I buried my head into the pillow, muffling a curse-laden shout; he rubbed a hand over his face in worry.
After several tense seconds I lifted up, letting the duvet fall and I tugged on his arm, taking a calming breath. “Look, that shouldn’t have happened, we dropped the ball. I’m on birth control, so don’t panic about that... no eggs have been fertilised in the old womb-cubator –”
I paused mid-sentence, biting my lip. It wasn’t pregnancy I was concerned about. He is an actor, a very famous actor, one who could have – and no doubt had had – bimbos spreading their spindly legs for him on tap.
I glanced up to see him grinning at me. “What’s so funny?” I asked, confused.
“I’m clean, Tash. No worries there. You have such an expressive face. I’d love to play you at poker!”
Strip poker. Hello!
“Oh. Well, good. Me too, I mean on the STD thing anyway. I'm as clean as a whistle… that’s been polished… with bleach.”
“Message received, Tash. I get it, you’re clean.”
I sighed in disapproval, pursing my lips. “Honestly, you pirates! You just dock your vessels where you fancy and let loose your seamen willy-nilly!”
He dived at me and rolled me on top of him, nuzzling my neck, hiding his laughter. He pulled his head back, slowly losing the humour, and met my eyes, demanding my full attention. “I haven’t been with anyone in a long, long time, and haven’t wanted to be until you. I want you to know that.”
I gave him my best ‘whatever’ expression.
He put his finger on my highly arched brow, forcing it back down. “I’m serious.” he pushed, forcefully.
“Why? Look at you. Hot, built and famous, you must have vadge on demand!”
He let out a loud snort. “Tash! Do you ever think before you say these things?”
I shrugged unapologetically. “It’s true! You must have been knee-deep in fanny in LA. You’re as hot as a menopausal woman at a Dream Boys concert and you’re famous: Pure. Pussy. Magnet.” I exaggerated each word with a slap on his taut arse.
He gawked at me, mouth open, before bursting out laughing. I joined in. He took my hand, kissing the tip of every individual finger before laying it over his heart. “LA is nuts, you’re right. But I haven’t lived there in a few years. I got sick of sleeping around with leeches, people hungry for fame. It's sickening and gets old quick. Since then there’s been no-one special. I told you, I find it difficult to be with a girl emotionally.”
“But sex is emotional.” I argued.
He grew very serious. “It doesn’t have to be. Sex can just be that, sex. No emotional attachment at all.”
I frowned, trying to work out if we had just had non-emotional sex. He tipped my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him. “With you it’s everything, Sunshine. A rainbow of emotions.” he teased playfully with his hand over his heart.
Wow! I’m like his personal Care Bear.
I pulled back and wrapped the duvet around me, viewing him critically. “You left what, three years ago?”
He nodded.
I crossed my arms. “So you're telling me you haven’t been with anyone since then?” I sat back, waiting for the answer.
He grimaced shyly. “Is it not too early in our relationship for the sexual history talk?”
Relationship?
“Well, considering you just took me unwrapped, bareback, skin to skin, un-rubbered, un-sheathed–,"
He put his hand over my mouth and winced. "I get it, Sunshine."
"You sure? No more adjectives needed?"
He firmly shook his head.
"Then I’m gonna say it's exactly the right time to have this discussion.”
He took hold of my wrists, pulling me forward, slamming me to his chest.
“You, young lady, have a mouth like a sailor, do you know that?”
I winked and clicked my tongue. “Aye Aye, Captain! What can I say? It’s the foul-mouthed Scottish in me. Now stop changing the subject and spill, well, spill words this time. Have you really been living like a medieval monk for three years?”
He groaned rubbing his head across my lower throat. “No. I had… acquaintances that would occasionally… oblige."
“Non-emotional f**k buddies?”
“For want of a better term, yes.” he said, almost regretfully.
I began tracing the tattoos on his chest. “So, when was the last time you were with one of them?”
Please don’t say recently. Please don’t say recently. Please don’t sat recently.
He grasped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze breaking my inner chant. “I haven’t been with anyone in about ten months, I promise. I no longer have any contact with them, they are in the past, a past I’m trying very hard to move on from.”
I grinned happily and smacked a kiss to his juicy full lips. "Good answer!"
He shook his head disapprovingly, waving his index finger a touch shy of my nose. “No, no, Ms. Munro, it’s your turn now.”
“Pah, that’s easy. I haven’t been with anyone since February, my ex, and he put me off men for quite some time, the f**king letch."
His eyes went wide. “Ah, so you’ve only been with women since?” he teased.
I huffed. “Yep, I’ve been having plenty of naked pillow fights and girly slumber parties that just for no apparent reason spiral into hours of vaginal experimentation and clitoral orgasms a-plenty! Is that what you want to hear?”
Tudor moaned loudly and lifted me against his ridiculously full crotch. “Fuck, I just got hard again!”
“Men!!!” I slapped his chest, his rock hard chest. "In all honesty Tudor, my 'acquaintances who oblige' – as you so eloquently put it – consist of my limber-fingered right hand and my bunny-themed battery-operated friend.”
He encased me in a hug and sighed. “Don’t worry, I’m not into sharing, so no lesbian p**n o fantasies here, thank you. I only want you feasting on me. But your other methods of pleasure get an open invitation.”
My heart stopped. “Hang fire and go back a bit. What do you mean share?” I blurted out in a higher pitch than was normal.
He pulled back from our embrace, confusion on his face. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”