Page 83 of No Sweeter Poison

He presses his lips against the shell of my ear as he speaks. “Baby, God can’t do to your body what I can. Now lift your hips.”

I can’t think straight when he’s inside me. I might’ve been angry and afraid earlier but that was three orgasms ago and I neither care nor remember why I felt the need to arm myself with a letter opener. He asks me to lift my hips and I do, meeting him thrust for thrust, and I don’t know much more I can take.

He intertwines our fingers and brings our joined hands above my head, pinning them to the mattress. Alejandro’s eye contact never wavers, the intensity of it so profound, an onslaught of emotions makes my chest tighten. I can’t make such serious eye contact during sex because he looks intome, and it’s too much. I won’t last sixty seconds with him looking at me like that so I usually avoid it.

Not tonight. He seems to want me to look back so I do.

“Dahlia,” he whispers against my lips.

Dahlia.

Dahlia.

Dahlia.

My name is a prayer and an answer.

It isn’t until after we both climax—sweating, panting, and screaming each other’s names—do we both realize.

I feel the slickness of our arousal between my legs, thighs glistening, and horror washes over us like a fall through the ice of a frozen river.

He drops his forehead against mine, eyes falling shut. “Dahlia—”

“I know,” I tell him. “I know.”

THE BIRDS AND THE BEES

Dahlia

L ettie’s nose crinkles as she stares at the aisle of drugstore makeup. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“No,” I spin around in a full circle, looking for the right sign. “I’m fine.”

She trails close behind me and I try to put some distance between us by cutting through aisles and making weird turns. She gets distracted by a nail polish display and starts rifling through the bottles while I make my way towards the sign that reads family planning or at least, I think it does. The signs here are weird and my translation skills aren’t the best. Not to mention I’m hopelessly distracted.

I use the translator app on my phone to figure out which boxes I’m looking at and continue to make my way down the row. The bottom one looks like it might have what I need so I bend down and translate the labels. Lettie comes up from behind me holding half a dozen nail polishes in her hand.

“Why didn’t you just say you needed to find the feminine products?” She points to the row behind me. “The pads and tampons are there.”

I rub my temples, debating on whether I should tell her so she can find the pill for me or save myself the absolute mortification of explaining why I need one.

“I’m not looking for pads, Lettie.”

She frowns. “Then what are you doing over here for? These are just pregnancy tests and—”

I give her a look. She trails off.

“Oh.”

“Lettie—”

She drops all the nail polishes in her hands and squeals. “Ew! Ew, ew, ew! You filthy people!”

“Leticia—”

She gags. “Oh my God, stop, I’m going to kill myself. Muévete, imbécil.”

Lettie pushes past me and gives the shelves a rapid once over. Her eyes land on what she’s looking for and she snatches the box from the shelf. Without preamble, she tears it open and pops the pill out of its protective aluminum wrapper.