‘Well, you were the worst lay I ever had,’ I lie.
Unoffended, he laughs merrily. ‘Time to make amends, then.’
‘Don’t you fucking dare come near me,’ I warn. I realize instantly that there is not enough threat and too much desperation in my voice.
His eyes glint, dark and dirty. They make me horribly uneasy. I’m not in charge here. We stare at each other and the rush of sexual heat that sweeps over my body makes me feel oddly dizzy. The memory of his touch still burns in my bones. Unable to speak I stare foolishly at him. The truth is I’m pissed off with this guy for not calling after he promised to, for making me sleep with my phone for nearly a month, for confusing the hell out of my sexuality, and for having a girlfriend who is the exact opposite of me, but as the seconds pass, I am not sure anymore if I am more pissed off with him or with myself for being so pathetic.
The problem is that my pulse is racing and I can’t think past the aching throb between my legs. I take slow breaths as my body, the hyperaware Judas, remembers and replays the sensation of all the hard planes, the raw silk of his skin, and the absolute perfection of that one night we shared.
I blink. Big mistake.
He advances, his lips twitching with amusement.
I step backwards, purely instinctive, and he takes another step, and so do I, but in the opposite direction. A warm flush spreads over my skin. All kinds of thoughts are running through my brain. Uppermost: of course he’s going to get what he came for. I can already feel his hand on my hips, and the lure of a seriously explosive orgasm. He got me the last time through the same fearlessness of consequences he is exhibiting now. No fear of rejection. Such naked confidence can be mind-numbingly seductive.
He turned my no into a maybe and my maybe into a yes.
And afterwards, when the curiosity and desire had been aroused inside me, he delivered big. I mean BIG. I told myself that I had gone with him because I loved that he did not have a prejudged idea of beauty. He found my spider tattoos beautiful! But the truth was/is, he intrigues me like no other. My body is already craving it. It’s only sex, Billie, I tell myself.
I stop retreating when I feel the hard edge of the table against my buttocks. He takes his next step silently. With his hands around my neck he tilts my face upwards and swoops down on my mouth. Sweet mother, Mary. So bad, and so hot. My will is slipping away. What will? It’s been a long time. A long time. Bloody hell. He tastes so fuckin’ good I want to eat him. I get lost in the raving desire that comes in waves from his mouth into mine.
For a few more pulse-ripping seconds his lips bruise mine, a clash of teeth and lips and tongues. It is brutal, arousing, and totally feral. And then I tear my mouth off. The insides of my mouth are still stinging. He is strong, I’ll give him that. Very fucking strong. And that arrogant tilt to his chin. Like he should be in a vampire movie. Like he’s never heard the word no.
‘So you don’t think I’m cute?’
‘If you like psychos.’
He grins and lifts me up by the waist as if I am a doll and deposits me on the table. My legs dangle off the edge. With both his hands he rips open my nightshirt. The tearing sound is deliciously erotic. Nobody has done this to me before. Underneath I am butt naked. His eyes drop to my breasts. With a slow smile he cups them in his hands.
‘I wasn’t wrong last night: you’ve had them done,’ he growls and pushes his tongue into my mouth. The man’s an animal and I love it.
His tongue drives in as I suck it enthusiastically. So different from a woman’s tongue. So demanding. So muscular. Suddenly his mouth leaves mine, and a complaining mewl escapes me. Watching me like a hawk he bends down to take a nipple in his mouth and sucks at it cruelly. I close my eyes and moan. His hands move lower. He spreads his fingers into the thatch of light brown curls.
‘A hairy girl is hard to come by these days,’ he murmurs. ‘You’re one in a million, Billie.’
‘Fuck you.’
He runs his fingers along the slit. I am embarrassingly soaking wet for him. One finger dips inside.
‘Yes,’ I gasp. Even that one word sounds incoherent. I want more.
He plunders my mouth. Slowly the finger inside me becomes two and then three. The stretch is delicious, but I want more. I need more. And holy fucking shit, I know where there is smoking more. I reach for his belt.
‘You’re throbbing for release,’ he whispers huskily as he pulls away from me and splays my legs open. He watches me, his heavy-lidded eyes roaming my thrown back throat, my excited nipples, my legs spread so wide he has a full view of my pussy dripping and swollen for him.
He tears open the condom foil and then unbuttons the top button of his bulging jeans. The zip comes down and he takes out his cock. This is the thing about us lesbians. We’re used to big toys, but this boy’s toy—it struts right out at a right angle to his body. In its own way it is an aggressive angry thing with large veins. I’m not really sure if I consider it attractive. Certainly it is not pretty the way a pussy is, but there is something wild about it. Something animalistic and caveman-like.
I watch while he sheathes it and obligingly open my legs wider when he plunges the raincoated thing straight into me. That scream. It came from my mouth! His large strong hands are underneath my bum tilting me upwards. Whoa…this is an attack! I wrap my legs around him and he fucks me like a wild man, furious.
We are a violent, hot tangle. I writhe and claw at him, but he rams into me until I come, quick and hard. The world shatters beautifully and becomes more perfect than before. Almost immediately he does too with a growl and expletives. Fucking like this exposes the darkest part of the soul. I bet his girlfriend doesn’t see this.
I grasp the firm globes of his buttocks. We are both panting hard. We have sinned. Now that I am sated I am back to my rather inelegant situation.
‘And you thought you were a lesbian,’ he says with such a smug smile that I slap him, so hard his head jerks back.
‘That’s the first time…’ he mutters.
I raise a disbelieving eyebrow.
‘I’ve been slapped by a woman while I’m still inside her.’
I use both my hands to push him away from me, but I might as well have been pushing at a brick wall. The hands cupping my buttocks are like steel manacles.
‘You’ve had your fun. Now get out of my home,’ I force between clenched teeth.
'I’m still horny.’
I tingle at the promise his words hold. I glare at him. ‘We all have our afflictions and addictions.’
Suddenly I have the fierce and surprising urge to mark him. To let her know that he has been with me. I want to claim him and then I forget about it when he sucks my tongue into his mouth. Too urgent to be gentle. Then his mouth moves, warm and wet against the side of my neck. I know what he’s doing. He’s sucking on my tattoos, on the blue spiders. He takes his mouth away and looks at them.
‘How did you find me?’ I ask.
‘Not easily,’ he confesses. ‘I had to shell out a thousand quid. Must be nice not paying your own bills.’
I ignore the jibe. I’m not about to explain anything to him. ‘What happened to last night’s posh and world-weary murmur?’
He grins.
‘When I first met you, you had a BBC accent. Last night it was decidedly posh and today a trace of Australian has slithered in. Will the real Jaron Rose please stand up?’
‘This is the real Jaron Rose.’
‘Are you going to fucking get your dick out of me?’
‘I will but first let me tell you what you’re going to be doing tomorrow. At three thirty p.m. sharp you will bend over this table, your elbows and hands and cheek pressed against the glass, your ass in the air barely covered by lace and transparent material. You will be wearing thongs. The rims will become soaked very quickly and you will consider using your sweating hands to masturbate to relieve the ache, but you will not. You will keep that position, nipples and cunt tingling, and wait. The high heels you’ll be wearing will make your calves cramp, but you will ignore it.’