Then I remember.
Shit. I didn’t put on a condom. I don’t have a f*****g condom. f**k me. I grit my teeth in frustration.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” she asks me with concern. I look at her sad eyes, and she swallows.
“You don’t want it, do you?” she whispers, and I can’t almost hear her. God, it breaks my heart to see her this sad, and it’s all because of my stupidity and overwhelming excitement.
“No, baby. It’s not it. For God’s sake, Abby. I never felt like this before. I like—no. I love every inch of you. I love everything about you. I love your taste. I love your p***y. I love the feeling of being with you.” I want to say I love you so bad.
“Then what’s wrong?”
I close my eyes and breathe. “I forgot I didn’t put a f*****g condom, and I don’t have a f*****g condom here. It’s you I’m pro
