Getting home had been difficult. Her hands had tormented me during the short drive, her fingers running over my thighs and under the hem of my t-shirt. I’d glued both of my hands to the steering wheel, trying to focus on the road and struggling, nearly demanding that she get into the back.
Parking took too long. The walk to my front door took too long. Finding my keys took too long. By the time we got inside I was growling with impatience, needing to feel her skin and wondering how I’d managed to deprive myself of it for so long and why the fuck I’d walked away from her.
The little sounds she made as I kissed her and explored her over her clothes made me want to tear off what she was wearing and bury myself inside her for a week. She was more confident that the first time we’d been together, braver with where she touched and when she dropped to her knees, hand undoing my jeans, I nearly came like a teenager in my pants.
“Fuck.” I was down to single syllable expletives.
She didn’t respond, mainly because her mouth was already full, her tongue doing things to my cock that I couldn’t comprehend because there was no blood in my head to help my brain function. I heard myself say her name, felt her hand pump me a couple of times and then was vaguely aware of my hands in her hair, encouraging, half-controlling, half not needing to because she knew exactly what to do to make me so fucking crazy.
She pulled away and I groaned, looking at eyes which shone as they saw me.
“Get your jeans off now. And you top. Want to see your tits.”
She stripped, quickly and without grace, but I didn’t need her to be graceful right now, I needed her to be on my cock and being fucked. She weighed barely nothing as I picked her up and spun her round, her back against the wall, legs locking around me. I put a hand between her legs, making sure she was ready, ready and wet for me, and she was. One finger told me she was tight, two pumping inside her told me she was eager and as needy as I was.
“If you want to change your mind, tell me now.”
She shook her head. “I want you in me.”
“Happy to oblige.” I lined myself up and pushed into her in one thrust, feeling her clench around me. My hands held the underside of her thighs and her nails dug into my back, her tits moving up and down with each hard thrust.
She shouted my name, almost a cry and I heard myself growl, the need to possess her growing harder and stronger, claiming my territory.
This woman had challenged me, accepted me, stood with me tonight in a place that made others uncomfortable and now we were fucking like I couldn’t remember ever having fucked before.
“Need you close, Sim. You’re killing me here.”
She nodded, her cheeks flushed, eyes dilated. “Nearly there. Just… harder...”
Three more times and she came hard and loudly, her body shuddering and her words a blur. My orgasm was intense, long and powerful, some caveman instinct making me feel as if I was claiming her, marking my territory by coming deep inside her. Her eyes locked onto mine and I lost all need for oxygen because she was my fucking life force. I wasn’t screwing anything up again because she was it and every single fibre in me knew it.
I’d come home.
We clung to each other when we stilled, both our chests heaving for breath. I was still inside her, still hard, and I didn’t want us to move from the wall that was propping us up. Partly because I didn’t know if I had the strength in my legs to move, but also because I wanted this to last forever.
She lifted a hand to my face and cupped my jaw. “That was something else.”
I nodded, nuzzling into her hand. “It was. We’ve had hard and fast, how about soft and slow?”
Her smile wasn’t one I’d seen before – because I had noted and categorized her smiles. It was sated, happy, content, and full of power because right now she held all of it.
I was hers to do as she wished.
Chapter 11
Simone
Two marriages, albeit that one was brief, and I’d never felt that feeling of being in a deep, soothing bath of a relationship. Jack had immersed me in something I hadn’t known existed.
He didn’t apologise any more for walking away. Instead, he opened up, telling me about him and Robert, how they were growing up, why Robert had enlisted and bits about Lauren, what she was like as a baby. He didn’t push me to talk about myself or Eliot or Phillip, but I found myself sharing snippets and it wasn’t as hard as I thought. My little insular world where I protected myself was starting to develop a hole in it, and Jack was sneaking in there.
And I was letting him.
He was the ocean, salt water with its healing properties, washing away the boundaries I’d placed, eroding them a chink at a time. At work, he kept his distance, both of us getting on with our usual jobs, but I was convinced that everyone could see whatever it was between us.
The office upstairs in Mount Street was my safe haven for looking through the accounts and checking emails, playing around with menus and ideas. I could retreat here, away from the noise and bustle of the kitchen and the customers, finding shelter when it got too much for me to untangle the different conversations and demands.
It was next to the private dining room, a mezzanine with a glass wall overlooking the rest of the restaurant. My office shared the window, so I could see what was happening even when I didn’t really want to. Lunch times were usually a steady fast drip of diners, some business meetings, some friends socialising, some a group of men that looked way too familiar.
