I don’t turn the key in the lock. Just leave it dangling. I spin my body, pressing my back against the cold bricks. Those full breasts are now warm and firm against my chest, my cock somehow still in her hand.
She glances nervously over her shoulder towards the sounds of voices carrying from the footpath, but not nervously enough to take her hand out of my pants.
“Nobody can see,” I whisper, beyond glad those hedges are still untended.
“Good.” It’s more a moan than an actual word, and with that she drops to her knees.
Her mouth is warm, a thrilling contrast to the cold of her hands.
I slide my fingers into thick, silky hair, pushing it back from her face as she licks and sucks. Her cheeks, pink with the cold, hollow, and my head falls back against the bricks as the voices fade out of earshot. I squeeze my eyes shut because looking into those big grey eyes while she turns me inside out with her mouth is too much. Too close. Too intimate.
I’m so hard it hurts. I can feel my balls tightening. I don’t want to blow this. Literally.
Pulling out of her mouth with a pop, I lift her to her feet and spin her to face the wall. Planting her hands against the bricks, I press down on her back so her beautiful arse is on display. Flicking her short skirt up, I take a second to admire the perfect curve of muscle, bisected by a sheer scrap of red lace. I reach around her, shoving it aside. With more desperation than technique, I plunge my middle finger into her dripping heat. Curling it for maximum effect as my thumb finds her clit.
I press my body to her back, my cock nestled between her arse cheeks, hot and hard.
“You want me to fuck you here? On the porch? Where anyone could hear us. See us. If they cared to look?” I hiss into the soft, sweet-smelling skin below her ear.
Garbled noises that might or might not includeyesandcondomfall from her mouth.
I reach one handed into my back pocket, pulling out my wallet, thankful for the condom my brother had teasingly put there when I had a drink with him last week. Neither of us expected me to be using it so soon when he joked about the use-by date.
Getting the condom on isn’t any easier than getting the key in the lock, but finally, it’s stretched over my length and with no finesse at all I’m shoving myself into her, all force and fury.
There’s no awkwardness. No disconnect. We hit a rhythm right away. She’s pushing back into my thrusts as though we’ve done this a thousand times before.
I’m self-aware enough to know why I favour this position. Why it’s the only one I’ve used—infrequent as it's been—in recent years. Face to face means eye contact. Eye contact increases intimacy. And the way our eyes locked and held at the bar, the way her direct gaze felt like a full bodycheck, gave me fair warning this would be intense.
A car passes, the muted sounds of doof doof music overlaid on the roar of a souped-up engine. The faint smell of exhaust fumes drifts over the fresh green scent of the hedges. Voices come closer, then start to fade as more walkers pass by. None of it impacts our rhythm.
I can tell she’s close. Her movements are picking up pace, in time with her quiet gasps and gurgles. I slide my thumb back to her swollen clit, and that’s all it takes. She’s there. A harsh breath, almost a snort, erupts from her as her legs stiffen and her internal muscles grip me with such strength it drags my orgasm from deep in my balls. My rhythm falters. I grip her hips, holding her tight against me as I empty all the energy I’ve built up for way too long into the condom.
Disembodied voices and the tang of cigarette smoke float towards us.Did you hear that? Hear what? It sounded like … it sounded like someone having sex. Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nobody around …Footsteps fade into the distance. We laugh silently, shaking, my belly and chest pressed to her back.
“Guess they could hear us, even if they couldn’t see us,” she says. The crown of her head is pressed to the bricks, but I can hear the smile in her hushed voice.
What just happened is so far outside my normal behaviour I don’t even recognise myself. But from the moment our gazes clashed at the bar, there was an energy between us.
I wait for the guilt. For the regret.
For the first time since my wife died, it doesn’t come. Maybe I’m tempting fate. Maybe I’m asking for it. I straighten, flipping her skirt back over her arse and wrapping my arm around her waist. Pressing my lips to the delicate skin of her neck, where a few damp strands of toffee hair cling, I invite her inside.
Chapter Two
Sadie
Iknow he said he only recently moved in, but even so. There’s a single chair in the lounge room with a massive television propped on a wooden crate. An open box of crockery sits on the bench of the recently renovated kitchen with a single plate, bowl and mug removed. The fancy high-end coffee machine and sleek fridge suggests this guy is not hard up for a dollar. As does the sublimely comfortable bed, complete with white sheets that feel like a million silkworms worked overtime to make them.
Boxes line the already narrow hallway. As far as I can see, they’re all marked ‘books’. Doesn’t surprise me. He came across as smart and well-read. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.
“The Uber should be here in five. Are you sure you’re okay with that? I’d drive you, but I haven’t got a car at the moment.” He leans in the doorway, phone in hand, all tall and defined and gorgeous in grey sweats and nothing else, despite the slight chill in the house.
The whole package is porn. From his slightly too long hair that’s neither red nor brown but both to his flawless cheekbones and washboard abs, all the way down to his perfect toes. He even has those V-cut muscles pointing to the promised land, the outline of which is clear in the sweats.
If I wasn’t aching in every muscle, and it wasn’t nearly four in the morning, and I didn’t have to finalise my PhD application paperwork tomorrow—I mean today—I might even cancel the Uber.
I pull on the boots I discarded in the hall on the way to his bedroom.
