I get another hit, but his praise is better than any high as I’m catapulted back twenty years. This man could make me submit and do anything he pleased. Having a high-pressure job, I needed that release from him. Tie me up and take away all control. It’s what I liked to call housewife BDSM. We didn’t practice it properly. I imagine the press would have had a field day if we were active members of a club, but just having him take away all my decisions for a night was liberating.
Staring into his eyes has my body weakening, my clit throbs as he hardens beneath me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt comfortable with a man. In my work, it’s hard to trust anyone. Having a one-night stand with a stranger isn’t an option and a colleague’s more likely to stab me in the back.
He stubs the joint out on the ground, then runs both hands along my thighs under the dressing gown until he reaches my knickers. A groan vibrates in his chest.
I hold on to his shoulders as he kneads my behind, forcing my hips to rock back and forth. “Alex…” My voice is no more than a breathy whisper as tingles take over, the heady sensations making me delirious.
He tugs at the dressing gown, opening it to reveal his festival t-shirt from years ago. His eyes sadden as he takes in the date on my chest, either that, or he’s just noticed how saggy my breasts are without a bra.
“You still wear this t-shirt?” His eyes flick between mine and my chest.
“It’s comfortable.” It’s also sentimental, and I couldn’t part with it if I tried.
His fingers tug the dressing gown off my shoulders, then he traces over the ketchup stain from the festival on the t-shirt sleeve. Moving down over my breast, he outlines the blue felt-tip mark from Finn, then he rubs the small burn on the hem between his fingers, from the night we drank too much whiskey and almost set fire to the kitchen while cooking bacon sandwiches at three in the morning. Our history is woven into the stitching. There’s no wonder I can’t part with it.
“How can a t-shirt hold so many memories?” His eyes glisten under the moonlight as he gazes up at me.
“Let’s make another night to remember.” I fist the collar of his shirt and press my lips to his. All the tension leaves my body as I relax into the old familiar warmth of his mouth.
His hands find the bare skin of my back as they wrap around me underneath the t-shirt, holding me close against his chest. It’s been twenty years since I felt these firm hands on my skin and I savour the feel of him, knowing this is probably the last time we’ll get a chance to be intimate again.
The narcotics may have taken away all my inhibitions, but the need for this man has always been there, lying dormant just beneath the surface. Even though he aggravates me to death, he’s the only man who’s ever been able to make me weak at the knees.
He slips his tongue between my lips, taking over the kiss. I lick and swirl against his, but I let him take control. It’s what I’ve always loved about him, how he can take control of my body and summon an orgasm from me at his will.
I fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, desperate to have my hands on his skin. My core pulses as he thrusts from the bottom,seeking the pressure he needs against his erection and giving me what I need in return.
“Merry,” he whispers against my lips with a groan. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
I ignore his protest, silencing him with my lips. “But it’s the only thing that feels right.”
He latches on to me, sucking my tongue into his mouth, his hands squeezing my breasts as if moulding them to his palms while flicking my pebbled nipples with his thumbs.
I need more of him. I need to remove the fabric between us and feel him inside my heat. That delicious stretch I’ve missed for so long. Lifting from his lap, I unbuckle his belt. My fingers brushing against the steel in his trousers has my body burning up.
“Merry, what are you doing?” His eyes search mine.
“What does it look like I’m doing? That joint gave me the munchies.”
His chest rocks with a silent laugh, but his fingers tremble against the crease of my thigh. “Is it your pussy that’s hungry for my cock?”
Oh fuck. He still has that dirty mouth. I say a silent prayer, thanking the heavens for this night. My hand wraps around his shaft and I’m also thankful he’s as hard as he was all those years ago and just as big as I remember.
His fingers slide between my thighs, over the damp cotton of my knickers. “Your pussy’s practically salivating for my big cock, Merry.”
“Move my knickers to the side and give it to me.” I shuffle over him, trying to line him up so I can sink home and get myself off.
His hand fists my hair, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. Now stop talking and fuck me already.”
He yanks my head to his, crashing his mouth against mine. With his other hand between my legs, he tears the cotton of my knickers as he pulls the gusset aside and drives into me from the bottom.
It takes my breath away as he fills me in one swift thrust. I undo the last button on his shirt and pull it apart so I can run my hands over his inked chest.
Rocking our bodies together, I’m lost in the heat of the moment. Nothing else matters but chasing this high. The world forgotten, along with all our issues. I know this is going to complicate our relationship, but that’s a problem for future me. Right now, I’m going to milk his delicious cock for all its worth and enjoy tonight.
He pants and groans against my lips, nipping and sucking. We’re all teeth and tongues as we claim each other.
