I groaned as the tugging suction and her grip worked together to create quite possibly the best sensation in the world. Her eager mouth was so warm and wet. Hers was the only one that made me wish I could kiss it and fuck it at the same time. For a fleeting moment, the thought that she had gone down on me to change the subject popped into my head, but it was hard to argue with her if that were the case. Sex with her was one of my most favorite subjects.

Her free hand reached up to cup my balls, and that nearly threw me over the edge.

“I need to be inside you,” I said.

She didn’t respond, so I lifted her to a standing position and then hitched her knee to my hip.

She grabbed my ears and pulled me against her mouth, and I positioned myself, deciding in the moment to lower her onto my dick—slowly since she’d already worked me into a frenzy. I lifted her other leg. Just as I moved to position myself, I lost my footing. America squealed as I reached out, scrambling for something to save us, and then I resorted to bracing for the fall. The nylon curtain ripped from the rings, only giving us half a second before my back slammed onto the floor.

I grunted and then looked up at America, her hair dripping wet, her eyes clenched shut. One jade eye popped open and then the other.

“Christ, are you okay?” I asked.

“Are you?”

I breathed out a laugh. “Yeah, I think so.”

She covered her mouth and then began to giggle, making laughter erupt from my throat and rip through the apartment. Soon, we were wiping our eyes and trying to catch our breaths.

The giggles faded, and we were left on the floor, water dripping from our skin onto the tile. A droplet formed on America’s nose and dripped to my cheek. She wiped it away, her eyes shifting back and forth, waiting, as she wondered what I might say next.

“We’re okay,” I said softly. “I promise.”

America sat up, and I did the same.

“We don’t have to do what everyone else is doing to be happy, right?” Her voice was tinged with sadness.

I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat. It wasn’t that I wanted to do what everyone else was doing. For a long time, I’d wanted what they already had.

“No,” I said. For the first time since we’d met, I lied to America.

I was too ashamed to admit to her that I wanted those things—the rings, the vows, the mortgage, and the kids. I wanted it all. But it was too hard to tell an unconventional girl that I wanted a conventional life with her. The thought that we didn’t want the same things and what that meant terrified me, so I pushed it to the back of my mind, to the same place where I kept my memories of Mom crying over Aunt Diane, far enough down so that my heart wouldn’t feel it.