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I want to push her more, to make her admit to her true self, but what the fuck will I do if she starts crying? Her tears, outside of sex, do shit to me. The bad type of shit. When I remain silent, she wiggles in my hold, and to my surprise, it’s not to pull away but more to find a better position. “Also, you didn’t use a condom just now.” “So? I know you’re on birth control.” “How did you know that? Pretty sure I didn’t post it on IG.” “But you had your IUD insertion at the hospital I intern in. I have access to records.” “Ever heard of patience privacy?” “Yeah. The professors bitch about it all the time.” “And you still breached it. That’s illegal, you know.” “Never stopped me before.” “Then…how about STDs, aren’t you like Mr. Manwhore or something?” “No, Miss Ex-Virgin. I am not a manwhore. In fact, I didn’t have sex the past two months and I’m clean. I always use condoms.” “Not with me.” “Not with you,” I repeat. “How else would I have felt your blood on my cock?” “Would you stop ta