Chapter 21 #3
A memory of him flipping me over and pressing me down into the mattress last night as he fucked me, deep and slow, has my smile widening.
He’s the real deal: I fancy the pants off him, he definitely has skills, and he’s magnetic enough that my other brains—my Excel brain, and my spiralling brain, and my insecure brain, and my to-do-list brain—largely tend to go offline at the mere sight of him.
Ewan throws a napkin at me. ‘You are such a smug bitch.’ I chuck it back and notice Ivy gazing at me with an expression that looks a lot like hope. If I were a better person, I would probably see fit to thank her for inadvertently sending a truckload of orgasms my way.
She averts her eyes back to Flora. ‘Anyway, love, do any of those ring a bell?’
Flora makes a face and squirms uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know. I mean, it definitely could be me to blame. Sometimes we’re… doing it, and I find myself dreaming up a new sculpture that I want to try at uni.’ She pauses. ‘That’s so bad, isn’t it?’
‘Everyone does that at some point,’ Ivy says. ‘I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve dissociated during sex. Not with your brother, obviously, but all those things I mentioned could be a factor. Do you think you’re attracted to him?’
‘I’m really attracted to him,’ Flora says hurriedly. ‘I mean, he’s gorgeous. And he has such a nice body. I just— He’s so gentle, and sweet, and patient, but it all just feels a bit… passive, you know?’
I swear to God, everyone in the room lets out a big ahh of understanding at the same time, and then we all crack up. Even me.
‘Bingo,’ Ewan says. ‘If I was a sexpert, I’d call that a breakthrough. He lacks throwdown.’
We all nod sagely.
Fucking hell, my husband most definitely does not lack throwdown.
‘I don’t know,’ Flora says, looking panicked. ‘I don’t exactly have a huge amount to compare it to.’
‘What might be going on,’ Ivy says, and I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully, ‘is that you want to be dominated, and he’s not doing that. And that might be out of respect, or because he doesn’t know that’s what you want, or it might just be his personality.’
I’m thanking my lucky stars right now that Harry isn’t a first cousin. Thinking about him and Flora like this is icky enough as it is. Even so, this conversation just reached a whole other level of discomfort. I can’t believe Ivy is talking about domination as if it’s the weather.
‘Or maybe you just don’t have sexual chemistry—like maybe you’re not compatible,’ she continues. ‘It kind of comes down to how much you like him, how much potential you think this has, and how much you want to persevere, really.’
Flora gives her a horrified look. ‘I don’t want to talk to him about it! Oh my God—what would I say? I’d be mortified.’
I’m totally with Flora. If I wasn’t sleeping with someone like Ben, who has so much sexual power emanating from him, who naturally loves to dominate, then I’d be stuck in the same sexual rut as I always was: hoping the guy telepathically knows what I want and has the skills to provide it.
(Spoiler: that was a spectacularly ineffective approach.)
‘Well’—Ivy crosses her legs on the floor; she seems to be warming to her theme—‘first you should figure out what you actually want. Like, watch some porn. Read some romance books. Spend some time considering what scenarios turn you on when you’re getting yourself off, and then ask yourself if you think Harry’s the guy to provide that shit for you. ’
Flora is now tomato red, and I suspect I am too. Who on earth talks like this—or even thinks like this? I want to commando-roll under the sofa. ‘I haven’t—I wouldn’t even know where to start,’ she says.
Ewan actually puts his hand up. ‘If you have smutty book recs, then I’m up for them, too. We could have a book club, Flora.’
‘I think,’ Ivy says, ‘that if you’re not getting turned on by being in the sack with Harry, bless him, then you might need to think about something less vanilla.
Read a book called American Queen.’ She nods sagely.
‘That’ll help you figure out if you like being dominated pretty fucking quickly.
It’ll either have you bolting yourself in the loo to get yourself off or running for the hills.
You’ll like it too,’ she tells Ewan. ‘There’s a lot of dick.
And if all of that fails,’ she continues to poor old Flora, ‘then you probably want to think about whether you feel strongly enough about Harry emotionally to compromise on the sex. I blame your bloody brothers for trying to micromanage your love life for so long. But honestly, love, the sex part is really, really important. So don’t sell yourself short, yeah? ’
I watch her, my jaw hanging open in shock. Who the hell is this woman who’s seduced my former fiancé and is sitting in my den, imparting sex advice with aplomb? Two things strike me:
One, Xavier must be getting very well looked after by Ivy.
And two, he must be a far dirtier bastard than he ever let on to me. Because I can’t see Ivy selling herself short, either.
Flora’s also gaping at her. ‘What was your verdict? On American Queen, I mean?’
Ivy winks. ‘I’ve read the trilogy five times, so I’m sure you can figure out my kink.’