“It’s weird. Even Rowan noticed it last night. She keeps looking at you and then looking away when she thinks you’ve noticed her.” His voice was sounding sleepy.
There was no chance for me to say anything back, or for Jesse to carry on enjoying the peace. The sound of fast feet and voices echoed through to the pool area.
“Uncle Jesse! Uncle Jesse! Can you play sharks with us?”
I heard him groan. I thought about not laughing but I didn’t have that sort of willpower.
MORE THAN TWO YEARS AGO.
I had Neva on my lap with my hands on her tits.
I had Neva on my lap with my hands on her tits.
The same sentence ran through my head a dozen times because I couldn’t quite fucking believe that this was my life right now.
And her tits were fucking amazing. Just a bit more than a handful, firm and real. The real bit was important: the last three sets I’d had the pleasure of feeling had not been real and while I’d thoroughly enjoyed getting to know them very well, I did prefer the real thing.
Should I tell her that she had the best pair of tits I’d felt this year – maybe longer? Or should I keep my mouth shut?
The second seemed like the most sensible option, and the best way to keep my hands exactly where I wanted them to be for the next few minutes.
Her nipples had hardened. Her hips were rocking against me, and I figured she’d realised that my dick was definitely very, very interested. Hopefully she would stay interested too. Hopefully I wouldn’t blow like a fifteen-year-old having his first ever experience.
Neva was older. I doubted she’d had the same level of experience as I had, at least in terms of numbers of partners. But that didn’t mean she’d experienced sex that wasn’t as good as what I had. The longest relationship I’d had was with a girlfriend when I was eighteen and she’d been seventeen. I’d been her first and she’d been shy, some of her moves reminding me of porn, making me think she was trying to be what she thought I wanted.
It got better. I got to know what she liked and she became more confident. I was going to guess that Neva knew what she liked already and she was going to expect I was proficient at least.
Shit. I might not live up to her expectations. My dick started to tremble, feeling the pressure.
Then she pulled off her top, losing her bra at the same time, leaving her tits exposed for me to view and, fuck me, there was only one reason my dick was trembling now, and it wasn’t stage fright.
I bent my head, taking a nipple in my mouth and gently sucked, teasing it with my tongue. Neva’s hands moved into my hair, gripping through it as I busied myself, her hips still moving, seeking friction.
I let her nipple go with a pop. “Do you want to carry this on upstairs?” Because while I had no issue with getting it on in her lounge, a bed would be more comfortable and then she might let me stay, so we could indulge in Sunday morning sex, which was definitely one of my favourite things.
She froze, her hands still in my hair, nipples still hard. “No one can know about this.”
That kind of suited me right now. “Fine. It’s our dirty little secret.”
“And it only happens this one time.”
“As in one occasion, but we can fuck as many times as we like?” I felt like the Big Bad Wolf being given one night with Red Riding Hood.
She laughed, her tits jiggling, which just had me spellbound.
“Can you manage it more than once?”
That made me laugh. “Neva, I’m twenty-three. I can go on till my dick falls off.”
“Good, ‘cause so can I.”
I stood up with her legs wrapping around my waist, shoulder checking through the doors to the stairs and carrying her up to her bedroom, glad we were at hers as I wouldn’t have been able to be sure that my bedroom wouldn’t have resembled that of a fifteen-year-old.
I knew it wouldn’t though. My housekeeper had clearly been in there at some point during the day and had tidied up, so it would’ve resembled the bedroom of a man, including clean sheets. But we weren’t at mine; we were at Neva’s. The magnitude of this was similar to being called up to the England team or winning the FA Cup, my heart beating way too fast and my attempts to slow it down futile.
I put her down on the bed, her dark hair splaying over the white sheets, her eyes shining, lips curved in a smile. Kissing her was easy, her arms wrapping around me, her legs curling over my calves and pulling me closer.
Minutes later we were both naked, the pace less frantic because the promise of repeats made it feel less desperate, less like I was clutching at grains of sand that were frittering away.
