Текст книги "The Play"
Автор книги: Karina Halle
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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 28 страниц)
“I love you.”
I kiss her neck.
“I love you.”
I kiss the swell of her breasts.
And then my hands are sliding down her body and I’m turning on top of her and I’m ravenous and starved for every bit of love I can possibly get.
We move in slow motion, through honey, and it’s slow and sweet. I pull down her underwear and push inside of her and she opens up to me like she’s letting me in for the first time. Her legs wrap around my waist like she’s never going to let go.
And I want to believe that she won’t let go.
That she’s not leaving me in two weeks.
I’m not sure the human heart is built to be so capable. How can it handle the joy of finally loving someone, the ecstasy of finally receiving love, while still being so fearful of the pain that’s yet to come?
Because that pain is coming.
How much longer can we ignore it?
“Stay with me,” I whisper to her as I thrust in deep.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says breathlessly, neck arched, head back. Such a bloody goddess.
But that’s not what I mean.
It doesn’t take me long to come and when I do, our eyes are locked and I feel myself slipping more and more and more. Into the past. Into the future. I’m losing myself completely and I just don’t know which way I’ll end up, if I’ll even be whole in the end.
I rest my weight on my elbows, my head down against the pillow while she gently touches my back.
“Stay with me,” I say again, voice rough with exertion. “Don’t go home.”
She tenses up beside me, her hands stilling at my shoulders. “Don’t go home?”
“Quit your job. Move here. Be with me.”
I can’t believe I’m even saying this to her but it’s too late now. She wants all of me, she’ll have all of me.
“Lachlan,” she says warily. “I can’t just do that.”
I pull my head back to look at her. “Why not?”
She frowns. “Because! I…I worked hard for the job I have.”
“You hate your job.”
“But it’s still my job. What would I do here? I can’t get a job.”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“Yeah but that’s easy for you to say. I’ve spent my whole life working for what I have, aren’t I supposed to stick with it? It’s crazy to give that all up.”
“That’s not what’s crazy. Crazy is never branching out, crazy is never living up to your potential, never discovering what it is in life that makes your heart beat just a bit faster. Kayla, who you are and who you think you should be are two very different things.”
She looks at me pleadingly. “Then who am I?”
“You’re you, love. And you know what you want to do. Jessica said she would help you with the writing.”
“Yeah,” she says. “For free. Writing for free. How do I live until my portfolio or whatever gets big enough to even get me a job?”
“I could – ”
She pushes her finger against my mouth. “And don’t tell me that you could support me. I know you can and you would, but I wouldn’t accept it. That’s not how I’m built. I do things on my own.”
I shake my head at her stubbornness. “I could help you be employed. You could work at the shelter, like Amara.”
“Amara says that you can barely afford to pay her,” she tells me and that makes me grimace, because I know that’s true. “You couldn’t afford me, too.”
“I could,” I tell her. “My flat in London, I would sell it if I had to.”
“No, no way. No way would I let you do that for me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m…you barely know me. I’m not worth it.”
I sigh, my eyes pinching shut. “Please don’t say that. Don’t say that I don’t know you when all I do is feel like I’ve known you my whole bloody life. Don’t give me that and don’t tell me you’re not worth it. That’s up to me to decide, isn’t it?”
She looks away, blinking. “I don’t want you to do anything for me.”
“Well that’s tough luck ain’t it, love, because if you want to stay with me, I will do whatever I bloody can to make sure you can stay here. So just give me the word. Give me the damn word and you can stay here for as long as you like.”
“It would be crazy,” she says quietly.
“And love makes you do crazy things. Or so they say, but I’m starting to think every fucking cliché about it is true. So just own up to it. Embrace it. Be crazy and do those things that are just a little bit nuts.”
“I…I can’t, Lachlan.”
I groan, my hands gripping the pillow. I know I’m being completely fucking selfish asking her to give up everything to stay here with me. I know it.
“If I could move to San Francisco,” I say slowly.
“No way,” she says.
“You really don’t want to be around me do you?”
She grabs my chin and makes me look at her. “Listen to me,” she says, her eyes flashing. “You’re right in that I don’t have a lot to give up at home.”
“I never said that.”
“It’s true,” she says. “I do have a job I don’t like and that I fantasize about quitting. And while I do have my friends I would miss dearly, and my family who I love more than anything…I don’t know if the fear of being away from them is enough to keep me from leaving. But in no way, shape or form are you to even consider coming to California. You have your career here, an actual god damn career, and you have your dogs and your charity and you have so many good things lined up. If anything at all, I will be the one to find a way to stay here.”
My chest aches at the possibility. “Just say the words, please. Tell me that you want to stay, that you’ll try and I promise you, I promise you, I will make it work out.”
She searches my eyes for a moment, working it all out. I can almost see the wheels turning, weighing over each option, much like she did in the car when I invited her here in the first place. That feels like a lifetime ago.
“I need to think about it,” she says. “Give me another week and I’ll know for sure.”
I rub my lips together and nod. “All right,” I tell her, kissing her on the forehead. “Thank you.”
“Now,” she says, smacking me on the ass. “Get out of bed and get to practice. It’s already going to suck that you’re hungover, I don’t want your coach calling me and complaining.”
I nod, that shame from last night creeping up my throat again like bile. I quickly get ready and head out the door in the nick of time. I have to stop at a corner store to get a bottle of Gatorade and some Ibuprofen and spend a few minutes trying to compose myself before I show up at practice.
I’m expecting for everyone to know what went down. Not that the team would really care, but Alan usually lays into us for any misconduct off of the pitch. But everyone is acting as normal, except for Thierry and John of course, who regard me with concern, and no one seems to notice my banged up knuckles or the faint bruise on my jaw from where the guy’s first – and only – punch was thrown.
That has to mean that the guy is alive and well. Still I go to Thierry during the break and pull him aside.
“Hey, thank you for last night,” I tell him quickly, looking around us, keeping my voice low.
He glares at me, shaking his head in disapproval. “You owe me one,” he says in his French accent. “The police showed up and John and I had to make a big elaborate story about how some guy came to our table wanting to fight.”
“You told them it was me?”
“No, I did not,” he says indignantly. “John gladly took the blame. He’s always looking for more street cred. You’re lucky you’re a local hero, you know that? All the witnesses blanked out, agreeing with him. Ugly fucker comes looking for trouble, John beats the shit out of him. End of story.”
I swallow, feeling sick. “How is the guy?”
He shrugs, taking a sip of water. “I don’t know, I wasn’t holding his hand. But he left the bar on his own two feet and before the police showed up, if that makes you feel any better. I think you got away with near murder on this one. What the hell were you thinking?”
I give him a sharp look. “I obviously wasn’t thinking.”
“I know, just…take it easy man. I’m sorry, I should have known better than to bring you to a bar. I thought you were doing better. You were the last time.”
“That was months ago,” I remind him. “And I’m fine,” I add quickly. “I just have a lot going on right now. It’s tripping me up.”
“The girl,” he muses.
“It’s not her fault,” I say harshly. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“But she’s what’s on your mind, what’s tripping you up. No?”
I wiggle my jaw back and forth, trying to relieve the tension. “I’m going through some things. It won’t happen again.”
“Well it better not, Lach,” he says to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Because that girl is in love with you. Believe me, you do not want to fuck that up.”
I squint my eyes at him. “So what really happened in Paris?”
But he just smiles at me and walks away.
I sigh and return to the game.
Being on the rugby pitch has always been the one place where I can put everything behind me, all my past and my future and just live in the present.
But for the rest of practice, I’m as useless as tits on a bull. Maybe it’s the hangover but it’s most likely everything else. The great highs of this morning in bed with Kayla, hearing her say she loves me, having her tell me she might stay, combined with the lows of last night, the shame over my violent behaviour, the way that I must have made her feel. How quickly I went from “one drink will put me at ease” to not having a limit at all.
“McGregor,” Alan yells at me as I’m leaving the pitch. “Smarten up next time. We need you sharp.”
I nod, grunting, and head into the locker room to shower.
I needed to smarten up and fast. For the sake of everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Kayla
“Please stay with me.”
I hear his words over and over again and each time my mind replays it, each time it brings up that look on his face, desperate, needing, my heart is torn in so many directions. How is it possible to feel so alive, so full, at knowing he wants me to stay, at even considering it, while I also want to crumble and weep because it just seems so impossible?
I mean, how could I stay here? Is this something I really want to do?
I know the answer to the last question but the first one needs a lot of work.
“You going to be all right?” Lachlan asks me. His voice is so low, so quiet, that I turn away from the drawing room window and look back at him.
He’s got his duffel bag full of rugby gear slung over his shoulder, brow furrowed in concern. After he told me that he wants me to stay, he’s been acting different around me. Like he’s afraid to say anything more, as if it will set me off and running.
I raise my cup of coffee at him. “I’ve got this. I’ll be good.”
“Weather isn’t very nice,” he says and I look back out the window at the rain streaming down.
I shrug. “Perfect day to stay indoors. I’m sad I won’t see you getting all muddy in the field though.”
“Actually we’re at the track today, conditioning,” he says. “You’re welcome to come.”
I’m not sure that I am, not after the other night. Sometimes I worry that it was me being around his field, around his teammates, that it set him off. I shake my head and give him a small smile. “That’s okay, I have a whole day to lounge around here with the dogs and watch The Vicar of Dibley. Besides, I have to get ready for your gala hoopla and I’ll need a lot of time to get gorgeous.”
His eyes trail up and down my body, at my lacey shorts and thin wifebeater. “You can just wear that, I wouldn’t mind.”
“I’m not sure this outfit would help Ruff Love’s reputation. When will you be back?”
“Half past three, I’m sure.” He licks his lips, seeming like he’s going to say something. Then he just nods at me. “I’ll see you later, love.”
“Bye,” I say softly, watching him leave.
Once the door shuts, I settle down on the couch, pulling a blanket over me, even though it’s not that cold. I just want the comfort.
After a few episodes of watching Dawn French, I decide to pull out my laptop. I log onto my work email, which I admit I haven’t checked since I got here, and scroll through the emails.
To my surprise, they’ve all been dealt with by Candace. I guess Lucy gave her my login info. Nothing is private when you work for someone else and she seems to have taken over the first week of my absence with ease.
Actually, when I’m looking at her replies, it’s quite obvious that she’s doing my job far better than I ever could have. Probably better than I ever will.
And that makes me sad. Like, really sad. And regretful. Not that she’s doing a better job per se, but that the work was so uninteresting to me, that I could never build up enough passion, enough feeling, to care. And if I stayed in this job, like I always expected I would, I would never reach that point where I was giving it my all. Because in the end, it didn’t really matter to me. I looked for joy and purpose outside of it.
Now I’ve found Lachlan. And while he’s not my purpose to life, he’s bringing so much joy, love, every fucking emotion possible that I feel like I’m living in color instead of shades of black and white. What if I could find a job where I could feel a similar kind of joy for the daily work that I did? What if I could find purpose in the things I did every day, find passion that rivaled the passion I felt for him. Who says that only one aspect of your life can be fucking fantastic?
The more I stare at the emails, the more I realize that Candace, for whatever reason, loves doing her job and even more than that, loves doing my job. And I don’t love anything about my job whatsoever. Now that I know what love is, I don’t want to be stuck where it’s absent.
I take in a shaky breath as the realization hits me. I need to find my purpose and my passion. I need to leave my job and take a risk.
I need to stay here, with him, and start again.
But knowing it doesn’t make it happen and doesn’t make it easier.
The fear will always hold you in check.
I check my phone and calculate the time back at home. Everyone is still asleep back in San Francisco. I can’t talk to my mom and ask her what she’d think of me moving here, even though the thought of bringing it up pains me. I can’t talk to Stephanie and Nicola and tell them that I’m in love with him and that he’s in love with me and that even though he’s messed up, I still want to chance it and be with him, permanently.
So I make myself a cup of tea, cuddle up with the dogs and stare out the rain pattered window, as you do when you’re feeling all pensive and moody.
I guess at some point I fall asleep, because I wake up to Lachlan coming in the room and planting a kiss on my forehead.
“Tough day?” he asks lightly.
I glance up at him, his face flushed from running. He looks like the picture of health. It’s hard to imagine just a few days ago he was hungover and burdened by his own shame.
“Yeah, exhausting,” I tell him, stifling a yawn. “Is it already half past three?”
He nods. “Aye but we don’t have to be at the gala until seven. You can keep napping if you want.”
My body does want to nap forever it seems but I’m not missing an opportunity to dress up for his main event. I even went shopping with Amara on Princes Street the other day, looking for the perfect gown. I mean, when else would I ever be able to wear such a thing? Every girl gets a Cinderella moment once in their life and this one was mine. I was going to exploit it for everything that I could.
I get ready slowly, enjoying each moment. The dress I picked up wasn’t that expensive but it looks expensive. It’s floor-length and black, with a high neckline and a back cut down almost to my ass. There are slits up either side to show off my shoes, deciding on my hot pink platforms, just so that I don’t seem too serious about it all.
Once it’s on, I step out of the bedroom and into the drawing room where Lachlan is waiting for me, already dressed. He stands up and we both take a long moment to take each other in. I thought he would have opted for a tux at this event but he’s in a navy blue three-piece suit.
With a kilt.
Dear lord in heaven.
“Oh my god,” I say. He looks like a fucking Highlander ready for a ball before the battle.
“You look stunning,” he says to me, coming over and taking my hand in his making me twirl around. “Jesus bloody hell. I don’t even think I can let you out of the house.”
“You’re not bad yourself,” I tell him, gesturing for him to turn around, “Let’s see all of you.”
He obliges. “Never seen a man in a kilt before?”
“Not other than the bagpipers on the street and I wouldn’t dream of doing this to them.” I reach down and stroke his warm, strong quads, my fingers flipping up the hem of his kilt and going up, up. Up.
I grin. “No underwear, huh,” I say, softly teasing him. He hardens under my touch. “It’s risky to get an erection in this. You’ll be tent-poling it.”
“Tell me about it,” he says gruffly. “But if you don’t stop man-handling me, we’re going to be very, very late for this thing. I’ll make sure of that.”
It’s always tempting, especially when he feels so deliciously hot, long and thick under my hand.
“I’ll make it quick,” I tell him, dropping to my knees and flipping the kilt over my head.
“Bloody hell,” he says with a throaty moan, his fingers curling into my hair as I take as much of him as I can into my mouth. The salty hit of him against my tongue spurs me on, wanting to make his eyes roll back in his head. He’s such a big, masculine man made up of so many dark and damaged parts, but the fact that I can ruin him with my tongue, mouth and hands is addicting beyond anything else.
It doesn’t take long to make him come, shooting nearly straight down the back of my throat.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice straining. “Love, you undo me.”
“Good,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and peering out from beneath the kilt. He’s staring at me with those lazy, hooded eyes and I know I’ve done a good job. His mood has changed from being slightly on edge to at peace. Maybe if I just keep fucking him throughout the event, everything will go smoothly.
“I’m ready to go,” I tell him, standing up. “Told you I’d be quick.”
He shakes his head at me and then impulsively kisses me. I love that he doesn’t care if I’ve just sucked him off or not.
I ask him if he’s going to call a cab for us, but since we’re taking Lionel with us, Amara comes to pick us up in her car. She also looks beautiful in a simple green cocktail dress, her red hair piled high on her head.
“Well aren’t you three the belles of the ball,” she says as we climb in. Even Lionel has a dark leather leash and a tartan bowtie that matches Lachlan’s kilt.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I tell her, proud that I’m the one who suggested her dress to her when we went shopping.
The gala is held at a hotel near the castle so it doesn’t take too long for us to get there, though Amara says she’ll drop us off first and find herself parking after. When I see all the fancy people outside, lining up to get in, I’m nervous. I mean, there’s even a person with a camera taking pictures of everyone as they enter the hotel.
“Is that the paparazzi?” I ask Lachlan.
He looks out the window and grunts, shrugging. Guess he doesn’t know but it does remind me that I told Jessica I’d try and write an article about the event. I bring my phone out of my clutch and check the battery power, making sure there’s enough juice left for me to take some notes and observations about the event. Just that alone makes the situation easier to handle.
I glance at Lachlan, studying his handsome face. He doesn’t necessarily seem nervous but that mellowness in his eyes is gone and he’s observing the world with a level of hardness.
“Hey,” I say softly, feeling nothing but love for him. I grab his hand. “Thank you for inviting me.”
He regards me like I have two heads. “Of course I would invite you. That’s pretty much a given now, isn’t it? Where you go, I go.”
But his words hang in the air for a moment because we both know that’s not exactly true. I wonder, if I asked him to come to San Francisco to be with me, would he do it? Would he give up everything for me? Why couldn’t we both be in a relationship where neither one of us has to sacrifice anything?
The world just doesn’t work that way, I guess. I’m not an expert on love, but from the love I’ve seen around me, it’s not always easy. Nicola had a hell of a time finding a guy – the right guy – before she found Bram, and even then there were some uncomfortable truths she had to come to terms with. Stephanie and Linden were friends forever before they made their stupid pact to each other and then Linden majorly fucked it all up, separating the two for a long time before they both realized they needed each other. And then my mother and father. They seemed to have an epic, fairytale kind of love story but in the end, death pulled them apart. The greatest obstacle of them all, something no relationship can ever overcome.
There was no reason why the road for us should be easy. I just didn’t understand why it had to be so hard. I figured if I ever met someone I loved with my heart and soul, that it would at least run smoothly at first, before the hard obstacles were thrown in the way.
But there is no time for pity and doubt, not now. I’d been with Kyle for years and years, after a long, slow courtship, and I had never ever felt for him what I feel for Lachlan. That alone has made it all worth it.
“Come on, love,” he says to me as Amara puts the car in park. Already the photographer turns his flashbulbs on us.
I freeze but Lachlan puts his hand on the small of my back and leans in to me, whispering, “It’s all right. Just smile. I don’t like it either but it’s just for tonight and it’s all a good cause. Think of the dogs.”
I think of Lionel as I step out to the sidewalk, Lachlan pulling me to his side, arm around my waist, staring stoically at the cameras. Lionel sidles between us and at the lightest command from Lachlan, sits down, hamming for the flashbulbs too.
I have to admit, it’s hard not to smile when you’re on the arm of this man, especially when people are yelling his name. I know that being the centre of attention is the last thing that Lachlan wants too, but he handles it with so much ease it surprises me.
He doesn’t waste too much time though before he whisks me inside the hotel, Lionel trotting proudly beside him.
It’s crazy inside. There are fancy-dressed people everywhere and even though I know I look the part, I sure don’t feel the part. This is part of some society that I’ve never belonged to and it’s only Lachlan’s vice-like grip on my hand that keeps me sane. In fact, he only lets go to shake the hand of someone and other than that, he’s holding onto me.
I can’t remember anyone’s names. I spot Thierry, John and a few other rugby players in different parts of the venue, and later we see Amara, Jessica and Donald, but other than that, all the people I meet blur into one. It’s pretty obvious right away that a lot of them don’t really care about the animals, or about Lachlan in particular. They just want to be seen doing the right thing in front of the right people. But charity for the wrong reasons is still charity and whatever can help the dogs is always a good thing.
I have to say, I’m completely smitten by the way Lachlan treats me. I was really worried about this event, more so than I admitted to myself. But he hasn’t had a thing to drink, while I swill champagne and feel guilty about it, he drinks sparkling water with lime and that’s it. While he’s approached by people again and again and again, he always introduces me first as his girlfriend. He pulls me into conversations, never leaves me out of them, always has his hand in mine or around my waist. He makes me as part of his world as possible, as if I’m a permanent fixture, as if I always have been.
And I can’t help but stare at him with big, googly eyes. If I was a cartoon, I would have hearts in them and I would be constantly sighing and I’m sure I look no different to someone watching me from afar. I am smitten, hanging onto his succinct words in that elegant brogue, the way he focuses on each and every person with those magnetic eyes of him, holding them in his stare. I know that he’s doing this because he has to, that he’s not usually so personable, but he’s just so damn good at it that he fools even me.
Throughout the night I fall more in love with him. I swear if you look close enough, you’ll see my heart beneath my rib cage, bursting at the seams. I can’t stop smiling. I don’t want to ever stop smiling.
At some point a band starts playing and Lachlan hands Lionel over to Amara and pulls me over to the dance floor.
“You dance?” I ask him as he wraps his arms around me, Lana Del Rey’s “Young and Beautiful” starting to play.
“Not a bit,” he admits with a smile I feel down in my toes. “But I can fake it for a few steps.”
Okay, well maybe dancing isn’t one of Lachlan’s hidden talents. The man can’t be good at everything. But he does a good job of faking it and at least he doesn’t step on my toes.
We stay on the dance floor for more than a few songs. I’m in no hurry to return to schmoozing and I assume Lachlan isn’t either. That’s probably why we’re dancing for so long.
“I just wanted you to myself,” he says, burying his face in my hair. It’s like he read my mind.
“How much longer does this gala go for? I mean, when do you usually leave?” I ask him, staring at the other elegant partygoers gliding past us.
“I’m usually the last one standing,” he says. “I don’t want to be that guy who throws a party, asks for money, and then leaves.”
“No, that’s not you. Then we’ll stay till the end.”
“Till the very end,” he says.
The Beatles “All My Loving” comes on and he holds me tighter to him, his hands brushing down the length of my bare back and holding the small of my waist. He very faintly sings the lyrics in my ears and I close my eyes, letting the words sink deep, letting the moment last for as long as it possibly can. Everyone else drifts away and it’s me and him and a world built for two.
“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers, the roughness of his cheek pressed against mine. “So in love. There is no bottom. I just keep falling.”
I’m falling too. But my heart has grown wings. It threatens to carry me forever and each time I’m dropped, careening toward the abyss, it will pick me up again.
I never thought it could be like this.
I never want it to be any other way.
“I love you,” I say softly, my voice choking as all that emotion climbs up my throat, almost overtaking me. “I can’t leave you. I won’t leave you. I want to stay.”
The words are unplanned and take me by surprise, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t true.
His upper body stiffens, his steps becoming slower. He pulls his head back and eyes me carefully. “Are you being serious?”
I swallow and nod. “Yes,” I tell him, staring deep in his eyes. “Yes, yes. I want to stay. I can’t bear the thought of losing you, leaving you. I can’t go back to the life I had, not after this life here, as brief as it has been. I know what I want and I want you.”
He stops moving and cups my face in his hands and I can feel his strength seep into my skin. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” he says, shaking his head. “No idea. No idea.” He kisses me hard, passionately and fingers sink into my hair, his forehead resting against mine. “I will give you everything you need. I will be everything you need me to be. I’ll take care of you.”
I’m about to protest that I don’t need a man to take care of me, but I clamp my mouth shut and don’t say a word. Because I do need Lachlan, at least in terms of my heart, and I also know how much it matters sometimes to just feel needed. I want him to feel that, to know that I need him as much as he needs me.
“I know you will,” I eventually say. “You’re my man.”
He breathes heavily into my neck, almost a gasp. “I’m going to make you so happy.”
“You do make me happy,” I tell him truthfully. “Sometimes I don’t think it can possibly get better but then it turns out there is more room in my heart than I thought.”
He sighs blissfully, holding me closer for a few moments. Then he whispers, “We need to find a room,” and his voice is back to that warm, growly tone that makes my panties wet in a second. Hell yes, we need to find a room. All these proclamations of love need somewhere to go.
He takes my arm and strides across the dance floor, shoulders back, taking long, wide steps, like he’s the King of everything. My eyes are peeled for a cloakroom as we dodge people here and there, especially avoiding Jessica because she doesn’t need to know what we’re about to do. We disappear around the corner, past the hotel reception, and find the washroom. It’s the best that we can do.
He pulls me into it, looks back and forth down the hall to make sure no one saw us, then locks the door.
I’m backed up against the sink, my hands resting on the edges, waiting for his onslaught.
But he doesn’t attack me, at least not right away. He just stares at me and our eyes are locked with each other.
“What?” I whisper to him, afraid to break the spell.
He tilts his head to the side, observing me, frowning, as if I am some riddle he’s trying to solve.
“Did you mean it?” he asks. “When you said you would stay?”
It nearly hurts that he sounds so doubtful. “Of course I did. I meant every word.”
“Do you promise?” he asks, stepping toward me, leaning forward with both hands on the edge of the sink.
I hold out my pinky finger. “I pinky swear.”
He dismisses it with a glance. “Nah, that’s rubbish. Your word is more than enough.” He brushes my hair behind my ears. “I want to make you feel as incredible as you make me feel.”
He grabs my hips and hoists me up so that I’m balanced on the edge of the sink, my hands gripping the sides to keep me steady. He tugs my dress up and over my ass, then crouches down, his head between my legs.
I barely have time to compose myself, to prepare. He’s at me like he’s starving, his fingers sliding me apart, his tongue and mouth so soft and warm. I feel every sensation like a hammer, each stroke a hit, radiating outward.
I want so much from him. I want him deep inside, all of him. But among his satisfied groans and his hungry sounds, I know he just wants to devour me. He wants me to have as much pleasure as he can humanely bring me, because he isn’t sure that he’s doing enough, making me feel enough.
