47. April
Chapter 47
April
Three months later …
B asil lets out a long, mournful howl from the back seat and I turn, reaching an arm around to settle him. I poke my fingers through his carrier, scratching his chin through the bars.
“It’s alright, buddy. We’re almost there,” I reassure him. He looks up at me with those wide, adorable eyes, thumping his tail against his plastic prison.
“What’s that God-awful smell?” James asks, steering the car with one hand while covering his nose with the other.
“Oh no.” I squint, trying to peek inside Basil’s carrier. “I think he’s done a poo.”
James groans, his eyes narrowing as he glares in the rearview mirror. “I swear, that cat has a serious shitting problem.”
“He’s sensitive,” I say, defending Basil’s honour. I swivel in my seat, laughing at James as he gags, winding down his window.
“It’s freezing, James! Don’t put the window down!”
We’re currently en route to Caroline and Peter’s home in Toton for Christmas. We decided to head over on Christmas Eve so we can wake up together on Christmas morning, instead of spending most of the holiday stuck in horrendous traffic. Caroline is completely obsessed with Basil, so I can’t wait to reunite them—he stayed with her and Peter often when Lucas and I went on holiday. Speaking of Lucas, I believe he’ll be there when we arrive.
As awkward as it might be, it’s time to face things head-on and get it over with. James and I are in love, and we’re together. That won’t change, and Lucas will just have to get used to it. He made his decision, and now he has to live with the consequences.
He’s alone.
At his parents’ house.
On Christmas.
“But it stinks!” James fires back.
“We’re almost there. It’ll be over soon,” I say. After a beat of silence, we give in to the laughter. James is laughing so hard he almost steers the car off the bloody road. I pull my jumper sleeve over my hand and rest it against my nose, breathing the sweet scent of my perfume clinging to the fibres.
After a half hour of basking in shite, we arrive.
Fairy lights line the windowsills, and giant candy canes protrude from the garden beds, making the house look warm and inviting with holiday cheer. James pulls up to the kerb, and we both race to unbuckle our seat belts, eager to get out of the car. I swing my door open, taking in a deep breath of the fresh, crisp winter air.
James rounds the car, opening the back door and carefully lifting Basil’s carrier. Raising it to eye level, he shakes his head, grinning. “You dirty bastard,” he says, and Basil lets out a low meow in response.
The front door swings open, and Caroline hurries out, arms wide. I beam, unable to hold back my excitement. “Caroline!”
“Merry Christmas, honey!” she exclaims, enveloping me in one of her firm hugs.
“Merry Christmas,” I return, rubbing her back affectionately before stepping away. James moves towards her, bending slightly to kiss her hello as she reaches for Basil’s carrier. A distinct, unpleasant odour wafts through the air, making us all pause.
“Oh!” Caroline cries, wrinkling her nose and waving a hand in front of her face. “What’s that God-awful smell?”
I giggle, sharing a glance with James. “Basil pooed in his carrier.”
She clicks her tongue, peering down at Basil’s guilty little face. “You’re lucky you’re cute!” she scolds before tottering back towards the house. We follow her inside where we’re immediately wrapped in comforting warmth. The scent of roast chicken, potatoes, and gingerbread fills the air, creating a delightfully cosy atmosphere.
As I shrug off my coat, heavy footsteps fall from the staircase. We’re staying for three nights before heading back home, so I cross my fingers, hoping for a miracle. I hang up my coat and turn, finding myself face-to-face with Lucas. I have to crane my neck to look up at him. A flicker of hurt crosses his face before it’s quickly replaced with indifference.
With a steadying breath, I decide to be the bigger person and step forward, opening my arms for him. I’m shaking from the nerves; our last encounter was less than amicable, so I can’t deny that seeing him in this setting puts me a little on edge.
“Hi, Lucas. Happy Christmas,” I say.
He hesitates for a second before stepping into the embrace. I catch the familiar scent of citrus and pepper. It’s nostalgic. For a moment it feels as if I’ve travelled back to another time.
The feel and smell of him are still comforting in a small way, like an old song that evokes memories of a time once filled with happiness and love. It’s a part of me that won’t ever disappear— I might revisit it sometimes, but it will never feel quite the same as it did the first time I heard it.
“Merry Christmas, April,” he replies calmly. But I know him well enough to detect a hint of sadness and maybe … resignation?
Someone clears their throat behind us, and I spin on my heels to find James standing there. I freeze, rooted to the spot, my gaze darting between the two brothers. James moves first, exhaling a heavy breath before stepping forward and extending his hand. I watch as Lucas’s jaw tightens, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face, before he gives a small nod and accepts the handshake.
“Lucas,” James says, measured and serious.
“James,” Lucas stiffly replies.
And that’s it.
James places a possessive hand on the small of my back before guiding me towards the kitchen where Caroline’s fussing about with gravy and Peter is carving the chicken.
The kitchen spans the entire rear of the small house. It opens into a cosy glass sunroom where an oakwood dining table sits nestled beside expansive French doors. The doors open out to the backyard, filling the space with natural light. The kitchen itself exudes a charming, well-kept 1990s feel, with dark wooden cabinets and cream laminate countertops. It’s dated but comfortable and welcoming, fitting Caroline and Peter perfectly.
The kitchen counter overflows with beautiful food—crispy roast potatoes cooked in succulent duck fat, a creamy broccoli and cauliflower bake, and perfectly golden, homemade Yorkshire puddings. Roasted Dutch carrots are tossed with fresh coriander, sultanas, and crumbles of goat cheese, alongside a rich chestnut stuffing that fills the air with a delicious nutty aroma.
“This looks fantastic, Caroline. Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer, practically salivating over the spread.
She waves her tea towel in the air dismissively. “Oh no, honey. We’re almost done here. Please”—she gestures to the dining table— “have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. You’ve travelled a long way. Peter can fix you a drink.”
I watch as Peter strolls over to the small wine rack by the fridge, pulling out an unlabelled bottle. Turning to us with a smile, he extends the bottle. “I made some Mourvèdre. Would either of you fancy a glass?”
“Yes, please,” James and I say in unison.
James slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close.
Looking out the window, I spot Basil’s carrier—thankfully placed outside—and Basil, happily making himself at home in the garden. He sniffs the plants, then flops down, rolling around in the garden bed.
I catch sight of Lucas gliding by, heading straight for Basil. A soft smile spreads across my face as I watch their little exchange. Basil rolls onto his chubby legs and trots over to Lucas’s outstretched hand, rubbing against him affectionately. I’m happy they’ll still have the chance to see each other, I know how much Lucas loved Basil.
Early dinner is served, and we settle into comfortable conversation, though Lucas remains largely silent. He’s seated directly opposite and is too busy watching James’s hand when he touches me, eyes narrowed and posture tense.
“So, James, what date do you set off on tour?” Peter inquires.
I turn to James, who’s absolutely beaming. Atlas Veil won the audition, landing the opening act for Bound to Oblivion’s European and UK tour. James quit his labouring job immediately. I’m so incredibly proud of and excited for him. He talks animatedly about the cities they’ll visit, the venues, the chance to perform on a massive stage night after night. James’s entire face lights up, and it brings me so much joy and happiness seeing him like this.
Lucas fiddles with his cutlery as Caroline and Peter fire question after question at James, sharing in his achievements.
This is his moment.
The sun retreats and the evening passes easily, aside from a few terse glares and quiet brooding from Lucas, which James and I do our best to ignore. We stay focused on enjoying the night instead, especially as we have three to get through. I curl up on the sofa with a book as Peter gets the fireplace in the lounge going, the flames roaring to life and filling the room with cosy heat. The fire crackles and pops, bathing the room in an amber glow.
Lucas disappeared to his room as soon as I settled on the sofa, which is perfectly fine with me. Basil is curled up on the blanket draped across James’s lap next to me, my cat’s eyes fixed on James as he enjoys a piece of Caroline’s gingerbread.
I reach a particularly spicy scene in my book and feel my cheeks pinken. James notices, leaning to read the page I’m clearly blushing over. With a devious smirk, he scoops up Basil and sets him gently on the blanket, then extends a hand to me, pulling me out of my seat with a heated look.
“We’re going to bed,” he announces.
“Right, love. Night, night! We’ll see you lot in the morning,” Caroline calls out from the kitchen. James wastes no time, practically dragging me upstairs. When we reach the landing, he scoops me up and pushes open the guest bedroom door, striding towards the bed. He sets me down on top of the covers, his pupils dilated. I drop my gaze to the obvious tent in his trousers and lean back on both hands.
“We have to be quiet. Lucas is right next door!” I whisper-shout.
James smirks in response and locks the door. Cheeky.
“Clothes. Off,” he says, his voice low and firm. I obey, making a show of it, trailing my hands slowly down my jumper to the hem. I lift it over my head and let it fall aside before reaching back to unclasp my bra, slipping it off and tossing it to the floor. My breasts fall free, and James’s eyes darken as he rubs a hand over his erection.
Biting my lip, I pop the button on my jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly then shimmy out. He hums his approval, pulling his own jumper over his head, his gaze never leaving mine. I watch hungrily, the veins in his forearms rippling and the muscles in his legs flexing as he undresses.
He stands in his briefs. If sex had a humanoid form, it would be James.
“Spread your legs.”
I drop my knees.
“Touch yourself.”
“James.” My eyes dart to the wall separating us from Lucas. “Your brother, he’s?—”
“Ignore him,” he says.
I part myself with two fingers, showing him everything. Sliding my fingers through my slickness, I begin rubbing slow, tantalising circles over my clit, my breath hitching as I work myself over. He grunts his approval.
I feel so exposed—I’ve never done this in front of anyone before—but the thought of getting myself off in front of him, combined with the scandalous possibility of my ex hearing only increases my excitement. It makes me wetter.
I moan. “I want you to touch me.”
“Not yet,” he says, his voice low.
I continue circling my clit before slowly pushing two fingers in my pussy, one hand working outside, the other plunging inside, fucking myself. I pick up my pace, and my head falls back against the pillows as a long, needy whimper escapes me.
Okay. Lucas definitely would have heard that.
“Who owns the pussy you’re touching, April?” James asks, my eyes snap to his as he slides his briefs down.
“You,” I breathe out, pumping and rubbing my fingers.
His cock stands thick and proud, and he fists the base, giving a slow, deliberate pump, precum glistening at the head. The sight drives me even wilder. He watches me with a feral gaze.
“That’s right,” he says, climbing on top of me. “You’re fucking beautiful, April.”
I continue to rub my G-spot. “Please.”
“Lie back, sweetheart,” he orders. I pull my fingers away, letting my arms fall back over my head as I grip the sheets. He lowers himself onto his elbows, bracing on either side of my head, shifting his hips until he’s perfectly lined up with my entrance. His cock rubs through my slit and I rock my hips. I wrap my legs around his waist, digging my heels into his buttocks, urging him forward.
He chuckles. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes. Please. I need you,” I whimper.
“How do you want me?” he growls. I hum in response, barely able to form words. “Do you want it hard, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” I pant.
He slides into me. His eyes hood as he begins to move, hard and fast, pumping a rhythm that leaves me arching beneath him, a helpless sound escaping my lips. A soft sheen of sweat glistens on our bodies as we move in sync.
“God, I’ll never get over how tight you are,” he says.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I whisper, my voice breathless as I feel the hot build of my orgasm. The bed creaks with each thrust, and I drape my arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to crush his lips against mine. My orgasm begins to swell, and I dig my fingers into his shoulders.
“Are you gonna come, April? Right here with my brother next door? Do you want him to hear me fucking you?”
Good God. That’s all it takes to send me over the edge. I grip his biceps tightly as my climax crashes over me and I spasm around his cock.
When the waves finally subside, he flips us over so he’s on his back, guiding me to straddle his thighs. My skin is flushed from the orgasm. I grip his cock, lowering myself onto him once more. We both grunt as I sink down, taking him fully.
I plant my hands on his broad chest as I start rocking my hips and bouncing up and down on top of him, his thick cock hitting that sensitive spot inside me with every thrust. He grips my hips in a bruising hold as I gyrate on top of him. He slides a hand down, his fingers dipping into the wetness where we’re joined. Then, he brings those calloused fingers up to my clit, circling it slowly. I gasp as I ride him, feeling the muscles in his thighs tense beneath me.
The sensation of him filling me is too good.
He grunts, his breathing ragged. “I’m close, baby. So close.”
“Me too.” I pant, the tension coiling tightly in my stomach. He continues drawing circles over me. I arch my back, climaxing again. Lifting my hips, he ruts into me, hard and fast, chasing his own release. With a long, guttural groan, he shudders, emptying himself inside me.
Once we’re both fully spent, I drape myself over him, chest to chest, and bury my face in the curve of his neck. His hands trail slowly up and down my back, causing me to shiver. He kisses my temple, then whispers, “I love you so much.”
I pull back slightly, studying his face, taking in every detail of him in all his masculine glory. “I love you too,” I whisper.
He brushes a stray lock of hair from my face, his eyes soft. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
Smiling, I place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Merry Christmas, James.”