20. Needy
CHAPTER TWENTY
needy
LINNEA
The sun is still up, lighting up my bedroom.
I stare at the white ceiling from my starfish position on the bed.
It’s not late at all, but it’s much brighter than it should be.
It’s full summer and August is around the corner.
And with August comes the Buckingham Palace garden picnic.
And Amara’s wedding—our fake dating finale.
In Devon, to boot. Same bedroom, I bet, considering we’re a healthy, adult couple as far as everyone else is concerned.
After three days and two nights in close proximity with Aiden, I’m about to fucking melt with need and I won’t survive that night if I don’t, ahem, help myself first.
Aiden’s caring side, his gentle touch, the way he kissed his way up my inner thigh (okay, that was a dream but it felt real)—it opened something in me. I can’t remember being this horny. So damned needy. I didn’t even know was possible.
But it’s more than that.
Florence was a rollercoaster of emotions.
I’ve cracked a door open into Aiden’s mind—just enough to learn there’s something big there which he struggles to put into words.
And there’s considerably more to him than the charming, arrogant man I’d previously pegged him as.
And now, I want to learn everything about him, which I shouldn’t want to.
This train of thought is particularly frightening. I can’t think about him like that… No, I’d rather not explore it, so I force myself to instead focus on the intense throbbing in my downstairs region.
The first thing I did today after coming home from Florence was to have a long shower, then a long bath, hoping to clear my mind of all the images of Aiden and his muscular arms. Arms that hold me tight. Or his broad chest that houses a big heart.
The bath didn’t help.
I’m still horny, still with a busy mind, but now I’m also warm and my skin so tingly and sensitive, even just the roughness of the towel lights my fire again.
Sprawled on the bed, I let the towel slip off my breasts, imagining he’s at the foot of the bed like in my dream.
I glide my hand down my stomach, between my legs, trailing the sides of my wet entrance, working myself up even more.
I let myself fantasise about Aiden. His wide smile, and the little dimple that shows up when he tries to force it down.
The way he bites his lip. But mostly I focus on his large, veiny, sexy hands, and how they glide up my leg, in between my thighs and all the way up.
He groans in my ear in that manly way I imagine he does when he feels how ready I am for him.
In my imagination he’s above me, leaning onto his arms, his muscles bulging from his weight as he kisses his way down my body. To my achingly needy pussy.
Yes, I like that.
Maybe Aiden talks like that. Maybe he’ll say ‘show me how wet you are for me’, spreading my legs wide.
He’ll tell me he loves how I look. He can’t wait to taste me.
Things I’ve never heard, but always fantasised about. Being worshipped. Needed. Obsessed about. I want to watch him get so hard he can’t control himself.
I glide two fingers through my wet folds and up to my clit, pretending it’s Aiden’s delicious mouth. His full lips. His tongue. I bet it’s a strong tongue.
Mmm.
He’s so good at that. He makes me feel good.
A bit too good…
The warm sensation I got when I found him next to me in Florence nestles into my stomach again, swelling, confusion roaring alongside it.
Stop thinking. Dangerous territory.
Bloody hell, brain, why are you interfering in my orgasm?
I arch off the bed, rubbing my fingers furiously across my clit. Up and down, back and forth.
Come on. Sexy Aiden, Aiden, Aiden.
Sigh.
I lost it.
Frustration fills me, and I let out a long scream into my pillow before I flop back over into my starfish position, panting for air.
What would have happened if I hadn’t had food poisoning?
Aiden suggested staying another night to make sure I’d fully recovered, but I said I had to get home.
I didn’t trust myself that close to him, but I can’t help wonder.
Would something have happened if I’d accepted?
Would I be coming with his hand between my legs and his satisfied grin above me? Would I ask him to sleep in my bed?
I guess that’s what I was both dreaming of and running away from.
For so long I’ve assumed he doesn’t take anything seriously, but that’s not true, is it? He took my food poisoning seriously. He’s taken my company needing him seriously. He makes me feel like I’m enough, I’m worth something, instead of tearing me down.
Ugh. That all-too-familiar prickly and heavy sensation crawls into my gut.
Guilt.
I thought less of Aiden for so long, when he’s actually a beautiful person.
And I’m gutted for myself. I’ve finally made a definite promise to myself. To fix the company. On my own.
But I’m not doing well with that.
I’m so tangled up with Aiden, even his mum has texted me and I’ve now promised to help her with the wedding decor. I’m more involved in this fake relationship than I was in my real marriage. As if I’d ever spend time alone with Henry’s parents. Jesus Christ, that thought gives me chills.
I really can’t afford to fuck this up. If I let the lines blur now and end up with one of us hurt.
Not that I know for sure what he feels for me, but he’s not disinterested.
Considering the way he looked at me at Casa Aurato, there’s something there.
Although, he hasn’t actually said anything to convince me I’ve crossed his mind in any other capacity than business arrangement. Except as a friend. Maybe sexually.
Mmm… No. Don’t go there.
I don’t do sex the way I imagine he could. Just ‘wham-bam, thank you, ma’am’ and then off to the next date. Does he really do that though? He’s searching for love. That’s what he says, at least. Or he was searching… Has he given up entirely, like Mark said?
The white walls are tinted a peachy orange from the setting sun. How long have I been here wallowing in my own shit?
This is not how life should be spent.
What is it that I want?
Fucking WHAT?
I throw a pillow across the room and scream. A long primal sound from the gut. My throat feels raw and tastes like metal, but I’m lighter after getting that out.
For another minute I lie here, staring at the ceiling, letting my mind go numb.
The phone rings on the charger pad next to my bed, and I reluctantly turn my head to check who it is. I’m so glad I blocked Henry, now I don’t need to worry about seeing his number flash up on my screen.
It’s Jamie. Fuck, I forgot she’d called while we were in Florence.
I roll over and pick up. “Hey,” I breathe.
“Hey, you’re better!”
“Yes, thank you. Fuck, that was horrific.”
“You were in Florence with your new boyfriend?”
“Um.”
“Why didn’t you tell us you’re dating your client, oh my god! I wish he’d narrate books, fucking hell, that voice.”
“Wow, yeah, I guess?”
“You guess? I googled him afterwards. How could you not tell us you’ve been working for a fucking dish all this time? And you’re dating him! He looks like he has a big penis, and God knows you need that finally.”
I gasp. “Jamie! I’m not talking to you about Aiden’s … penis.”
“Well, you should. I bet it’s splendid, and a wonderful topic of conversation. Obviously, my memories of real penises might be muddled, but I’m certain he’s got a delicious one.”
“Please stop,” I croak, my head now full of surprisingly beautiful erections.
“Jokes aside, darling, is it serious or are you finally just letting loose?”
“How are you so sure I’ve not been letting loose? I could’ve been.”
“Honey.”
“What?”
“Your voice notes say it all. You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out you’ve been home alone, working, instead of being out living your best life.”
“Right.”
“Well, now you apparently are. When did you start dating him?”
“It’s quite new. Three weeks-ish?”
“Can we please meet him when we arrive next Saturday?”
“Umm… Yes?” Oh shit, the picnic. “There’s a work thing on that day. What time are you arriving?”
“In the afternoon. You won’t be home? We’re staying with you, right?”
“Yes, of course! Every time. Please.” One time they stayed in a hotel and I hardly saw them. It’s for them only that I’ve stored a mattress under my bed. “I have an emergency key in a lockbox outside. I’ll send you a picture and the code so you can find it and let yourselves in.”
“Great, thank you. I can’t tell you how much we’re looking forward to four days away from the kids, and it makes us feel so guilty, but, fuck, we need some alone time. With you, of course.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you have some alone time too.”
We talk for a few more minutes about Sophie’s uncle and the funeral plans for the following Monday morning. It seems he was quite old and she didn’t know him all that well, but she’ll need to go to the gathering after to be with her mum, so I’ll only get Saturday and Sunday with them.
After hanging up, and before I overthink it, I open the message app.
Hey, might need you to come meet Jamie and Sophie next Sunday, is that okay?
Of course. What have you told them?
Not much, but I’ve let them believe it’s true. I’m sure they’ll see through it though
We’ll just have to try really hard. Or you can tell them.
Yeah, that might be best. Thank you
What are you up to?
Before talking to Jamie, I was furiously flipping the bean thinking of you and I’m mortified right now.
Definitely not writing that.
I search my room for an idea and my gaze falls on my open wardrobe and a red dress I wore for Christmas once.
Watching a Norwegian TV show. Home for Christmas
All for getting the Christmas feeling in summer. I bloody love Christmas. Wish we had more snow here though. Imagine Mayfair covered in a fluffy white blanket
I used to have snow for Christmas. My parents would take me home to Oslo to see family. But the streets on this TV show are to die for
Googling it now.
Oh wow. I want to go there
Can’t you just hop on a jet and go any day you want like we did earlier this week?
In theory, but always taking what you want exactly when you want it removes some of the fulfilment. I’ll wait for a while, make sure it’s the right move, and when I finally decide to go for it, it’ll be more gratifying
Why does this turn me on again? My mind is so far in the gutter I can’t tell if he’s talking about travel or orgasms.
Mmm, did he masturbate today? Wonder how often he does it. I bet he’s insatiable. Oh, now that’s an image to linger on. Maybe he drags it out to delay his gratification like he just wrote.
Thank you, Jamie, for inserting his cock into my imagination too, just to add to my list… Oh God. I’m aching for it. I’d like him to insert his cock into—OH MY GOD. Stop it.
Months of nothing, complete drought in the downstairs region, and it’s all hitting me now. Fucking flooding in comparison, all since that blasted sex dream about Aiden.
I have to get that orgasm out now, or I’ll just be forced to avoid him, because I need to stay rational around him. And this, this fucking need, is anything but rational. Anything but safe.