Chapter 5
‘Oh, Beryl, you’re so beautiful. I just want to …’
He pulled his mouth away from hers, his voice deep and breathy. So much deeper than when they’d first become friends. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. It was a good job his parents were out all night, because that kiss was hot.
His twilight eyes settled on her, the amber glow of the lamplight almost turning them the shade of midnight.
One was a touch darker than the other, which made them all the more mesmerising.
Every smooth, semi-naked part of him was fascinating in this light.
She lay on his bed in her white underwear, the evening sticky with heat.
He was on his side next to her, leaning on one elbow, her body almost on fire in the places where their skin touched.
She reached up a hand to his chest and ran her fingers down it, noticing the slight dips and knots where he’d been using the college gym.
His nipples hardened. He closed his eyes and whispered her name again.
It was a name she’d never liked and had always wanted to change.
Until she began falling in love with the way he said it – like it was the one word that meant everything.
‘You can.’ She answered the question she thought he’d been about to ask. ‘I want it too.’
The next sound he made was more of a groan, as though words had escaped him.
Her fingers continued their slow descent until they reached the bulge in his underwear.
His hardness pulled the stretchy material taut and thin, so she could feel every ridge and undulation.
She massaged gently, feeling him throb. She wanted more and she didn’t want to wait.
She pulled him on top of her, his weight folding as though his feelings for her made him powerless.
Their warm bodies writhed as they kissed more deeply, his mouth almost becoming hers.
He tasted of the rum and Coke they’d been drinking in the student bar, sweet and spicy.
She fantasised about his tongue exploring her in other places, hot and firm, filling her with his longing.
The thought was almost too much. She groaned her fantasy into his ear, and after one more deep kiss his mouth moved to her neck and his tongue began trailing a sensuously slow line between her breasts and down her stomach, those dark blue eyes pinning her as she nodded furiously.
A giggle escaped her, and she pushed his head downwards.
Her whole body shuddered as his mouth reached the place between her legs.
She pulled her underwear aside for him and his face sank into her, his mouth moving against her as though he instinctively knew her rhythm.
She rocked herself against him, her groans mixing with his, the warmth of his mouth and his breathy sighs making an orchestra of pleasure that rippled upwards.
His hand reached out and found a breast. She clamped her hand onto his and encouraged him to grip harder.
His fingers thrummed against her nipple, and she thought she might burst with the thrill.
As his mouth moved between her legs, she heard herself gasping for more.
And suddenly there was a kaleidoscope of colours, exploding like fireworks as her whole body shuddered uncontrollably.
‘Devan, Devan, Devan …’ She couldn’t stop repeating his name. She’d never felt such pleasure and she didn’t want it to end.
When she finally stopped shaking, she pulled him back up to her.
‘Let’s do everything,’ she breathed. It wasn’t her first time, but it would be her first time with him. And the first time with anyone who had meant something. She loved him. She was sure of it now.
And then he was putting on protection and they were kissing again, their hands exploring, his body on top of her, his hardness inside her. She felt complete.
She murmured in pleasure as they moved together, him gasping her name as his face nestled into her. His skin smelled like amber and the aftermath of sunshine.
The moment seemed to go on, as though they were stuck in a delicious loop. Him saying her name, more gasping, more kaleidoscopes. And she was yelping something that sounded like ‘I love you’ – but she couldn’t be sure.
And there was so much dampness. Her pyjama top was soaked through. But wait. She hadn’t been wearing a pyjama top. Had she? Then there was a strange sort of buzzing, and some scratching, and …
Beryl felt herself jump, her eyes snapping open. Her hand flew to her chest, where she was wearing a pyjama top, and it was soaked through. Although she wasn’t Beryl anymore. She was Alyssa.
‘Argh!’ Alyssa sat up quickly and flicked on the bedside lamp.
It made a crackling sound, and she hoped it wouldn’t electrocute her.
It didn’t give out a soft amber glow and there was no sexy man in the bed next to her or on top of her.
In fact, that guy had never even been inside her. ‘That stupid damned dream.’
She called it ‘the single dream’ because although she’d had it often over the years since that night – which hadn’t quite ended as intimately as her sleepy imagination would have her believe – the dream only arrived when she was single.
Even her dreams had firm principles. Though that was another reason it was easier to bounce from one empty relationship to another.
When she was in one, she didn’t have to endure pointless teenage fantasies.
They were irksome and embarrassing, and she surely hadn’t liked him that much.
His tongue might have caused her to think she’d seen weird kaleidoscopes, though they’d both been a bit drunk.
And the next night it had all gone wrong.
Thank goodness she never had to go anywhere near him these days.
Devan Shaw was probably still married to his real teenage sweetheart – her once best friend of a lifetime, Sylvie – likely living in a charming cottage in Hartglove like a pair of monogamous beavers.
She had no idea, though presumably they’d be one of the few, if the place had love problems. And as much as it had broken her at the time to be betrayed by what felt like everyone, she’d patched herself up and had learned not to care – even if her make-believe dreams hadn’t quite got the memo. Dreams were unruly like that.
Alyssa jumped out of bed, pulling off her pyjama top and searching for another in her suitcase.
She hadn’t bothered to unpack, seeing as she only had seven days before she’d be evicted.
And, unless she made some money, seven days until she was homeless and begging for scraps.
What a comedown from that lovely big house.
If only she’d been more focused on her career and less complacent.
Hindsight was a wonderfully annoying thing.
Her phone was glowing, so she guessed that’s what the buzzing had been. More social media notifications. So what was the scratching sound? Her eyes scanned the floor. On second thoughts, it was better not to know.
She pulled on a fresh top and launched herself back onto the bed, bringing her phone with her. It wasn’t great for anyone’s sanity to start scrolling social media at stupid o’clock, but she needed the distraction. Tomorrow would be better.
She clicked onto Instagram, praying for anything to help her block out visions of a certain semi-naked person with a bulge in his briefs.
‘Oh hell.’
This was possibly worse. She’d all but forgotten about the inane banter with @appytogether and how ridiculous their concept was.
So ludicrous that every human and their pet Yorkiepoo had added replies to the comment she’d written.
Her notifications were flooded. At that point, she should have saved herself by reading a trashy magazine or making a cuppa.
Or even going mouse hunting … Anything that didn’t involve getting dragged back into this.
Yet her eyes couldn’t resist. The post was going viral – with everyone clamouring for the same outrageous outcome.
They wanted @alyssaheart_thelovecoach to take up the challenge and put the app to the ultimate love test.
All parts of her sank into the sagging bed, her head spinning.
She would normally brush this off or laugh about it.
Her usual self would come up with another witty put-down that would bring her even more followers and make her feel good.
But right then, she was exhausted. And she had enough problems, without adding this circus of an app to her list. Her thumb found the option to unfollow the post. In the morning, she’d get on with making her love coaching business popular again, so she could regain her income and scrape back some self-respect.
And it wouldn’t involve being ’Appy Together with anyone.