Chapter 8 #2
I think of pulling the covers back up over me and for a wild, mad moment it seems like it would be like pulling the winding sheet around my corpse.
It would be so easy to sink back into my old life, but I don’t want that anymore.
It’s served as my comfort and ease for so long, but I know I’m ready to move on, to stretch my legs and run free.
Resolution fills me, and I throw the covers back and bound from the bed. That resolution carries me across the hallway and stays with me right up until I’m standing over his sleeping body.
He’s lying crossways over the huge bed, his body lax in sleep.
He has one leg out of the covers as though seeking the cool air coming in from the open window that is bringing the scent of wet earth and pine into the room.
The rest of him is huddled under the covers with just the silky strands of his hair showing.
It’s as if he has a faulty temperature control switch.
I hover there, trying to breathe quietly through my nose and hoping that I don’t look like a total creeper.
He must sense something because he stirs, stretching his legs out and giving a contented grunt.
Then he goes still before exploding upwards in a flurry of movement that makes me step back in surprise.
He grabs my hand in his to stop the backward movement but doesn’t let go. “Milo,” he says hoarsely. “Is everything okay?” He pauses. “Is Cora alright?”
I swallow at the feel of the calluses on his hard hands. “She’s fine, or at least I presume she is, seeing as she’s up at the main house with her parents.”
Still keeping hold of my hand, he reaches over and switches the lamp on. It fills the bedroom with its warm white light and we blink like little moles coming up from underground. “Then what is it?” he asks, looking at me searchingly yet seeming content to wait patiently.
I falter. “Erm, I just thought …” I pause. “I m-mean …” I stop in frustration and huff a cross sigh. I can’t even ask someone to fuck me without bloody stammering.
However, Niall waits patiently the way he always does. He’s never displayed any sign of irritation with me, and somehow it allows me to gather my words.
“Were you serious about teaching me about s-sex?” He stares at me and I launch into more words.
Why are there so many of them when I don’t want them?
They’re like fucking buses. “It would be just sex, of course. I know neither of us want a relationship.” I falter, coming to a stop. “So, were you serious?”
I expect him to feign surprise or shock. Instead he stares at me, his eyes dark as something like caution flashes across his face before being replaced by – I swallow – heat.
“I was totally serious,” he says deeply, the hoarseness in his voice catching me in my nuts and making my cock hard enough to pound stone.
He looks into my eyes and throws back the covers.
He’s completely naked, his cock already hard against his tight stomach muscles.
I gulp at the sight of his body, all that tanned skin glowing gold in the lamplight.
“But make sure you lose those pyjamas,” he says hoarsely.
“I don’t want anything between us in this bed. ”
It’s surreal and part of me feels as if I’m standing to one side watching myself wrench my pyjama shorts down, baring myself to him while he looks on with avid eyes.
But the other half is fully here and I wait, letting him look and trying to overcome the urge to cover my body from him.
Thomas’s words echo in my head of how ugly I am.
Too thin, too scrawny, and pre-pubescent are just some of the nicer things he said.
I shiver at the thought of him, but Niall misinterprets it.
“You’re cold,” he says hoarsely. “Get in here.” He reaches a hand out and grabs my arm gently, pulling me into the bed and immediately swaddling me in sheets and blankets.
For a second I lie there, stunned and inhaling the sweet woody scent that clings to the sheets.
They’re warm from his body and I snuggle further into them.
He lies at my side, his head on his hand, staring at me. Resisting the urge to put my hands over my eyes and pretend I haven’t just got naked in front of him, I summon up my most haughty expression.
“Well?” I say, and watch fascinated as his lip twitches and his long nose wrinkles.
“Well what?”
“I think I said sex. Shouldn’t you get to it? You’re supposed to be teaching me.”
He smiles. “Well, Lord Milo, we may have a problem. You see, in my classroom I don’t lecture.”
“You don’t?” My voice is thready.
He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No. In my classes I prefer practical experiments.”
I bite my lip, suddenly hesitant. “Is this role play?” I whisper.
“Because I’m awkward enough, Niall. That would just about catapult me into the stratosphere of awkwardness.
” I watch as he throws his head back and breaks into fits of laughter.
“Well, I’m glad I’m amusing you,” I say sourly.
“Shall I tell a few jokes? Maybe do a pratfall.”
He sobers. “You’re bothered by me laughing?”
“Of course,” I huff. “It’s not funny.”
He reaches out and strokes my hair back with an intent and almost tender look on his face.
“Then that’s the first lesson for you, Lo.
Sex can be funny. It’s raunchy and smelly and noisy and it can make you come so hard you black out, but there is always room for laughter there too.
” He traces one long finger across my eyebrow.
“Do you know that laughter is tied to the production of the same positive chemicals in our body that sex produces?” I shake my head and he grins.
“If you think about it, they’re both physical activities that are marked by a build-up in tension, a striving for something, and then the utter joy when we reach it.
” He shrugs. “Coming and laughter, they’re the same thing. ”
“I worry for you if you ever go to a comedy show, Niall,” I say dryly.
“You’ll probably be arrested on the spot.
” He collapses into the covers laughing heartily, and I repress a smile and fold my arms. “Well, I have to say you’re a big disappointment so far.
I come to you for instruction, knowing your sexual history, and instead I get inappropriate laughter and psychobabble. I’ll have to go elsewhere.”
He stops laughing and I gasp as in one lithe and sudden movement he levers up and over until he’s lying on me.
My arms come around him and my legs automatically part so he can lie between them, and I gulp as I feel the length of his cock rubbing against mine.
Suddenly all the laughter dies away to be replaced by a breathless tension.
He rests there for a long second, his weight resting on his bent arms while those incredible blue eyes stare into me assessingly. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but he must find it because he nods and bends and takes my mouth.
I’d be embarrassed by the strangled groan I give if I had any part of my brain left that wasn’t concentrating on the feel of Niall Fawcett’s tongue in my mouth, the sweet woody scent in my nostrils, and that long body that once fuelled all my dreams which is now lying between my legs.
We kiss for what seems like a millennium and when he pulls back, I lick my lips, tasting him on them and feeling their swollenness.
“Jesus,” he mutters, his breathing fast and his body still moving almost unconsciously against mine in small, unhurried thrusts that threaten to make my eyes cross. “I’m not going to ask you if you’re sure,” he mutters. “I know you hate that, and I know you know your own mind.”
“Good,” I manage to get out before groaning as his thrusts get that little bit harder, making his cock rub against mine with the perfect amount of pressure that makes me feel like my head is going to explode.
I can feel the wetness of my pre-come mixing with his and greasing the slide, and I want to both stop him because he’ll make me come too soon, but at the same time let him do it and send me over the edge.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses and manoeuvres back so quickly that I give a cry of surprise.
“What’s the matter?” I moan, holding my arms out to him in a beseeching way that I know is going to make me want to punch myself in the head tomorrow. “Come back.”
He rests back on his heels, his face reddened and his chest rising and falling quickly as he pants. I wonder for a wild second if I did something wrong, but then I look at his cock which is huge and hard and almost visibly throbbing against his belly button.
“What?” he says, and he almost sounds tender. “What do you see?”
“You have the prettiest cock,” I say and then throw my hand over my eyes. “ Fuck , I’m impossible.”
“Take your hand away,” he says, and the deep softness of his voice makes me do it without even thinking. “That’s better.” His lips are swollen and his hair a wreck. “Why is it pretty?”
“This is rather embarrassing.”
“Power your way through it,” he suggests, and I glare at him.
“It’s long and hard. I can see the pre-come sliding down it.” His cock jerks a tiny bit, thudding against the flat, hard stomach, and my mouth goes dry. “I want to suck it. I want to suck kisses over all those veins.” He inhales sharply, and I look at his body. “I want to lick all of you.”
He’s still for a second and then he moves with that graceful economy that powers all his movements, levering off me and lying by my side. He looks at me. “Okay, then do it.”
“Do what?” I ask, coming up on one elbow and trying really hard not to eye-fuck him.
“Kiss me, suck me, do what you want. I’m all yours, Lo.”