Chapter Thirty-Four
Thirty-Four
He lifts me, both big hands cupping my bum, as I wrap my legs around his middle.
He walks me back into the flat, kicking the door closed with his foot.
I drop a hand, fisting it in his t-shirt, his muscular back firm against my knuckles.
I want to explore every inch of this gorgeous man.
And thankfully, he seems to get the hint, heading towards my bedroom.
“I swear to God,” I manage to say between kisses, “if you reject me now, I will die.”
“I never rejected you,” he argues. “I was just playing hard to get.”
I crack up, arching myself against him as his tongue traces the crease between my lips. I open to him as I drop my other hand from his hair, feeling across his muscled shoulder, his strong back.
Freddie groans. “Is this ok?” he whispers.
“Mmm-hmm,” I say, nodding, tugging at his t-shirt. “Very. I would sign a waiver. I want this. Yes.”
Freddie’s lips never leave mine as he props me on the chest of drawers beside my bed.
He stands between my thighs, running his hands along them as I tug him closer.
I moan, frustrated, when his mouth trails softly, warmly down my neck, to the curve of my shoulder, lingering in spots that make me hop.
He runs a finger along my baggy sweatshirt, kissing the line of it.
He looks up, testing my reaction as he pushes it over my shoulder, his finger trailing lower until it will give no more. I smile, swiftly pulling it, with my vest and bra underneath, over my head, leaving me topless, and lob it across the room.
I press my lips together, but Freddie doesn’t notice; he stands taller as I wrap my legs around him, enclosing his body into mine. He’s focused as he plants both hands on my waist, his fingers splaying. The tips stroking along the underside of my breasts.
I lean towards his ear, whisper, “Freddie, please.”
He shushes me and I can feel the curve of his smile against my cheek like he’s planning on playing with me.
And he does just that, paying particular attention to my earlobes, which he pinches with his teeth, tugging exquisitely.
The same buzz whips up and down my spine, teasing the spot where the ache is building, begging.
I want to press him closer, feel the swell of him against me but he keeps a couple of inches between us.
Freddie’s hands lower to the hem of my leggings, sneaking underneath, grazing the bare skin at the top of my thighs.
The scratch of his rough fingers there is promising.
I think about where else I want them to scrape over and my impatience grows.
I fiddle with them myself, a sudden urge to rip them off.
Freddie smirks into my lips. “Steady. I’m not rushing this.”
His eyes feast greedily over my bare nipples, now firm and budded. He runs his hands up the back of my spine, then around the front, under my arms, his fingers gentle, achingly so, as he finally slides his knuckles over them.
He bites his lip. “Fuck. You’re so fucking gorgeous. I don’t think I can handle it.”
“Well, you’re going to have to pull yourself together and try.”
He takes a breath, laughs. “Fuck.”
I grab his t-shirt again, fisting the material and pulling him closer till his lips are on mine.
This time, he’s quick to tip my chin. Our tongues slide together and I feel the answering swell in his jeans.
His fingers splay at my waist, sneaking upwards until they’re tracing the underside of my breasts again.
He groans, stepping even closer, his hands lowering down my belly to the waistband of my leggings.
He tugs a little, but I have to lift my weight off the side for him to peel them off me. Then he pauses again. Breathes deeply.
“Look at you,” he whispers.
For the briefest second, I feel that familiar sludge of self-consciousness. He’s looking at me like I’m more than I am. What if I can’t live up to the hype?
As if he can tell, he fits his lips with mine again, distracting me from wherever my head has gone.
Expertly, his hand traces along my waist, over the curve of my hip and then down my left thigh, grazing the skin with his knuckles.
I hop in my seat as he trails the inner part of my thigh, higher, slower.
It’s so sensitive, so wanting, I can barely retain my groan just as the tip of his thumb finds the most intimate part of me.
I groan almost immediately again when he removes the pressure.
He laughs. I hate him.
“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t be mean.”
“Shh. I’ve finally found something I can tease you with,” he says in return, his voice husky. I throw my head back as he leans in to kiss my throat, his tongue trailing up the side of my chin where he takes a tactful nip. “Promise me this won’t be our only time.”
I gasp. “I…” But words aren’t forming as they should. I’m riled up and insensible. This isn’t time for promises, surely. And yet, “Yes.”
“Yes, you promise? I don’t want to just be your rebound, storm cloud. I want more of you. All of you.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Hattie…” Freddie leans back and it’s awful. It’s so cruel. I sigh, my legs hanging off the drawers like some kind of bedraggled doll. “I need to know this isn’t just a one-time thing. I’m not fucking this up with you.”
I reach for him, grabbing his t-shirt. “I want more of you too. I want you. I want you. Please.”
This seems to be enough for him. Encouraged by his sudden attention to my body, his lips returning to my belly, roaming all over, from my cheeks to my earlobes, down my neck again, my nipples, pulling, teasing, then lower still.
Fire spreads through me, heat bubbling just below the surface of my skin.
I feel his warm breath graze my clit before he kisses gently above it. It’s enough to make me gasp, as I claw onto the side, my fingers gripping. He smiles against my belly button. I want so desperately to kiss him. I almost pull him up to me, but I get the urge to tease him instead.
“Don’t you know where it is?” I ask.
At this, he chuckles deeply. But the challenge works; he masterfully demonstrates, sucking me in, that mischievous spark in his eyes. A breath catches in my throat as the ache intensifies.
“Was I right?”
I shake my head. “Missed.”
This time, he gently scrapes his teeth over it, his tongue pressing hard. I hop right into his mouth, one hand gripping his head.
“Brat,” he mumbles in triumph, his hands sliding behind me to hold me to him.
I collapse against the wall as he drives me closer to the edge.
God, it’s been too long to be teased like this.
A growling, hungry sound emanates from his chest. I feel the vibrations of it against my skin. The ache that’s been building starts to overflow. I hang onto Freddie, with zero control over the wanton sounds falling from my lips.
As every part of me starts to unravel, I tip my head back again. Freddie pushes me harder. I can feel the strength of him under my hand. Stars in my vision. The whip of sensation sprints up my spine. The heat in my core spreads until I’m my own wildfire.
Freddie stands again, kissing me, the taste of myself rich on his tongue.
“I’ve been dying to do that for a very long time,” he murmurs into my lips.
“Thanks,” I say, my lips pressing to his shoulder. “You can go now, I guess.”
Freddie scoffs good-humouredly, a low rumble from his chest. He picks me up, guiding my legs around his still fully clothed waist as he walks me to the bed. I let my head rest on his shoulder. He places me carefully on the sheets, yanking a blanket from the end and folding it over me.
I start to object; no way is he going to tuck me in again! But he kisses my forehead, using his lips to push me back.
“Are you sure you…”
“Yes!” I sputter. “I feel like I’ve made that very clear, Freddie.”
“Ok, well then I’d love it if you didn’t judge my next action.” He tucks his hand into his back pocket and produces a condom wrapper.
“You brought that into my flat?!”
“I asked you not to judge me.”
“When?”
“Are you annoyed?”
“No! I’m impressed. And very grateful.”
I kick off the rest of my clothes, including my socks.
He chucks the wrapper on the bed as he strips down to his boxers, climbing in beside me; the heat of his skin next to mine is divine. I take that as a cue to abandon the blanket, sliding across his lap. His hands find my hips, squeezing. “Take your boxers off,” I whisper.
I kiss him long and slow as he fiddles with his boxers, jumping from his seat beneath my thighs to free himself of them. Once he’s naked, I sit back to take him in. He watches me, cautious. I bite my knuckles.
“Oh.” Yeah, ok, now I’m nervous.
He’s bigger than…
“Don’t overthink it,” he says.
“What if I’ve been underthinking it, though?”
He grins, and I can see by his expression, this isn’t a surprise to him. Must be nice being so fuckable. He grabs the condom wrapper beside him and is about to roll it on, but I jump to it.
I take him in my hand, feel the width of him between my fingers. The gorgeous solidness of him. He closes his eyes, groaning, as he tips his head back. This fuels me further. I lean down to plant a kiss on the tip of him, to taste him there.
He grunts then before I know what’s happening, he grabs me by the shoulders and flips me onto my back.
He rolls the condom down as I sort my crazy mane out and then we both gasp audibly, forgetting ourselves, as he guides himself in.
The hard, hot slide of him, his body snug between my thighs, as he encourages my legs around his waist again.
Everything else, except me and him, blurs. I want to paint this moment. The pause between us as the world slips by. All I know is the feel of him everywhere. His weight. His beaded sweat rolling down his back as I try to grip onto him. The perfect anchored sensation building, slowly, slowly.
As he increases momentum, he kisses me again. It’s a hungry, leave-nothing-behind sort of kiss.
“Hold onto me,” he says against my lips, his elbows braced either side of my face. Somehow, me squeezing my legs tighter around him catches the perfect spot. I gasp into his lips, tensing all over, clawing at his back.
“Fuck,” he groans, as he finds his release.
He drops his head onto my shoulder, my fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to me. He tries to move, to remove his weight, but I like how it feels. I like how it’s keeping me breathless. Grounded. I squeeze him tighter.
“You’re going to kill me if you do that again,” he groans.
He holds still, collapsing into me some more.
Before we get too sleepy, the perfect mix of post-sex haze washing over us, he rolls to the side, his arms never leaving my body. “You,” he says.
“Me?” I ask, curling into him, finding the perfect spot to rest my face in the crook of his shoulder.
“Yeah, just you.”
*
The night fades into morning, the sunlight pushing through my blinds, birds stirring in the trees nearby.
We’ve barely had any sleep, our bodies restless with the need to be touching, kissing, feeling.
I managed to find more condoms in my top drawer, which was a relief to us both.
But now he has to go. He should’ve left last night and now here we are, with no time left.
“I’m going to be very late for work today,” he says. “And underdressed.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m late so I might go back to sleep,” I say with a dramatic yawn and stretch. Freddie throws the duvet off me, his eyes taking in my naked, stretched-out body. He runs a finger from my belly button up to my breasts, softly grazing my nipples, entirely entranced.
“Can’t believe you weren’t going to kiss me goodbye last night,” he mutters.
“Rookie error.”
His finger trails lower again. I’m suddenly breathless.
“I think I corrected my mistake, however.”
“Mmm,” he hums. “I’m going to have freckle withdrawal symptoms.”
“My withdrawal symptoms will be far more extreme. You should go before you don’t go at all,” I say, but I’m already experiencing his departure in my gut and I don’t like it at all.
He kisses my belly then my lips once more, brushing my hair back behind my shoulder.
I’m sure he almost says something else, but whatever it was, he keeps it to himself and hops out of the bed.
I pull the duvet back right up to my chin while I watch a naked Freddie, in all his muscularly lean perfection, roam my room, bending to grab his clothes and pulling them on one item at a time.
It’s almost surreal. I wonder if fourteen-year-old Hattie, who was entirely obsessed with him, would believe me if I told her.
I’m almost bereft of the sight as he pulls his t-shirt back on.
“I’ll call you.”
“You can’t say that. Haven’t you watched any noughties film, ever? I’ll call you means you don’t want to see me again.”
“That’s not a thing,” he says, smirking. “Is it?”
“Watch He’s Just Not That Into You and revert back to me. It’s homework.”
“Ok, I’ll watch it. And I won’t call you?” he asks, now entirely confused about how to manage this.
“Well, obviously don’t call me. A text will be fine. This isn’t the nineties.”
He chuckles softly and kisses me again, perching on the edge of the bed. “I’ll show myself out,” he says. “You look too cosy to move.”
“That is correct. I might even take a sickie.”
“What’ve you come down with?”
“Orgasm-induced fatigue?”
Freddie nods, working hard to keep a straight face. “Hattie?”
“Yeah.”
“I am going to call you.”
“What did we just talk about?”
He squeezes my thigh over the duvet. “I have things to sort out with my brother and I don’t know how we fit into that just yet.”
I swallow and nod. “I know.”
“And so I’m telling you this isn’t the end. But…”
“Freddie… I get it.”
He nods, his eyes scanning my face for a sign that isn’t true, but he finally relents with a sigh before stepping out of my room. Moments later, I hear the front door click shut.