Twenty-Three
I decide the best thing to do is to try to stick to activities that are not sexual at all. And especially when sex now also seems to lead to even further feelings, up to and including:
Your dreams are valid.
Having a supportive partner is amazing and possible.
It’s okay to be yourself and share that with someone else.
All of which seem a little after-school special for me. I’m not here to grow as a person and fall in love. I’m here to save Beck from disaster, then help him sail off into the sunset with someone who didn’t make him come yesterday afternoon by fucking him somewhere that I’m not sure he was ready to be fucked.
I mean, he called me a sex genius afterwards.
But he’s hardly the best judge of that.
So it’s time to really just rein things in. And I do that by suggesting a lot more Scrabble, on an evening. Even though suggesting a lot more Scrabble on an evening is super hard. He stops me the first time I try by lazing back across the bed, with his arm curled around his head. Thighs lolling apart. Hand actually framing what he’s got, like that demon he talked about really has inhabited his body.
‘Are you sure you want to do that?’ he asks. ‘I thought we could do something else, instead.’ Then it’s hours of me doing incredibly rude things to his cock with my mouth, while he does the same to my pussy. And both of us coming so noisily we actually get Tammy knocking on the door and asking if we’re all right.
Which is how I stay strong the second time I suggest we go down to game night. One day later, and wiser. ‘Look, they know something is off,’ I say to him. ‘We can’t keep loudly fucking each other like we just discovered fucking each other five minutes ago.’
And he sighs. But he puts his trousers back on.
We go downstairs and do normal things, like gather bowls of crisps and dip, and set up the board, and say how our day went. Doug calls this game wet , and says we should play something else. Tammy wonders if we have Hungry Hungry Hippos. Everything is going swimmingly.
Until we start the actual game.
Then it’s just us staring at each other lustily across the board. Not to mention spelling out dirty words. I put down cock so it runs into the word suck , just to make him blush.
And it works.
He flushes and goes all adorably restless-looking. As if something is making sitting just a little bit more uncomfortable – and I have zero problems guessing what that something is. He’s hard, pretty obviously. And I think he gets harder, when I let my finger sink a little farther into my mouth than it really needs to go, after I get a little salsa on it while trying to eat a chip.
Mainly because he mouths the word stop at me.
Though of course I know he doesn’t really mean it. His mouth is quivering at the corners when he does it, like he’s trying to hold back the most mischievous grin. Then he plays his word, with that mischief still lighting his gaze.
And the word is cunt .
So now I’m the one with wide eyes.
I’m the one all flushed and squirming. Much to his glee. Oh, he is the most gleeful I’ve ever seen him. Like he knows he’s getting good at this game now, and wants to show off those skills. All of which I love for him, truly I do. I don’t mean to think too much about him learning those skills with me, and using them to build a dream relationship with someone else.
But I do.
And I know he sees my face fall a little. He gets this little concerned line between his brows, and tries to redo his word. ‘Actually I’ve changed my mind about that,’ he says, but of course I have to stop him. I put my hand over his.
‘No, I like it,’ I tell him, because I don’t want him to think him being this deliciously horny person is a bad thing. But I also can’t really communicate what the problem was. All I can do is squeeze his fingers, which turns into caressing his fingers, and finally it just sort of feels like we’re fondling each other. His thumb strokes over mine; the backs of his fingers trail around and underneath my palm. And I do it back, of course I do. It feels too great to not. It sends tingles up my arm – and not just because it’s sexy.
It’s also because it’s so affectionate.
I’m seriously starting to love affection, from him. And to want to be affectionate back, in whatever clumsy, awkward way I can manage. Though unfortunately for me, I try that for the first time while the worst man in the world is busy watching us.
‘What the hell are you two doing ?’ he wants to know.
Even worse, Tammy chimes in. ‘Oh em gee, it’s like you’re newlyweds . Holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes. Doing all those things we heard you doing yesterday,’ she says, in the sweetest and most innocent way. She practically chirps it. Mostly because she has no idea that she’s completely fucking us.
Then Beck just fucks us even harder.
‘We didn’t get up to anything, there was no sex at all, I was just coughing really loudly while trying to move the bed into a better position, and anyway you don’t know anything,’ he storms out, like the guiltiest man to ever live. Even worse – he gets immediately nauseous afterwards. He has to excuse himself while Doug looks on with this smirk on his face. And I want to punch it right off his skull, but I can’t. Because I’ve got to go after my pretend husband.
‘Beck,’ I say, and run to catch him.
I get him, halfway up the stairs.
I grab his arm and I look at him with what I know is some mixture of concern and probable longing. It must be, because he turns, and he sees me, and he just pulls me into his arms. His hand actually goes into my hair; he turns my face up to his. And he kisses me, he kisses me, he kisses me, in a way that reminds me why I banned it.
It leaves me breathless, speechless. It should be illegal for actually nice guys to sweep you into a kiss that passionate , I find myself thinking, because oh, the amount of sense and reason it immediately erases. I don’t think about my careful plans, my elaborately constructed way out of this. There’s no thought about how to resist, or to make it go away. The only thing I want to make go away is the feeling that he soon won’t be mine.
So I just say: ‘Maybe we should go for a drive.’
Then for good measure I slide my hand down his body, until I find something that makes him go up on tiptoe. And I try not to feel bad when he agrees.