Chapter 25 #2
Breathe. Don’t react. Don’t think about Tori and maybe it’ll stop.
Eleanor’s silent breath is tickling my throat. Her hand is on my chest. Like Tori’s hand. When we had less on.
Throbbing, heat, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I hear the others’ footsteps, their words in the epilogue. It’s nearly over. Thank God.
And . . . shit. If it’s nearly over, that means Eleanor’s about to roll off me and get up.
Applause rings out. I blink.
Eleanor lifts her head. ‘Want me to stay lying here a bit longer till you’ve calmed down?’
She spoke so softly that only I can have heard, but the blood rushes to my cheeks.
‘Shit, sorry,’ I whisper. ‘It’s not you.’ I pause. Did I just insult her? It’s not that Eleanor isn’t attractive. Oh, God . . .
‘I should hope not,’ she declares cheerfully, getting up. As she does, she glances over to the side and leans down again. ‘Tori really is looking super cute today.’
Cute . . .
I suppress a groan as Eleanor rams a knee into my thigh as she stands.
‘Don’t mention it.’ Her lips form the words soundlessly. I take the hand she holds out to help me up. The pain does help me back to my senses. All the same, I kind of hide behind her as Mr Acevedo showers us all with praise.
Tori’s eyes are on me, gleaming. I want to kiss her.
I want to replay the scene with her. I want her to be the one lying on me, and then I want to lie on top of her.
There are so many things I want, for fuck’s sake, and I want them now.
But the thought also fills me with hot panic as I’ll have to tell her I’ve never done it before.
‘What are you doing later?’ Tori asks, as Mr Acevedo wraps up the rehearsal just before dinner and we pack up.
I’m about to say ‘nothing’ when I remember that it’s Wednesday and I promised to help Dad.
‘Bakery.’ I sigh.
‘Right away?’ Tori asks.
‘After dinner,’ I say.
‘Hm.’ Tori doesn’t look away. ‘I could . . .’
‘Yeah,’ I say, at once. ‘If you want to, that is. You don’t have to. I mean . . .’
‘Shut up, Charlie,’ she whispers, laying her lips on mine.
More heat, more throbbing. I’m pathetic, and I wouldn’t change it even if I could.
We meet the others in the dining room. I eat fast and Tori keeps glancing at me.
‘I’ll come down later,’ she whispers, as we kiss again outside.
TORI
It’s a fresh April evening as I sneak out through the side gate and down to Ebrington. It’s not quite wing time yet, but I’d still rather not be seen. It was hard enough not being spotted by Ms Barnett after dinner as I went up to my room to change my school clothes for something more comfortable.
Charlie hasn’t locked the shop door. He emerges from the bake room as I close it behind me and the bell rings.
He’s wearing his dark red apron and he’s got his sleeves rolled up.
I want to be kissed by him. He obliges every time he moves from table to counter, weighs ingredients, scrapes out bowls or drags new flour sacks from the cellar.
I was genuinely intending to help him with his work, but let’s be honest here.
I spend most of the time staring at his strong forearms and broad shoulders.
His hands are covered with flour, and soon so’s my hair.
My lips, my cheeks. We’re kissing constantly.
Brief kisses in passing, longer kisses where we stand still and slip hands under jumpers.
His hands are cool on my belly; his tongue is hot in my mouth.
And then my heart stops as he kisses his way across my throat and gently bites into my shoulder. And my body responds.
This is new. I don’t know this side of my best friend yet, but I like it. I hold my breath as he pulls me to him again by the hips. I need more of it. I need his crotch against mine and, oh, I can feel him. Hard, against my stomach.
For a moment I forget to breathe and Charlie takes possession of my mouth.
I always thought that was a silly phrase when I read it in books, but it really is true.
I get it now. Charlie’s hands on my face, his thumbs on my temples, his thighs between mine as he pushes me back, against the large table in the centre of the room.
He kisses me more deeply, his leg presses against me and I feel it in my whole body.
Hot throbbing. It spreads. Between my legs, in my belly. Slow, fluid.
Kissing – this stupid apron, I can feel the knot behind him and the strap around his neck. Charlie takes my hand. He holds it tight and I understand.
‘We’re nearly done, OK?’ he says, with that divinely hoarse voice, and all I can do is nod.
I quietly thank God as we leave the bakery behind us and Charlie comes to the west wing without hesitation.
He doesn’t let go of my hand as we flit down the hallways.
It’s almost wing time, and we don’t want to get caught.
We don’t meet a soul, and we sigh with relief as we reach my room. Charlie shuts the door, turns the key, and when he comes face to face with me again, I go weak at the knees. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he walks towards me, to carry on where we left off earlier.
His hot lips dot my face, my neck and my cleavage with kisses as I slip off my jacket.
I grab the hem of his hoodie and Charlie lowers his head so that I can strip it off him, and, once I’m done, his face is between my breasts.
My body stretches towards him and I have to lean my head back.
He wraps his hands around my bum and lifts me.
Briefly, quickly, the way he sets me down on my bed is desperately attractive.
Before he can pull back, I wrap my legs around his hips.
I pull him to me; he presses himself against me.
It’s a new angle, one where I can feel everything.
I want to sink back and close my eyes, but I want to press up against him too.
We don’t speak, there’s only our rapid breathing. It’s like our hands had never known anything different, even when we were making ourselves keep our distance. Now I ask myself how that was ever possible.
I need him. I need him. Charlie. I can’t think of anything but the fact that it might happen. That I might have my first time, with him.
He pauses, almost as though he’s thinking the same thing. I know what he wants to ask when he looks at me. Dark eyes, flushed lips. What are we doing here?
I look back at him.
I don’t know, but I want it.
‘Would you like . . .’ His voice is hoarse, he clears his throat. Heat, more heat in my belly. He’s aroused too and somehow that soothes me. ‘Do you want me to stop?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Don’t stop.’
‘OK.’ He steps between my legs, but he’s not moving. ‘I haven’t got any . . . Well . . . You know.’
‘In the bathroom,’ I say.
He opens his mouth but doesn’t speak. I feel myself blushing.
He wasn’t expecting that. I can see it on his face.
A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have expected it either, but if the night of the New Year Ball and Valentine Ward taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want to be the one who has no condoms to hand, if it comes to it.
It was a precaution I justified to myself on grounds of feminism, not fear.
I wouldn’t have done it with Val if I hadn’t felt comfortable. At least I don’t think so.
Charlie kisses me on the lips, then moves back so that I can get up. My heart pounds as I slip into the bathroom and glance in the mirror before I take one of the plastic packets out of the drawer. My cheeks are pink. He’s already messed up my hair.
When I get back to him, I wonder for the first time who there was before me. Only Eleanor? Or anyone else? The question pops briefly into my jealousy-poisoned brain, but I don’t allow it to ruin this moment for me. I’ll ask him about it, some time, but not now.
I force myself to breathe more slowly as he comes towards me. Charlie takes my hand and wraps his around the condom. We kiss, slowly. He pauses in front of me.
‘Do you really want to?’ he asks.
I turn my head and run my lips over his cheekbones. Only very gently, but it makes him shiver.
‘Yes,’ I whisper. ‘Do you?’
He kisses me on the lips. ‘Yes.’
‘OK.’
My stomach is tingling with nerves and anticipation, but there’s no fear. Only excitement, but excitement is good. This, with Charlie. I want it to be good.
His belly is hard as I slip my hand under his T-shirt and down to the waistband of his jeans.
His breath catches as I pause. Our eyes meet.
Then he pushes me down onto the bed. I pull him with me, I have to close my eyes as he sinks down on top of me.
We keep kissing, and then I feel brave enough to let my hand slip between us.
Over his stomach and the stiff fabric of his jeans.
Charlie groans quietly. He presses himself against my palm and tilts his hips.
Oh, my goodness. So this is what it’s like. And I like it. I really do.
He takes the condom packet between his teeth so as to have both hands free to undo his fly. I lie beneath him as Charlie unbuckles his belt then tugs down the zip. I pull him closer to me, and this time there’s only my leggings and his boxers between us. Hardly anything. Way too much.
There’s a more intense rubbing, with no kissing because he’s still got that little packet between his teeth – at least, until I take it from him.
Charlie follows my lips with his, and then he’s kneeling over me.
His jeans are on the floor, he reaches for my hands and pushes me back onto the mattress again.
He picks the condom up again and rips it open with his teeth as I reach for the elastic of his boxers.
It’s fast. Faster than I imagined it, but that’s probably a good thing.
I hardly dare breathe, I stare at the ceiling as I push down my leggings and my knickers. He’s looking into my face, so I have the courage to spread my legs until I can wrap them around his thighs.
Charlie leans over me. I pull him down until I can feel his pelvis against mine. And then he’s right next to me.
I want to shut my eyes, and at the same time, I don’t want to.
We keep moving, he reaches between his legs.
I dig my fingers into his shoulders, hear his heavy breathing and my thundering heart.
And then he’s suddenly deep inside me. It’s true – it does hurt, quite a lot in fact, and not just for a moment.
So much so that I have to remind myself to keep breathing.
‘Are you OK?’ Charlie whispers, stopping.
‘Yes.’
Relax.
Exhale.
It’s working. I can feel it getting easier, the pain easing. Charlie waits until I nod, then he withdraws slightly and presses into me again. Deeper this time. Very deep. I didn’t know there was so much room in there. His hands rub over my sides and then it hits me.
We’re having sex.
We’re sleeping together.
I can feel him right into my belly. His trembling, his movements.
I groan as he moves faster and I have to cling to him.
His hot breath on my collarbone, my fingers in his T-shirt.
Firm muscles beneath my hands, my legs, his belly on my belly when he thrusts really deep into me.
Yeah, thrusts. Charlie is actually thrusting. Firmer, faster, as I whimper his name.
He’s not being cautious any more, he’s rough and I’d never have thought I’d like that so much. I didn’t know he could. That he can be like this. There’s barely any strength in my legs, but I press against him, arch my back, closer, I need him closer.
‘Tori.’ He shuts his eyes, his hand is close to my head, his arms are shaking. ‘I have to . . .’
He wants to pull back; I won’t let him. His muscles are as hard as stone, his whole body is shaking.
I grab his hair, I kiss him, I whisper his name, and then he groans.
Throatily, deep, inside my mouth. I feel dizzy.
He leans his head back, his mouth open. His eyes are closed, his eyebrows contracted.
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.
When it’s over, he softens. First his face, then his whole body, the weight of which I only remember when he sinks onto me.