No. He wouldn’t do that. He wants me to break the will for my sister, he wouldn’t take the only proof I have that I’m no longer a virgin. Opening the door, I walk into the living room and the breath I’d been holding bursts from me in a relieved huff as I spot him sitting shirtless on the couch, the video camera in his hands.
His body is unbelievable, I noticed it earlier when he took his shirt off, but there’s something about watching him like this that makes him even more attractive. He’s beautiful. Short deep auburn hair so dark I’d always thought it was brown until today when he was above me, his body joined with mine.
His jaw is covered in a light stubble a few shades lighter than his hair but it does nothing to disguise how strong it is. He doesn’t look like an eighteen-year-old boy, he looks like a man, and I have to swallow down the desire that’s sparking back to life within me.
Frozen in the doorway I notice he’s wearing grey sweatpants now, not the jeans he took off earlier, and his chest is a bare expanse of smooth, hard muscle except for a tattoo over his heart. Honestly I’m not a fan of tattoos, years of listening to my mother’s disgust at them has tempered my opinion, another thing I didn’t realize her influence has affected.
But I’ve never actually seen a tattoo on a real person before either. If I knew him better, or at all, I’d cross the room to him and ask to look at it properly, from this distance I’m not even sure what it is, all I can make out is that it’s colorful, reds and blues and oranges.
He hasn’t noticed me yet, his eyes are on the camera in his hands, his lips parted slightly as he watches. It’s only then that I realize he’s watching the tape of us. Horrified, my feet move without thought and I march toward him, snatching the camera from his hands and clutching it to my chest, fumbling to turn the video off.
“What are you doing?” I cry.
His smile is slow and languorous. “You know what I was doing Priss. Sit, we can watch it together.”
“No,” I gasp, mortified by the idea of watching a video of us having sex. “It’s bad enough that it even exists. That it even happened. I never want to watch it,” I shout, my voice becoming cold and angry, and so much like my mother’s that I internally cringe at the sound.
“Wow it didn’t take long for that sweet nervousness to wear off did it,” he drawls, leaning back on the sofa, his body language mockingly relaxed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “For a minute I thought a good fuck had mellowed you into becoming an almost decent person, obviously I was wrong.”
Inhaling sharply I’m surprised by how much his barb hurts. But it shouldn’t surprise me. We’re nothing to each other, not friends or lovers and this was just sex. An act between two consenting adults, a means to an end. “We both know I’m not a decent person Carson, a few orgasms was never going to change that,” I barb back, hating myself, but needing the familiar mask of superiority to hide behind.
Crossing to the other side of the living room I sink down into one of the couches and look at the video camera. My hands shake as I check that the video is still there, playing it for a second to make sure it works before turning it off and placing it in my lap. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look at him. Now this is done I just need to get away from here, away from him and all these feelings that are swirling around inside of me.
Pulling my cell out, I click into the Uber app and order myself a cab, relieved when it says that the driver will be here in less than five minutes. Rising gracefully, I ignore Carson’s probing gaze as I make my way back to the bedroom.
The blood stain on the bedsheets immediately grabs my attention, I hadn’t noticed it when I came out of the bathroom earlier but now it’s all I can see. Bright red against the white sheets. My eyes widen as I fixate on it. I’m not a virgin anymore. Despite knowing that it happened, feeling it in my body, and having a video to prove it, until this moment as I stare at the evidence on the sheets, I hadn’t really processed that I had sex.
My chest tightens as panic swells inside of me and before I even realize what I’m doing I’m ripping the sheets from the bed and balling them up as small as I can get them. Grabbing my shoes and purse I hold them to my chest as I rush from the bedroom. “I’m going to find a trashcan,” I announce, as I rush past Carson and make a beeline for the door that leads onto the deck of the boat.
Dropping my shoes to the floor I shove my feet into the ridiculous pink sneakers and move, descending the slim gangway that leads down onto the marina. Trying to maintain what little dignity I have left, I rush to the huge dumpsters on the other side of the parking lot, open the lid, and throw the sheet inside before slamming it closed again.
With my eyes tightly shut, I suck in a sharp gasp. I need to leave, to get away from all the tension that’s inside that boat with Carson. My cell beeps and I glance down at the screen, almost crying with gratitude and feeling a layer of tension fall away from me when I realize it’s a text telling me my Uber driver has arrived.
Glancing back at Carson’s boat I find him stood on the deck watching me,
