10. Mary
Mary
My eyes widened as I felt him press closer behind me. He was hardening again. The man was insatiable! As if reading my mind he said, ‘You are more than making up for my dry spell.’
‘Ditto,’ I said, fast becoming distracted as he put his arms under mine and cupped my breasts, murmuring in my ear.
‘Look at yourself, Elizabeth.’
Reluctantly I did. He must have sensed it because he said, ‘You are beautiful. Look at how beautiful you are.’
Somehow, with his hands on me, cupping my breasts, tracing down over my belly, squeezing my flesh … I felt more beautiful than I’d ever felt before. I felt powerful, sexual. Sensual.
And then one of John’s hands delved down between my legs. I tacitly opened them to allow him access and he said a low, throaty, ‘Good girl,’ into my ear. I loved that. I really wanted to be his good girl.
I’d had to be the responsible adult for so long that there was something very thrilling about feeling like someone else was in charge. Telling me what to do.
His other hand was on my breast, squeezing and pinching my nipple while his long, clever fingers were sliding in and out of where his big, hard body had just been.
I was tender, but it was delicious and the storm gathered quickly.
It was as if he’d primed me to go off and I came in a rush with a gasp as he took his fingers out and cupped my mound, as if to contain the waves of pleasure.
He was fully hard against my back, and I reached behind and palmed him, cupping his balls, seeing how his face tightened and his eyes widened. I moved forward slightly, putting my hands on the little bench, bending over. I looked up at his reflection. He swallowed. ‘One second.’
He disappeared and then was back, rolling a sheath onto his erection.
I was on the pill for painful irregular periods but again I was glad he was so conscious of protecting us, even though the urge to trust him was strong.
The urge to feel him skin on skin, coming inside me, was also strong. But I resisted.
And then he was holding my hips steady and thrusting between my legs, making me gasp again.
It was definitely easier this time and my fingers were curled tightly around the sides of the bench as he pounded into me, hard.
I realised that was me, begging him to go harder, deeper.
My hair was falling around my shoulders, my breasts were bouncing with the movement.
He reached down and caught one, squeezing hard. I whispered, ‘Harder.’He obliged. Squeezing and pounding. I closed my eyes.
‘Open them,’ he said sternly.
I obeyed. He was so powerful, moving in and out. My legs were spread and I could see his balls, slapping against my backside. And then it all became fast and frantic; I could barely breathe.
‘Straighten up.’
I did, not sure what was happening. He slipped out and I think I whimpered, but he positioned me against the wall and pulled me back towards him before entering me again.
He put my hands up against the wall and then he put his two hands around me on my breasts.
‘You have the most glorious breasts. I want to come on them …’
I groaned at that image, so salty but so erotic.
‘Look at us,’ he said.
I turned my head to the side to face the mirror and that’s what pushed me over the edge. The sight of this man’s massive cock pounding in and out of my body, my breasts in his hands, barely contained.
He was right behind me, his body going still before he pulled out of me and said jerkily, ‘Turn around, quickly.’
I did, on wobbly legs, and then I saw that he was holding himself in his hand, rubbing frantically, and then long torrents of come were spurting from his body onto mine, all over my belly and breasts, branding me.
My body clasped tight in an orgasm all over again, coming helplessly in the tide of probably the most sexual experience I’d ever had.
We did actually shower at some stage. Cleaning ourselves, before emerging back into the bedroom in robes. We ordered room service, eating on the bed and drinking wine while the city slept outside.
Full – on every level – I put my plate back on a tray. ‘I’m stuffed.’
‘Yes, you were.’
I looked at John, suddenly feeling shy now that we weren’t engaged in frantic non-stop fornication. I threw a piece of cheese at him, but he caught it easily and put it in his mouth. Lucky cheese.
John was on his side, on one elbow. The robe was coming apart, showing his long powerful legs. Those thighs like tree trunks.
‘You’d make a good rugby player,’ I said.
I was sitting cross-legged, careful to make sure my robe was closed and not revealing too much. Which was ironic since I’d probably revealed more to this man in the space of the last few hours than anyone else. That revelation was a little disconcerting.
‘Isn’t that like American football?’
I nodded and took a sip of wine, then said mischievously, ‘Yes, but it’s way better. Shorter games and much more exciting.’
‘I’ll be sure to look it up.’ Then he said, ‘You mentioned a brother and sister?’
I nodded. ‘Both younger. Johnny and Caitlin. Caitie. Or Kitty Cat, but she hates that.’
‘Where are they?’
The tangle of complicated emotions felt like a ball in my gut. Missing them, but happy for them and aware of needing to move on, like they had. I said as lightly as I could, ‘They’re both in New York actually. Johnny has been there for a few years and Caitie just went a couple of months back.’
‘So you’re the only one left here to care for your folks?’
I avoided John’s eye. ‘No, they died a long time ago. Ten years.’
I felt him tensing across from me and braced myself for the inevitable awkwardness, but it didn’t come. He said simply, ‘You must have been very young.’
I looked at him. He didn’t seem awkward at all and the compassion in his expression was genuine. This man knew grief. You could always tell. Something inside me loosened. ‘I was eighteen, just out of school.’
‘What happened?’
‘It was a car crash – a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road. Johnny was in the car too but he escaped without injury, although I think that affected him nearly more than if he had been injured. I had to take care of them. Johnny was almost through school too, just another year.’ I refrained from mentioning the screaming matches and the slamming doors.
Caitie’s worried little face. My guilt. Johnny’s stubbornness. And then, his absence.
‘So you gave up your freedom to care for them?’
Even though John was very close to the bone, I didn’t want him to see where I was finally acknowledging that frustration. ‘I didn’t mind. I was all they had. Well, except for Aunt June in New York, but she’s a bit of a hippy and wouldn’t have been much use. She sent us sage sticks and crystals.’
His mouth quirked, but then he made a soft whistling sound. ‘That was a big sacrifice to make at that age.’
Yes, it was. I’d had to bury my grief in order to deal with Caitlin’s and Johnny’s. ‘I had no choice.’
‘You could have walked away.’
I felt a lurch at that thought. ‘No way. I’m not denying it was hard, but I wouldn’t have changed it. They needed me.’ Until Johnny hadn’t and he’d left. To pursue his dreams.
As if reading my mind, John asked, ‘So, what did you give up to care for them?’
I blinked. How had we ended up talking about this stuff? And yet I didn’t feel uncomfortable talking to this man who was little more than a stranger, albeit an intimate one now. I liked talking to him. It was easy. Too easy. But it was disconcerting.
Avoiding his question, I asked, ‘What about you? Do you have family?’