‘Fuck, yeah.’
Her hand curves around it and it springs to life in her palm, hardening further. He glances down at her underwear and raises an eyebrow.
‘Mmhmm.’ She’s a little breathless at the feel of him. He strips her panties off, slowly skittering the light material down her legs. He leans over to pull a condom from his jeans pocket and flashes it at her between his fingers, then moves up onto his knees to put it on, slipping out of her grip as he does so. She reaches for him again once the condom is on, licking her lips in anticipation and straining her damp mouth up to kiss his as she guides him towards her, widening her legs. She positions him at her entrance, then moves her hand away to hold her arms up above her head, wrists crossed. Her eyes flick up towards them, indicating, and Mo grips them in one strong hand. Anika nods, grinding her teeth eagerly. She feels powerful, in control. Then …
Yes.
They’re loud, impolite. Anika is happy for him not to be a gentleman. After a few sweaty minutes, though, she decides she’s not going to get there this way. She pushes Mo away momentarily with one hand on his collarbone. ‘Bend me over this.’ Her other open palm slaps dully against the sofa to indicate what she means. A moment later, her knees hit the laminate floor as he obeys, sliding her off the seat and angling her hips, entering her from behind. Her fingers claw at the velvety material as her muffled screams diffuse into the sofa cushions. It bashes against the wall in time with Mo’s grunts, and she works her hips in a circle that she can tell is driving him wild, rejectingany passivity she used to feel during this act. The sensation is incredible and Anika’s orgasm stuns her into a loud, borderline-embarrassing shout. Mo’s fists hit the cushions beside her ribcage as he crashes over her, cumming a moment later, his trembling body slick against her back. They rest like that for a minute, their panting easing, and eventually he pulls out of her. Anika turns to sit on the floor, leaning one elbow on the sofa and unashamedly watching Mo as he slips the condom off, knotting it with aplomb.
‘Mmm,’ he murmurs, looking at her. There follows a beat of silence before he asks, ‘Loo?’ It’s a far cry from the filthy things he was growling moments earlier.
‘Just down the hall on the right,’ she says, matching his casualness and meaning it.
He grabs his clothes and Anika pulls her underwear and T-shirt on, then she curls back up on the sofa and starts scrolling her socials.Just what the doctor ordered, she thinks to herself smugly.Well, he didn’t, but maybe he should have .. . She feels elated, set on a path to a freedom she only ever imagined before, her muscles and bones humming with liquid energy. It feels gratifying to have taken it for herself. She notices the time on her phone – three minutes to midnight – and her mind goes to the words she projected on the diary page. It worked.I got EVERYTHING I needed.
Hearing the toilet flush and the sound of the tap running, she ensures she’s not looking too dishevelled before Mo ambles back into the living room.
‘You good?’ he asks, his tone genuine, but with a hint that he expects – rightly – that there’s not much more required of him. Anika already can’t imagine ever seeing him again.
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Thanks for the doughnuts, Mo,’ she says with a wink, and then glances down distractedly at a notification on her phone screen.
‘No worries, gorgeous.’ He pushes his hands into his pockets. ‘Listen, I’ve got an early one tomorrow morning, so …’
‘Course, course. Seriously, though, that was fun. Thank you,’ she says, and he gives her a small salute, then spins on his heel and heads out.
Anika waits until she hears her front door slam shut, then heads down the corridor and drops the chain into place.
Well. That was new.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday 22nd July
‘Aaaand just let your muscles relax into Savasana – final resting pose. Be here for five minutes, maybe longer if you don’t have anywhere to be …’
Anika expels a sigh up to the ceiling, half wishing shedidn’thave plans today. She’s slightly annoyed that by the time she remembered, it was too late to write anything in the diary. But at least she’ll get to see her mum.
Anika is impressed with herself at having unfurled her yoga mat every day for the last five. She grudgingly hauls herself up from the floor, tentatively contracting her core muscles. They still ache, but not unbearably. She makes a mental note to add some lines to her next diary entry about making her exercise routine even more potent.
The serenity generated by the yoga starts to seep away as Anika stands critically in front of her wardrobe twenty minutes later, trying to decide what to wear to her mum’s house. Nella’s eyebrows will undoubtedly raise up to graze the hem of her headwrap when she sees her daughter’s new hair, so Anika doesn’t want to provoke any further critiques for her sartorial choices.
Her mum and Philip’s multi-bedroom property in north London is the kind that seems homely and only mildly impressive, until you look on Rightmove and see the number of zeros their postcode adds onto house prices. Nella has beenlady of the manor for the last three years, after meeting Philip at a charity auction. She’s Philip’s third wife. Third time’s the charm? It’s still strange to think of her mum as ‘rich’, and being around Philip’s family – the eight-year-old twin boys he co-parents with his ex, and the adult daughter he had with his first wife who died – makes Anika wonder what she missed out on in comparison. Like having a father around.Like having a brother …
Taking a deep breath, Anika holds a shirt experimentally in front of her, looking in the mirror and trying to determine if her bra will be visible through its gauzy material. ‘Fuck’s sake, you’re a thirty-year-old woman,’ she tells herself. But who is she kidding? She changes into a comfortable denim dress and her brand new bright-blue Nikes, then nods at her reflection.
Right. Let’s do this, I guess.
‘Would you like a couple more roasties, Anika?’ Elizabeth asks, tucking her silken auburn waves behind one ear and smiling earnestly. Anika’s fingers scrunch into her pink curls momentarily, a reflex.
‘I’m all right, thanks. Pretty stuffed.’
Anika isn’t sure why Philip’s daughter is trying to pile more onherplate when as far as she can tell, nary a carb has touched Liz’s lips in her twenty-six years. She watches as the slender woman turns to her little half-brothers, both of whom nod eagerly at the potatoes balanced on the serving spoon, Jonathan earning a warning stare from his father as he snatches an extra one off Royce’s plate.
Anika swallows, thinking about her own brother again. She tries to picture herself in her father’s house, Nelson’s dark fingers entwined with the pale digits of his wife, Eloise, the remnants of a Sunday lunch spread out before them. It never happened, obviously, but if she and Kwesi could have grown uptogether, would they be close now? Regret assails Anika again, because they could have formed that bond later in life – until she ruined that one opportunity …
Elizabeth’s fiancé, Dylan, reaches over for the Sancerre and pecks his partner’s cheek as she delicately chews a green bean, refilling her glass and his own. He doesn’t offer Anika any despite being directly beside her, so she reaches for the bottle pointedly and offers it round.
‘Nella says you’re back to work tomorrow, Anika?’ Philip enquires from the head of the table, leaning back to allow his stomach to crest upwards. His pale-yellow polo shirt strains against its curve. He reaches over to rub her mother’s forearm and Anika watches proprietorially, though, in fairness, Philip has never seemed less than utterly smitten with her mother.
