady at the waist. He smiled at her. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled. He smelled of sweat and weak cologne. She loved it. She licked his neck and felt him shiver.
“Mo…” But he wasn’t stopping her. His voice was thick, conflicted. She covered his lips with her own. She knew what arousedhim—the little flickers of her tongue, the gentle nibble of his lower lip, the starts and stops. It was working, because now his hands were roaming, finding all her curves, all the parts he professed to love—her waist, her round, generous bottom, the breasts that fitted perfectly in the palms of his hands. But then he stopped abruptly, his hands dropped to his sides and he took several steps back. She felt the ripple of air from the fan above her and she was suddenly cold.
“Shouldn’t we wait?” he asked.
“For what?”
“For marriage?”
“Why would we…” She paused. A thought had come to her. “You have…done this before, right?” He didn’t respond, and he wasn’t looking at her. “Golden Boy?”
“I’m…I haven’t had sex before.”
She whistled. “You’re kidding, right? You’re twenty-one.”
“Ehen?”
She blinked. “You’re serious.”
