Page 25 of Size Queen

9

Noelle

Since our date two Fridays ago (we couldn’t make it till Saturday), Damon and I were in an almost constant state of lovemaking. Saturday was reserved entirely for sex in his bedroom. I would ride him so hard into the night, and he would fuck me so good. We were very comfortable with each other, and I was really beginning to trust him.

The next week came, and so did we. We were hooking up a lot, atleastonce a day. Sometimes we would meet before workandafter. I only slept over at his place one time during the week, and it was because we were both intoxicated and having round after round of hot, drunk sex.

I’m more than happy to have sex with Damon and not really label anything. I feel like we’re both a little old to be calling each other “boyfriend and girlfriend,” and the less stress we put on our relationship, the better we both feel. I’m just going with it.

It’s Saturday again, and today we’re going to get together as planned. I was scheduled for a half-day morning shoot, but instead, it’s going to be another full day. To ease my stress, Damon offered to cook me dinner. I was being fickle with what I wanted, so I told him to surprise me.

Earlier, I texted him and warned him that we probably weren’t going to be able to have sex since I was due for my period. However, as the day goes on and the girls and I change from swimsuit to swimsuit, I realize Ihaven’tstarted my period…

It was supposed to start either the day before or now, and I don’t even feel the slightest bit faint or sore. In my experience, I have had moments when the tides were out of line, so to speak. Sometimes my period is off by a day or two, but I always get it.

I’m glad, in this case, that I’m not going through my time of the month.

“I can’t get enough of Damon’s dick,” I tell Sabrina privately. “I always want it in every part of me.”

“Wow, you sound like you’re addicted,” Sabrina laughs.

“I basically am,” I confess. “If you think I’m getting too clingy or obsessive with him, please tell me. I don’t want to scare him off.”

“Girl, I don’t think you can scare him off,” she says. “You two have been fucking for like two weeks straight! You two are dating, basically.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re not calling it anything.”

“I guess you’ll see if you two really like each other soon,” she says. “You’re on your period, right?”

“No, I’m a day late I guess,” I told her. She and I have been sharing the same cycle for years now.

She frowns. “That’s unusual. You and Damon have been using protection, right?”

Instinctively, I go to tell her yes. I would have been lying, though. And I’m not about to start lying to my best friend.

“Noteverytime,” I admit. “There were a few times when he’d be inside me and he’d pull out before he…”

“Right,” said Sabrina. “Well, I hope you’re not fucking preggers. With Damon Abrams’s child? The last thing you want is to be carrying a gang leader’s baby.”

I dress nicelyfor Damon and keep checking my reflection in the rearview mirror as I drive to his place, heading there as quickly as possible. I took more time than I should have to get ready. I just always want to look good for him.

I’m still not on my period, and I’m grateful for it. I’m eager to fill myself with dessert after our meal… I’ve been anticipating it all day.

I park my car, pausing to check myself again before turning the engine off and stepping out. I send Damon a quick “I’m here” text, expecting him to already be waiting for me by the door like usual.

This time, I have to knock on the door. When it finally opens, I’m aware of why I had to wait: the smell of dinner hits me like a tidal wave.

“Hi—whoa!” I say. “Something smells delicious.”

“Thank you,” Damon chuckles. “Been working hard on it, not gonna lie.”

I go in, expecting a long, passionate kiss to greet me. Instead, our kiss is quick so that he can return to the kitchen and complete our food preparations.

He made a broccoli, cheddar, and chicken casserole with dinner rolls and a salad. To say I’m feeling overwhelmed is an understatement. I’m always blown away whenever he makes dinner for me, especially on this scale. I’m not used to this level of caring and effort. I don’t want to potentially bruise his ego by complimenting his sweetness, so instead I beam at him while he finishes.

We eat together, savoring every bite of his delectable entrée. From time to time, he’s on his phone, which is unlike him whenever we share meals.

“Is everything okay?” I ask with curiosity.