Tagged & Ashed(19)

I look up, a little shocked at first, and then I burst out laughing.

“You might as well finish taking off those shorts, babe. There’s no way you’ve only been with three people.”

I laugh harder, and her grin grows.

“I didn’t start dating until I was almost eighteen. The first guy I slept with had been my boyfriend for over a year before we took that step. After we broke up, I got involved with another guy, and after a few months, I slept with him. Then after him... well, you get the picture."



***

Ashiara



He looks very suspicious of me, and I really don’t blame him. It is rather low for a girl my age, considering I’ll be twenty-one next month. These days, that's too low - that's actually a sad fact.

“There’s no way you would consider doing this game - where the end result could have you under me - if you were that innocent.”

I grin deviously.

“First of all, I never said I was innocent. Just because my notch count is low, doesn’t mean I’m inexperienced - it just means I’m not as easy. As for the game, well, as you can see, I’m not afraid of losing. One question in, and you had to remove your shirt. The one thing you’re not so good at, Tag, is being real.”

He sits back, his smile fading and seriousness coming to his eyes.

“You’re for real? Three? That’s it? How did you manage that? I mean... look at you.”

“Because I haven’t always looked like this. Now, it’s my turn again. Ready to lose your shorts?”

He flashes an uncomfortable grin, and then motions his hands in a bring-it-on gesture.

“What’s the longest relationship you’ve ever had?”

He inhales deeply and then winces.

“A week. Now, my turn to ask you something. How many of those three guys brought you to orgasm during sex? And that doesn’t include oral sex.”

Oh shit. Frigging eh.

I can’t tell him I’ve never had an orgasm during sex. He’ll think I’m broken or defective or something.

Crap.

Standing up, I slip out of my shorts and drop them to the ground, bringing a wolfish grin to his face.

“Interesting,” he murmurs as if to himself.

Please don’t know.

“My turn,” I grumble as his eyes scour my newly shining skin, lingering over the orange fabric barely covering me. “What’s the one thing in life you feel guiltiest about?”

I have to give him tough, unanswerable questions so he gets naked first. There’s no way I can hand myself over to him, knowing damn well I'm not a one-and-done kind of girl. Sex means something to me... usually. I think. He's really screwing with my head.

He purses his lips, and then he leans back and rests his body fully on the lounge chair while staring up at the sky.

“This will probably make you hate me, but, last year a girl I had messed with came to me. She claimed to be pregnant. She showed me doctor statements, ultrasounds... everything.”

I hold my breath. I’ll definitely get over him if he has a child out there he isn’t taking care of in some way. Asshole.

“And?” I prompt softly.

“And I believed her at first. I always wear a condom. But I thought something might have gone wrong. So, I gave her money, paid for the entire pregnancy, and when the child was born, I was there the way I was supposed to be.

"The thing is, the amount of money I have affords me a lot of lawyers with good advice. They insisted on a paternity test, and I went along with it. It took a court-order to force her to oblige. Come to find out, I had been duped. I cut off her financial aide from my account, obviously, and I cut her out of my life.

“I never planned on getting back with her, but I was coming over regularly, keeping contact with Rick - the little boy - and talking to her like a person instead of some random girl I screwed. I can say now she’s the person in this world I hate the most.”

He looks a little heartbroken, and I want to go over, wrap my arms around him, and comfort him.

“That’s pretty shitty on her part, but I don’t get why I would hate you, or why you feel guilty. It’s not like the child was your responsibility.”

He studies the air above him, not meeting my eyes.

“If a kid has that sort of woman for a mother, think of the shit he’ll be put through growing up. He’ll be a joke at school, he’ll have stepfathers who don’t give a damn about him because they’ll be groping bastards getting some for cash, and he won’t ever have anyone to help him out when he needs it.”

I’ve never looked at anyone the way I am him right now. My heart has damn near stopped beating, and I’m almost aching. This wasn't supposed to get real.