Page 14 of Venus
The second we step out of the bar, the air hits us like a wall—thick with the first taste of autumn clinging to everything it touches. The neon sign behind us gives one last flicker before fizzling out, like even it’s too tired to pretend anymore.
We don’t even make it half a block before Venus grabs my shirt and pulls me into her. And I mean into her, like she’s afraid I’ll start talking again and needs to make sure she shuts me up.
I kiss her back, memorizing the taste of lemonade and vodka on her lips, mixed with fruity ChapStick. She’s delicious. Every bit of her. It makes me crazy for more.
“I live closer,” I huff out between a nibble on my bottom lip. I might have been buzzed before, but I’m perfectly sober now. She says nothing, just follows my lead as we stumble towards my truck.
She nibbles on my throat, and I take that as the green light to stumble to my truck and lift her into the seat.
The entire drive, I’ve got one hand on the wheel and one hand all over her.
She’s half naked by the time we get there and my belt is undone before I even shove the key in the front door lock.
We don’t even make it to the bed. We crash to the couch. She lands on her back and I catch myself over her, all without letting her lips escape mine. Everything is a blur. Our remaining clothes are strewn all over the apartment, and my hands rest on her hips as I admire her body.
She doesn’t give me much time though, because she grabs my dick like she owns it. I hiss when she gives it a squeeze and I reach for my discarded pants to find my wallet and pull out a condom. She keeps stroking me and makes it very hard to concentrate on getting it secured to me.
I take control of the situation again by flipping her over on her stomach and pulling her hips closer to me.
“Good girl,” I whisper as she arches her back and wiggles her pretty little ass against me. I slip right into her with one easy thrust and she whimpers loudly. I pull out and thrust back in, starting a rough pace that doesn’t seem to satisfy her.
“More, Carter. Please,” she begs. She matches my rhythm by slamming herself backwards with each of my thrusts. I gather her hair into a ponytail in my fist and pull, giving myself enough leverage to fuck her harder.
An empty glass on the table next to the couch gets knocked off from the vibrations, shattering all over the laminate flooring. It only encourages me to go harder. I want this entire apartment to be a bigger mess than Venus when I’m through with her .
I’m railing her as hard as I can manage. This is not the kind of sex we normally have. This is more primal, more urgent. Everything I’ve been holding back is shoved into each thrust, and I know she can feel it, even if she’d never admit it.
The alcohol has been burnt out of my body by the adrenaline rush I get being with her.
I’m perfectly sober, all of my thoughts consumed by this girl and whatever I have with her, desperately trying to fuck my feelings into her heart because for now, it’s the only thing she responds to.
I can feel her fighting it, but I have to convince her to let me in.
I pull out, flip her over, and slide back in. I lean in as I thrust, slower now. She whimpers, and I know she wants it harder.
“Use your words,” I whisper as I nip at her ear. Her legs start to quiver around me. “You close, V? You want to cum all over me?”
“God, yes, Carter.”
“Ask me nicely.” I give her a hard thrust, and then stay buried as deep as I can go as I wait for her to give me what I want. She stays quiet, wiggling her hips to beg me to move. “That sassy mouth doesn’t have much to say when you’re stuffed full of my cock, does it?” Another thrust. “Ask for it.”
“Please,” she begs, and I wish I had the self-control to ask her for more, but I don’t. If I hold off any more I’ll bust straight through this condom.
I plow into her with everything I have, wrapping my arms around her shoulders to pull her into my chest. She screams my name so loud I feel a ringing in my ears, but I don’t let up until I feel her squeeze my cock so tight it feels like her pussy is pulling my soul from my chest.
I release deep inside her, the condom catching what feels like a nonstop cascade of cum flowing out of me. I grunt into her ear as I slowly grind us both through the aftershocks of our release.
After what feels like forever, I lift myself away from her to look at her face. Her red cheeks and messy hair belong to me right now. I feel myself committing this moment to memory, but hiding the adoration in my eyes.
I don’t want her to always be so ready to run.
She doesn’t say anything to me, simply lets out a string of deep, slow breaths as she stares right back at me. She doesn’t have to say anything though.
I pull out, both of us shaking at the leftover sensitivity. I push off the couch and head straight for the bathroom, disposing of the condom before falling into my bed, balls empty and heart full.
About a minute later, she joins me in the bedroom and helps herself to the bed, spreading out and leaving me with only the very edge. We lie there in silence for a while, letting the fan cool us off.
My room smells like her. Like me. Like sex and something else that feels suspiciously like the ‘L’ word. But I can’t do that to myself. Not yet.
She flips over to her side and tucks her cheek into the crook of my shoulder and chest, tracing lazy shapes in the hollow of my throat and around my Adam’s apple.
I hold her close, my arm resting comfortably on her hip as if I don’t know she’s planning how to make her exit without ruining the intimacy of the moment.
The longer we linger in the silence, the more I think. The more I want to say.
“Do you feel it?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, but she lifts her head and begins looking around the room. “Feel what?”
I turn my head to meet her eyes. “This.”
She shifts slightly away from me. Just a hair, but the distance might as well be miles. “Carter…please don’t.”
“I’m not trying to. I’m not. But you can’t deny it, can you? We promised we’d be honest.”
“Maybe we should practice keeping more thoughts to ourselves,” she says, and I think she meant it softly, but it almost snaps out of her like she’s already exhausted by the conversation. “I’ve told you a hundred times this isn’t going anywhere.”
“But it is. You know it and I know it.”
“So let’s say I do. Hypothetically. I already told you this will never be serious, so why do you bother bringing it up?”
She says it so coldly, so firmly. Like it’s been rehearsed. A speech she’s practiced just for the poor guy who can’t let her go.
I take a deep breath. “Can I at least know why, V? Please…maybe it would be easier if I understood where you’re coming from. ”
She sits up, but pulls the blankets up to cover her chest. Not running, but it looks like she’s getting ready to tell me a horror story.
“I’m broken,” she says.
I sit up too, relaxing back on my elbows. “Is that what this is about? A bad heartbreak?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t mean heartbroken.
I mean really broken. Physically.” She goes still and looks down slightly, gathering strength for whatever it is she’s trying to tell me.
“I lost my virginity when I was fifteen to a senior at my high school. You know…the whole young and in love thing. We didn’t use protection and after a few weeks, my period was two days late and I started panicking about possibly being pregnant.
I was so scared of ruining both of our lives, and stupidly, I was afraid of him leaving me if he found out.
I was afraid my parents would disown me.
I didn’t know what to do…so I…” She takes a deep breath.
“I took my dad’s old truck and told him I was going out to the corner store for some soda.
But instead of going to the store I—I hit the gas and rammed head-on into a tree hoping that I’d do enough damage to miscarry if I was pregnant. ”
“Jesus, V,” I breathe.
“I know…it was stupid. I was unconscious, but when I finally woke up in the hospital, everything got so much worse.”
In my mind, I’m wondering how.
Another deep breath leaves her mouth. “It turns out I did so much internal damage that I had to have a complete hysterectomy at fifteen. They removed my uterus and I completely lost my ability to ever carry children. And the worst part? I was never pregnant to begin with. So I almost killed myself and ruined my future family over nothing.”
She looks down in shame, and then with red-rimmed eyes, she gives me an unconvincing smile. “Not exactly first-date material, huh?”
I don’t know what to say. Mostly, I feel sorry for that girl that was so scared of a baby that she would go to those lengths to eliminate a possibility she wasn’t even sure about.
I don’t want her to feel exposed, and I’m not sure I want to go back to asking what all this has to do with us , so I stay silent.
As if she didn’t just pour her heart out to me, she says, “Anyway, I’ve made peace with it.
But guys? Men? It’s usually a dealbreaker, especially since we’re still technically young.
I tell them, and they’re nice about it, but the relationship doesn’t last long after.
Most guys want kids eventually, even if they say they don’t when they’re young.
I get it, but it gets exhausting, so I just do everyone a favor and promise not to get attached right from the beginning. ”
“You’ve given up on relationships entirely because of a mistake you made when you were fifteen?” I ask.
“No,” she says back, cool as a cucumber. “I just think it’s only fair to be upfront about my intentions.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say.
She gives me a look. “Is it? ”
“Yes. You’re intelligent, funny, painfully beautiful, and stubborn as hell. If some guy walked away from all of that, that’s on him. Not you.”
“You don’t get it, Carter. It’s not fair to ask a man to give up that joy for me.”
“Who says a man can’t be just as happy with you? Only you. Not to mention there are so many other ways to have kids. Adoption. Fostering. Hell, having a pet. You still deserve to love and be loved for exactly who you are, regardless of your lack of a uterus.”
Her expression softens for a second—but only a second.
“Do you want kids?” she asks, like its a test.
“Don’t turn this around on me,” I warn. “Fuck what I want. This conversation is about you. And V, I’m telling you that I want you, exactly how you are. I wouldn’t walk away because of something you can’t control.”
She doesn’t say anything for a while, she simply lies back down and stares at my ceiling. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I mean it. As much as I want to get it through her stubborn little noggin that she’s not any less of a person to me because of a trauma she went through years ago, I don’t want to push her too hard. Instead, I trace the lines of her face. “How about a shower?” I ask.
She glances over to me, brow raised. “You kicking me out already? ”
I grin. “Nah. Just figured I’d cook something while you rinse off. Unless you’d rather sit here marinating in our sins.”
She laughs, which is the best sound I’ve heard all night. “Fine. But I swear, if you’re just trying to check out my ass again!”
“No promises,” I call over my shoulder as I grab her a fresh towel from my closet.
While she showers, I scoop up her clothes from the floor and toss them into the washer. I turn it on a quick cycle before digging around in my drawer for a clean shirt she can borrow until her clothes are clean.
The fridge is depressing. Two beers, one slightly brown apple, and half a pizza that may or may not be from last Tuesday.
I choose the pizza and beers. Gourmet, right?
When she emerges from the bathroom with damp hair clinging to her neck and my shirt around her thighs, it feels so…right. My brain short-circuits, because this is all I could ask for in this moment, and I’ve got it.
She plops onto the couch and manspreads, revealing her panty-less pussy. My dick stirs, but I ignore it. “Where’s my feast?”
I hand her a slice of cold pizza on a one-dollar plate I got from Wal-Mart. In an imitation Italian accent, I say, “It’s’a family recipe from mi Nona.”
She giggles and takes it without hesitation, taking a big bite. “Perfection. ”
We end up on the couch, curled under a blanket, watching old cartoons that don’t require anything but a low-functioning brain and a few snacks. Her head rests on my shoulder. Her feet are tucked under my thigh.
This is the kind of quiet people dream of. The kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling.
“You know,” I say after a while, “I meant what I said earlier.”
“About what?”
“About how I’d be happy to have you just as you are.”
She doesn’t respond. But she doesn’t pull away either. She just reaches for my hand and holds it like she’s testing the waters of something more.
And that? That is enough. She is enough.
We watch the screen until our vision goes blurry and our bodies fall limp with sleep. She curls up into my side like a puzzle piece, arm wrapped around my waist and head tucked under my chin.
I don’t dare move, not even to move us to the bedroom. I just listen to her breathe, and I appreciate this moment that she’s giving me. It’s obvious now why she’s always tried to be so distant, and I don’t want to pretend like this isn’t a huge step for her.
The ache in my chest tells me this is never going to be casual again, and I can only hope that she can learn that ‘serious’ with me will never be scary.
Serious with me means she’ll never be alone or unloved again.