30. Adrian #2
“You’re curious about my sex life.” He says it in a flat voice I can’t decipher.
“You know all the highlights of mine.”
He stares at me for the longest time. Still can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“What do you want to know?” he eventually asks.
I shrug again. “What’s your type?”
It takes him forever to answer, and in the end, what he goes with is, “Tall.”
I wait for something more, but he seems to be done.
“That’s it?” I say. “You’re attracted to people based on their height?”
He raises his brows before he squints at me. “Are you judging?”
“Calling you out. You’re not that shallow.”
“I might be.”
“You’re not.”
“I once slept with a guy because he had nice hands.”
“I stand corrected,” I say, and he laughs. “Okay, what’s the ideal height?”
“Six seven,” he says immediately and calmly like he’s really thought that through.
He hasn’t.
I know he’s lying, but he does it so convincingly that it’s hard to call him out. Also, I’m six four, so now I’m interested in what that one inch I’m lacking takes away from me.
“Why six seven?” I ask.
“Easy access.”
“To what?”
He gives me a droll look.
I’m missing something.
“You’re six two,” I say.
“Sure. When I’m standing up. But sometimes I like to be on my knees.”
I blink and finally catch on.
I tilt my head to the side. “Really? That’s the perfect height difference?”
“According to extensive testing.” He’s starting to sound more than slightly sarcastic, which I should probably take as a hint to leave him alone, but I can’t. Now that I know he’s holding something back, I can’t leave it alone.
Turns out I really don’t like the feeling he’s keeping something from me. Really don’t like it.
And anyway, what’s the big deal? I don’t understand why he’s being so secretive about this. I know he’s gay, so it’s not like he’s gonna say anything really surprising here he feels he should hide.
Unless he’s into something extreme.
I frown and glance at him.
Is he?
I guess he could be. I can’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.
“What now?” he asks with clear exasperation.
He’s not even looking at me. His eyes are closed, and I’m pretty sure he was trying to ignore me.
“I can feel you staring,” he says, “so spit it out. What is it?”
“What are you into?”
He lets out a long, deep sigh and pushes himself up on his elbows. “You really want to do this? Seriously?”
“Whips? Chains? Fire?”
“No.” He studies me for long time, his expression just a bit guarded, but also defiant. “But I do like to be in charge.”
It’s not that I think Dylan is somehow passive or timid. I know he’s not. The fact that he’s usually quiet and calm gives a lot of people that impression of him, and it’s a wrong one. He’s quietly confident and very much determined.
But still, his answer is somehow surprising.
No, that’s not what it is.
I’m not surprised by Dylan’s answer.
I’m surprised by my own reaction.
Because for a flash, I find myself thinking what it’s like when somebody else is in charge.
Because I am in charge. All the time. And for a second I find myself thinking about what a relief it would be not to be in control all the time. About how good it would feel to let somebody else take the lead.
Really fucking good.
I clear my throat. “Oh yeah?” I say it just to say something and not make him feel like opening up to me was a mistake because I’m being weird about it all of a sudden.
He’s still eyeing me carefully as he nods.
“I know what I like,” he says.
“Is that experience speaking?”
“Yes,” he says, short and to the point.
“How many people have you slept with?”
He laughs. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“I’m not asking for a detailed list. Give me an estimate.”
He clamps his mouth shut.
“Five?” I ask. “No? More? Less? I’m gonna guess more, then. Stop me if I’m in the ballpark. Ten?” I raise my brows at him. “Fifteen?”
He doesn’t react at all.
“Twenty?”
“I’m not gonna give you a number,” he says.
“Why not?”
“Why do you care?”
“Twenty-five?”
He sighs again. “It’s more than twenty-five and less than a hundred. That’s all I’m going to say.”
Well. He’s a lot more experienced than I am.
“And with all of them you’ve been the one in charge?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Because I was a sex prodigy and just knew what I was doing from the very start.” He stops speaking, but then he gets a faraway look in his eyes.
Kind of like he’s remembering something really good.
A small smile curls the corner of his lips, and a very sudden, very strange bolt of jealousy goes through me because he has memories I’m not a part of or privy to.
“You have to try things out to know what you’re into,” he says, his voice matching the faraway look. “Experiment.” His tone goes wistful. “You learn a lot about yourself that way.”
My throat feels a bit thick, so I have to swallow before I can voice my question.
“What have you learned?”
He’s still not meeting my gaze. Still deep in his own thoughts.
“I like to make people feel good. I like it when I can make them feel pleasure from something they weren’t expecting would feel good.”
I swallow again.
I don’t…
I don’t know how to describe this feeling. Uncomfortable, but with a hint of something . I want him to put an end to it. To tell me to mind my own business. And at the same time, I want him to keep talking.
“Yeah?” I grunt lamely, but Dylan doesn’t even seem to notice I’m being weird. Instead, he bites down on his lower lip for a second and nods absently.
A moment later, he suddenly seems to snap out of whatever haze he was in. He snorts out a laugh.
“Yeah,” he says. “You’d be surprised how uptight some people are about their assholes.”
I wouldn’t know.
I’ve never tried anything like that.
I…
Time to put the brakes on this conversation.
I glance toward the sky that’s starting to darken.
“I should go and top up the firewood,” I say. “It’s gonna be dark soon.”
We built a lean-to for the firewood, so now, even if it rains, we’ll have dry wood to start another fire quickly.
Dylan puts his hands behind his head and closes his eyes again. “Knock yourself out. I’m taking the evening off.”
I laugh. To my credit, it’s only minimally strained. “Awesome. Leave me to do all the work.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll come and help.”
“No, go ahead. Be lazy. You owe me one.”
“Sure. Cash it in whenever. I’m here all weekend,” he mumbles.