29
SINCLAIR
That dickhead Henry has sent me three sock emojis, with a question mark, to which I am sadly forced to reply with a middle finger. He sends me the smiling face with halo and then the hear-no-evil monkey.
I hate him.
In the end, we’ve already done the essentials in the theatre. I’m not quite sure how, given tonight’s events, I’m ever meant to stand on that stage without immediately getting hard, but I guess it was probably worth it.
Shit, yes, it was worth everything. Tori’s face just before she came. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful. The sounds she made. Her arousal, the pleasure I gave her. If I could spend the whole rest of my life doing just one thing, it would be that. Bringing Tori to climax. All day long. With my mouth, my tongue, my fingers, my dick. It really was kind of incredible. So much better than last time. And not only because she grew tight around me and started to throb, so that I didn’t have a hope in hell of holding on even a second longer. But because it was clearly as good for her as it was for me. Because this time it felt like sleeping together. Not in, out, wham, bam. I don’t know what I should do if it doesn’t get a bit better every time. Because every time we get to know something new, discover somethingabout each other. Oh, God, I can’t wait. All the things we can still do. If Tori wants to.
I think she does. She kisses me as we fall to my bed, almost before we’ve kicked our shoes off. I pull the duvet over us and Tori lays her head on my chest.
‘Will you sleep here?’ I make no effort to hide the hope in my voice.
She nods. ‘Yeah, unless?’
‘Yeah.’ I put both arms around her. Our bodies are touching. Everywhere. I’m only too aware of that, but I can feel that she’s tired. Her muscles relax, I stroke her shoulders. She loves that and I know it. Her hand is lying on my chest and she’s not moving. I think she’s fallen asleep, but then she starts talking.
‘Are you nervous?’
‘What about?’
‘The performance.’ She runs her finger up to my collarbone. ‘It’s not long now.’
‘True,’ I say. Only a few weeks, and I don’t feel anywhere near ready. We’re still a long way off running through the whole play. The way things are going, we won’t have many chances to do so before the opening night. If at all. Don’t think about it . . . ‘Yes. I think I’m pretty nervous.’
‘Nerves are good,’ says Tori. ‘They mean it matters to you.’
‘I never expected to find it this much fun,’ I admit.
‘Being on stage?’ she asks. ‘The Aquarius in you.’ She says it so matter-of-factly that I have to smile.
‘But I still wish you’d got a part too.’
‘Maybe it was meant to be this way. I don’t have to be dying of nerves on the first night and I’ll be able to look after you.’
‘Also true.’
‘And we’ve got next year’s play.’
‘True again.’ I hug her tighter. ‘Then you’ll be Juliet.’
‘And you’ll be Romeo.’
I shrug. ‘I doubt that Mr Acevedo would let anyone play the lead twice.’
‘What if nobody else is as good as you?’
‘You’re forgetting Henry,’ I say.
Tori laughs. ‘I’m sure Henry’s the last person to have theatrical ambitions.’
‘That’s what you thought about me.’
‘Yes, but only until I properly thought about it.’
‘I still don’t understand why Valentine didn’t snatch the main role for himself,’ I murmur.
