by Lily Morton
“It’s called charisma, and he abuses it shamelessly,” I say wryly.
“Oh, of course,” she says, waving a cavalier hand. “But he never really engages with the men he’s with. I’ve seen him with loads of them over the years, but I’ve never seen him laugh like he does with you.”
“That’s the lack of sex,” I say. It’s not truthful, but in a sense, it is. We’ve been like this from the beginning. “We’re friends,” I say again in a voice that warns her to drop it.
And because she loves me, she does, but not before saying quietly, “Well, that’s just a crying shame.”
The game starts again, and after a while, my headache makes it difficult to concentrate on my cards. I take my tablets surreptitiously, and then, making the excuse that Mags is so woeful he needs help, I lean into him and offer helpful advice that makes him shake with laughter and gives me a strange feeling in my belly.
The afternoon passes quickly with a great deal of laughter and booze as we discover that Mags is as competitive as Lennie. Chris and I finally give up on our cards and sit together watching the pair of them. Mags has taken on another three cards and is making his way through them with effortless aplomb as if this eminent QC plays bingo every day of the week. He occasionally hesitates as the colloquial bingo calls confuse him and I lean in, helping him and sometimes hindering.
“This is a good day,” Chris says, putting down his pint and hugging me affectionately. “We miss you, you know.”
I smile at him. “I’m only over the Channel. You can come at any time.”
“I know, but I like this. I like seeing Mags like this too.”
“How?”
He shrugs, taking a sip of his pint. “It’s like when we were at uni. He’s loose and free again.”
“He’s loose, anyway,” I inform him and smile as he snorts his beer.
He wipes his face. “Sometimes I think he’s become the image he projects, and that makes me sad.”
My brother-in-law, for all his laidback, easy-going nature, is an excellent judge of character. “What do you mean, Chris?”
“Well, he’s known for being suave and carefree and charming, and he is all of those things. But he’s so much more. He’s a music geek and a Scrabble addict and the best and most loyal friend you could ask for. When I had the cancer scare?”
I nod. Chris had a scare last year. It had been a tense time.
“Well,” he says, “Magnus was with me every step of the way. When I didn’t want to worry Lennie, I’d ring him, and even if it was the middle of the night, he’d pick up the phone, and he’d listen. Even if he was in the middle of a trial, he’d take the time for me. We would go for long walks and he’d let me talk until I was hoarse. And he was so calm and reassuring. I can never pay him back for that.”
“He wouldn’t want that anyway.”
“I know.” He looks sideways at me. “What puzzles me is how you know it too.”
The moment stretches, and I try to think of a way to respond. I’m saved by a cry of “House!” and Mags rises to his feet, waving his bingo card like a flag and doing some strange victory dance as my sister glares at him.
I burst out laughing.
He turns to me. “You saw that, yes? I have won.” He makes a sad face. “And Lennie has not.”
“It’s true,” I say. “Mags is the winner.” He puts his hand to his ear, and I say obediently, “And Lennie has failed miserably.”
Lennie groans, and Mags sits back down next to her. “Do not despair,” he says, mock seriously. “If you want to win, you can always just bring your husband. You can beat him easily.”
“Hey,” Chris says with no rancour at all.
Mags grimaces. “For a CFO, you have an alarming failure rate in bingo.”
Chris looks around, and we all nod at him.
“Oh, fuck off,” he says.
“Well, never mind,” my sister says sweetly. “If he mismanages our money, I can always rely on Laurie to come and paint our house.”
Chris and I start to laugh and Mags groans. “He told you, yes?”
My sister snorts and Mags watches her affectionately, his eyes twinkling. He looks up as a woman comes over to check his card. He says something, and she smiles at him before marking his card. She waves it in the air, and everyone groans.
“Ooh,” I say, brightening and jumping up. “You can pick your prize. Come on.”
Mags shakes his head. “It puzzles me why you’re so excited. You lost.” He pauses. “Badly.”
“Ooh, burn,” Chris says happily. “Mags, you really should finally give in and come to games night at the Gentry household. You’ll fit in very well.”
“I’m going to pick your prize,” I say, heading over to where the prizes are kept. Mags follows me, complaining that he wants to do it himself. His complaints are cut short when he sees the display case. I try not to laugh at his expression. “This bingo hall sources the glitziest prizes around,” I whisper.
“Do people not win money?” he enquires. “All I see is—” He searches for the word and then smiles triumphantly. “Tut.”
“Collectible tut,” I say, looking down at the case.
“Collectible by whom?” he says to the air as I bend over the cabinet.
“This is epic,” I say happily after spending a few moments examining the selection. “He’ll have that ashtray,” I say to the woman behind the counter, pointing to the glitzy monstrosity in the middle of the case. It’s absolutely massive, very seventies-looking, and currently giving off so many rainbows under the lights that it should be in a Pride parade.
“Laurie.” Mags sounds pained.
“It’ll look lovely on your coffee table,” I tell him seriously, managing to fight back my smile at his grimace. “It’ll make your house feel like a real home.”
“Like a home belonging to Liberace,” he says morosely, but signals the woman to wrap it up.
An hour later, after Mags has bought the old ladies at the next table three rounds of drinks and led them in a rousing version of “Night Fever,” we spill onto the pavement and exchange promises to meet up before I go back to France.
The reminder makes me feel a little sick. Some of this is because, by the time I go back, I’ll have made a decision that’s been eluding me since I’ve been here. But the other reason is that this thing between me and Mags will have to stop, and I won’t be able to walk across the corridor and knock on his door anymore. For a man who’s prided himself on living a life with few strings, it’s a surprising and worrisome revelation.
At the moment, Mags is watching my sister and Chris get into their taxi. The sun gleams on his shiny, ash-brown hair, and he squints in the bright light, showing the fine sunburst of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. My body flushes with heat. I debate my next course of action, but there’s only one thing I want to do. And I’m looking at him.
He turns back to me with a smile on his face, but it dies as he immediately guesses my mood. I knew he would. I move closer, and he takes a step back.
“It’s been a good afternoon,” he says warily.
I wink at him, and he immediately wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I know how we can make it even better, Mags.”
“I am cautious of even asking how.”
I grin. “Let’s go back to your place and fuck.”
A muscle ticks in his set jaw, but his eyes are hot as fire. “And is that wise?” His voice is filled with both humour and heat.
“Is anything ever wise, Mags?”
“I’m sure I could pick fault in that particular piece of logic.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you going to?”
He looks me up and down, and his eyes grow heavy-lidded. “No,” he says finally, and I breathe out slowly, feeling a pulse in my cock like the clang of the bell to start a race.
I raise my hand to hail a taxi. “Let’s go. I want you inside me.”
He follows me obediently. “Can I look at my ashtray while we do it?” he asks so
lemnly.
I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “I don’t know, Mags. Will it improve your performance?”
He gives a predatory smile, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Only one way to find out.”
Chapter Eleven
Laurie
We’re kissing so hard that we fall against his front door.
“Ouch,” I say as the handle digs into my back. “The knob’s gouging me.”
He takes one look at me before bursting into laughter and saying lasciviously, “Not yet, but soon, Laurie.”
I roll my eyes. “Braggers rarely have a reason to do so.”
He grabs my hand, and I swallow hard as he holds it to his groin. His cock is hard, straining at his shorts and intimidatingly wide. I’ll know he’s been inside me for sure. The idea doesn’t put me off. Instead, my whole body heats. I haven’t had a good dicking for ages.
He presses against me, bracing his arms on the door, bracketing me in. His hips thrust, pushing his cock into my hand. I grip him, shuttling up and down, making him close his eyes and mutter something in Danish under his breath.
I release his cock and fumble at the button of his shorts, and he grabs my fingers, staying me. “Not in the corridor,” he mutters. “Let’s get inside.”
“You have excellent ideas,” I say breathlessly.
He smiles. “Better than bingo.”
“You lie,” I say indignantly, trying not to laugh. “Ah well. Now that your ideas are going to be accompanied by your dick, I shall pay attention going forwards.”
His laughter sounds almost surprised, and I wonder if having fun during sex is unusual for him. Rolling around in the sheets and laughing together had always been one of my favourite things back in the days when I’d tried relationships.
The door swings open and startles me. Mags’s steadying hand keeps me from face-planting. “Smooth, Laurie,” he says with a snort.
“Oh, I’ve got game,” I say darkly, pulling my T-shirt up and off and nearly taking my eyebrows with it. “You watch. I’ve got so much game it’s going to blow your bloody head off.”
“Not exactly what I’m looking for in a partner, but I am always open to new experiences.”
“You little minx,” I say.
He laughs again and the warm, husky sound makes me happy. I kick off my Converse and unbuckle my belt, and his laughter dies. He’s leaning against the breakfast bar, watching me with heated eyes. I wink at him and push my shorts and briefs off in one go, leaving me stark naked.
He licks his lips and gives me the most thorough up-and-down look I’ve ever had. I stand tall and spread my arms out so he can look his fill. I’ve never been bothered by nakedness—my own or other people’s.
“You’re lagging behind,” I prompt.
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes—his gaze is avaricious.
“Well, we can’t have that.” His accent is more pronounced than it’s ever been.
I swallow hard as he strips off his clothes a lot more gracefully than I managed. I fist my cock, stroking it lazily as I watch him. His body is wonderful. He’s tall and wide-shouldered, his skin olive-toned and soft-looking. His chest is broad and covered in brown hair liberally shot through with grey. He’s not slender, and the signs of approaching age are there to see in the thickening at his waist and the slight roundness of his belly. However, I’ve never seen anyone so robust and sexy. It’s his confidence and vitality that light him up and make him so incredibly sexy.
“Into the bedroom,” he says throatily.
I touch my finger to my temple. “Aye-aye, captain.”
“If only you were going to be that malleable, Laurie,” he says in a mournful tone.
I laugh, but the truth is I am malleable during sex. I love giving up part of my control and letting go, knowing my partner is focused on my pleasure. It sounds selfish, but I’ve always made sure I give as good as I get.
My thoughts scramble as he kisses me. “Turn off that brain now,” he orders and kisses me again, taking my mouth and forcing his tongue inside. Connected like this, we shuffle towards the bedroom, bouncing off a couple of walls and occasionally stopping to break into laughter.
I’ve never felt this free before with anyone, I think wonderingly, and then he kisses me again and tumbles me onto the bed. He comes over me immediately, and we both moan as our cocks rub together, saluting each other with damp pre-come kisses.
I pull away and push his chest. “On your back,” I say, my voice hoarse.
He looks at me for a few seconds and then smirks, falling to his back with a lot more grace than I show as I scramble over the mattress to him, almost falling off the bed in my enthusiasm.
Mags’s smirk vanishes as I lean in, inhaling the rich scent of his pubes before taking his cock head into my mouth and suckling on it like a lollipop.
I’m gratified to see all signs of brain function disappear as he pushes his head into the pillow, his eyes closing. I lick and suck on the head, trailing kisses down the length of his dick before going back to his head, where I suck until it’s glossy with spit and I can taste tangy pre-come. Then I lean in and take his cock down the back of my throat.
He groans as if in pain, and the sound makes my own cock jerk. I push on it to calm the fucker down and suck hard, watching as Mags spreads his legs and pushes up. His hands rise as if he’s going to grab me, but then he reconsiders and lowers them to the mattress. I reach over and hold them. When he opens his eyes, I put his hands on the back of my head, mutely telling him to go ahead. He hesitates for a split second, and then gets with the programme, twining his fingers in my hair and pushing me into his groin.
I gag for a second, and feel my whole body thrumming with desire. I love this. I love being taken over and controlled like I’m serving him.
I suck harder and his hands drop to my shoulders. His nails dig in, hard enough to leave marks, and I pull off his cock panting.
His eyes are hot and knowing. “You like that?” he asks, his voice heavily accented.
I nod and moan as he reaches down and traces his fingers over my hips and arse. He runs one tantalising finger along my crack before pulling back and slapping my arse.
“Bend over the bed,” he commands.
I scramble to obey as he stands up and rifles through the bedside drawer. He throws a condom and a bottle of lube down beside me.
“Open your legs and show me your hole, Laurie,” he orders.
I shiver before complying. The air is cool on my entrance, but I barely notice it as he leans down and licks my crack. I come up on my elbows. “I haven’t had a shower,” I say hoarsely.
“I like the way you smell. Shut up.”
I lower back down to the bed, feeling the soft, warm caress of the velvet coverlet and screwing my eyes shut as he moves between my spread cheeks, giving my hole a delicate lick before putting his hands on mine and going to town on me.
He licks and suckles, pulling back to spit on the hole, working me open with his tongue and three lube-wet fingers while I writhe and pant, pushing my aching cock into the mattress, searching for pressure.
He pulls back slightly, and I hear the crinkle of the packet opening and the snap of the latex when he rolls it down. Then he moves over me, pushing my face into the bed in a bossy manner that’s hot as fuck.
I cry out as he slides his cock slowly into me, and he kisses my shoulder.
“Alright?” he asks.
“God, yes. Keep going,” I pant. “I love it.”
When he bottoms out, we stay still as I pant through the burn. He’s wider than anyone I’ve had lately, and I wriggle against the pinch. The movement urges his cock against my sweet spot, and starlight shoots through me. I cry out and come up on my hands, arching back into him.
He groans, and, fastening his hands on my shoulders, he begins to thrust into me. His damp chest hair scratches my back, and he grunts as he forces his way into me. It’s impossibly hot, and way before I’m ready, I feel a tell-tale tingle in my balls
. I grab the base of my cock and squeeze.
When I’ve staved off my climax, I look back. His face is hard and set. “Stop,” I say. “Get on your back on the bed.”
He stills his hips and stares at me, our breathing loud in the quiet room.
“You’re a bossy bottom. I should have guessed that, Laurie.”
I smile but then wince as he pulls out, even though he goes slowly. I’m going to feel him tomorrow. He lowers himself onto the mattress, his muscled body a beautiful contrast to the white sheets.
“I may like you driving the sex, Mags, but I still like being a part of it. I don’t just want to be told what to do.”
“I haven’t met an occasion when you do,” he says wryly. The humour dies away as I crouch over him.
“Put it in me,” I whisper. I feel his big hands squeezing my buttocks before he pushes me up, grabbing his cock and tapping it against my hole.
“God, you’re big,” I say, giving a throaty groan as I sink down onto him, feeling him fill me up. We both grunt as my backside meets his lap, and his cock is fully in me.
“Ride me, Laurie,” he says, and his eyes slide shut as I do just that.
I bounce on his dick, gently at first, crying out at his girth, and then harder until I’m pounding myself down on him. His hands cup my arse, and I bend and kiss him.
He freezes for a second as if he’s stunned that I’m kissing him during sex, but then his lips open, and he moans into my mouth. We keep the connection, tangling our tongues until our bodies become frantic, and we can only pant into each other’s mouths.
My balls tingle, and this time I don’t fight it. I push my feet under his thighs and sit back, resting my hands on his chest and tangling my fingers in the hair there. I writhe, and his deep groan echoes through the room. I can feel every centimetre of him in this position, and I’m quickly reaching the point of no control.
“Mags?” I gasp.
“Yes,” he says in a thick voice. “Yes, Laurie.”
I slam down on him, and his big hand grabs my cock. He squeezes me as he pulls his fist up, and I’m gone, spurting into his palm until the come trickles over his fingers. After the last pulse is finished, he lets go of me and licks his fingers.