by Em Taylor
Bloody traitorous body.
“Let me see these options then.”
He pulled up a few deals on his phone, flicking through them.
The spa deals looked particularly good and Olivia deserved some pampering before her big day. Rory focused on me as his thumb picked at the label of his beer bottle.
“What about all of us going bowling? I mean, they have alcohol at the alleys, and we could hire lanes for the guys and the girls. We could do our different activities, meet up for bowling, then close out the night in the pub,” I said.
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“You guys can show off your manly prowess to us girlies,” I said, putting on a fake swoon.
“So, you hens will go on a spa afternoon, and the stags will go go-karting. We’ll arrange our own food and maybe a couple of drinks in our respective pubs, then meet up for some bowling before we head into town to The Garage nightclub.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, sitting back so the waitress could place our food in front of us.
My stomach growled, and I tucked in while Rory made a mess with his tomato sauce as usual. Leaning over, I swiped some of the sauce away from his chin with my thumb and popped it in my mouth as I always used to. As my tongue swirled around my thumb, I stilled and stared at him, heat rising in my cheeks.
I pulled my thumb from my mouth with a pop and glowered at him. “I did not just do that. You saw nothing. It was a bad habit.”
“You do that with all your dinner companions?”
“Only the ones who slobber their sauce down their chins. Which is basically only you. Everyone else has normal table manners.”
I was being bitchy, but I was on the ropes. I needed to defend my stupid behaviour and deflect from the fact my body was reacting to him.
“I always was messy. I mean, with the way I was dragged up ...”
“Don’t,” I hissed. “Don’t do the poor-little-Rory act. Yes, you had it tough, but then you were given everything, and you threw it back at us.”
“Yeah, Lacey, I fucked up. I fucked up badly, and I’ve regretted it every day since I got out of your car.”
He lifted my hand and placed it on his cheek, then moved his head to suck the same thumb into his mouth. As his tongue circled the digit, I had to stifle a moan. One glimpse of his pink, wet tongue moving in his sinful mouth was all it took. I needed to make a decision.
Ripping my hand away, I grabbed my coat and bag from the back of my chair and hurried towards the exit. I made the mistake of turning back to look at Rory as I got to the door. He was throwing a few notes on the table, catching the waitress’s eye and pointing to it so she knew he hadn’t left without paying, and grabbed his jacket to run after me.
Once on the street, I glanced up and down, searching for an escape route. He’d been clever by deciding to meet me in the centre of town. I had to get the underground home and that meant crossing a busy road to head back to Buchanan Street. I hurried along the street instead. I’d walk until the lights changed then dart across.
Nevertheless, my indecision cost me because Rory fell into step beside me.
“Sorry, I pushed you too fast. I’m a klutz,” he said.
“There is no too fast. It’s never happening.”
He led me over the road and down an alley behind a pub. It was hardly a dark secretive alley, but it gave us a modicum of privacy.
“You forget, I know you. I know when you’re turned on. You’re wet now, aren’t you?”
“Rory!”
Hooking my chin with his fingers, he tilted my head back and pressed his lips to mine.
I couldn’t help myself, I opened to him, letting him deepen this kiss—allowing him to slide his tongue in and explore.
He captured the back of my head with one hand and inched up my skirt with the other. Without thinking, I opened my legs, giving him access, and he rubbed his fingers along the cotton panel of my knickers.
“So fucking wet,” he whispered against my mouth. “Let me make you come.”
“No. Not here.” I had some self-respect.
“No one will know, baby, and you’re so up for it.” I couldn’t deny that thanks to the way my body was responding.
His fingers slipped under the material, and I rubbed myself against his digits wantonly. Finding the bulge in his jeans with my own hand, I cupped him over the material. Was it my imagination that he seemed to be bigger than before? It probably was in my mind.
I wanted him inside me badly. But I couldn’t—I just couldn’t go there again.
“It’s such a bad idea,” I protested.
He pulled his hand out of my knickers and licked his fingers. “Fuck! You still taste delicious. Okay, babe, I’m seeing you safely back to your place, then if it becomes a good idea once we’re in private, I’ll make you feel good and expect nothing in return. Deal?”
I peered into his dark eyes and nodded. I felt nineteen again. That first night he’d been more concerned with my pleasure and willing to leave if I didn’t want to go all the way after I’d confessed I was a virgin and wasn’t sure. However, once he’d made me come, brought me down from a glorious high with soft kisses and caresses, then murmured he needed to make a move because I was a little too tempting, I had realised sex was exactly what I wanted. I wasn’t capitulating to what he wanted, I was owning what I wanted.
Rory led me from the alley, and we hailed a cab. Once inside, I expected him to be all handsy, yet he acted like a perfect gentleman. He really had grown up.
“Before we got distracted talking about us the other day you were telling me about people who can’t afford vet fees,” he said, taking my hand and holding it on his lap. “And I said why not go to the PDSA place. I assume there’s a reason.”
“You have to be on certain benefits. Homeless people are seldom on benefits, and many people on low incomes are just above the criteria. Also, the PDSA only allow you to register a single pet. They do amazing work with limited funds, and they can’t treat everyone’s pet, so there has to be a cut off, but someone has to be there to help those they can’t.”
“I see. That makes sense. You always were a soft-hearted soul when it came to animals and people.”
The taxi drew to a stop outside my flat, and I shifted on my seat. Withdrawing my hand from Rory’s, I glanced from my front door to him, and back to the door.
He’d said he’d leave if I still didn’t think anything happening was a good idea. Did I want that?
He’d also said he expected nothing in return, though. Could I take what I wanted and kick him out after?
“Lacey?” Rory asked.
“Hmm?”
“Am I coming with you or are you going up alone?”
I bit my lip and peered at him through my lashes. “I don’t know. How about coffee?”
That was the safe option, right? Give myself more time to decide.
We climbed out of the taxi, and Rory followed me up to my flat. The second I shut the door behind us, I headed for the kitchen, busying myself with making our drinks to avoid thinking about the fact Rory Thompson was in my home.
My hand shook as I filled the kettle and flicked it on, and my heart pounded in my chest. When I clattered a spoon against one of the mugs, Rory covered my hand with his.
“It’s okay, Lace. I expect nothing.”
His skin radiated heat over mine, and a tingle followed, trailing up my arm. Looking up into his eyes, my breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t look away.
Leaning forward, I closed the distance between us. Rory raised his hand, cupping my jaw and guiding me forward until centimetres remained between our lips.
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” I whispered.
“Me neither.”
“But I want you too much.” My brain screamed I was being foolish, yet my body knew what it wanted and gave no resistance when he pressed me against the wall, pinning me with his hips and letting me feel the hard ridge of his erection against my belly
.
Rory pushed his tongue into my mouth, and I accepted it, using my own tongue to duel with his. I curled my fingers into his short hair, and I arched my back away from the wall, needing more of him.
He kissed me harder.
And then my skirt slid down my legs. Rory must have undone it, but I didn’t care.
Breaking away from me, he took the front of my knickers in one hand and the back of them in the other. Gritting his teeth, he pulled, ripping the seam.
“Oi, you little shit. Those are Victoria’s Secrets.”
“I’ll get you more. I’m going to France in the summer holidays, so I’ll get you loads in duty free.”
“You’ll get them in Buchanan Street.”
“Fine.” He pressed a finger to my clit and circled it.
“Rory,” I gasped. “God, that’s so good.”
He smiled. “Open your legs, babe. Let me feel your wetness. Give me access.”
I did and he lowered his lips to my neck. His kisses already drove me insane, and his fingers had a magic touch. I rocked into his hand, moaning his name. When he pushed two fingers into me, bursts of pleasure shot through me, and I raced towards my orgasm.
“Don’t stop,” I urged, riding his fingers.
“Never, babe. You look fucking gorgeous. Come for me.” He bent his fingers slightly and moved his thumb faster, making little circles around my clit. I strained against him, imagining him naked, on top of me, his dick entering me, his lips around my nipple. I imagined him over me, stroking his cock hard and fast, his rhythm faltering and then him coming over my tits and—
“Oh God. Rory. Fuck. I’m coming.”
“Let it go. Come for me.”
I clung to him as the wave of pleasure washed over me and my internal walls clenched around his fingers. I struggled to make sense of the difference between my imagination and reality.
The kitchen came back into focus; Rory fully clothed, his fingers, not his cock; me coming, not him.
I swallowed as I tried to catch my breath and glanced at Rory.
He licked his fingers and grinned.
“What?” I asked.
“I like the new hair-do.”
“Hair-do?” I furrowed my brow as best as I could in my post-orgasmic bliss.
“You shaved it all off down there. I like.”
“You do?”
“Mm hmm. Though it does mean I need new material to tease you with. No more jokes about ginger pubes.”
I lifted my hand and gave him a rather weak slap on the back of the head. “Shut up.”
“I need to inspect this though.” He kneeled and pressed a soft kiss to my sensitive pussy.
I gasped.
“Jesus, Lace, I didn’t think you could get any sexier, but you just did.”
“You didn’t like the hair?”
“I did but a change is as good as a rest. This is sexy as fuck.” He pressed another soft kiss to my pussy and stood up, picking up the jacket he’d tossed on the floor at some point after I’d started kissing him. “I need to go home and do something about this boner you’ve caused before I’m hospitalised with a bad case of blue balls.”
I bit my lip. “I could ...”
“No. I said I’d give you pleasure, and I hope I have. I’m not nineteen anymore. I know when a woman isn’t ready.”
“I was ready that night,” I assured him.
“You cried afterwards.”
“Because it was nice, and even though it was sore, it wasn’t the screaming agony I had been expecting. I’d built it up in my head to be this awful thing, and you made it great. After you made me come with your hand, I knew it had to be you who did the deed. I wanted it so much. I knew what I was doing, and I never had any regrets at the time or since.”
He refused to meet my gaze as he raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I thought your crying meant you regretted it. You’ve no idea ...” he started.
I threw my arms around him and hugged him. “I wish I’d known you felt that way. I’d have explained sooner. I’m sorry.”
“It was a misunderstanding. It’s fine.”
I stepped back and smiled. “I had no complaints about any of our relationship until the night you left. That’s why it hurt so much. And it’s why I can’t trust you with my heart again. This was fun, Rory, but it’s also where it ends.”
He flashed me a soft smile. “We’ll see.”
Chapter 12
Lacey
“HI SWEETHEART. IT’S Mum. I was calling to let you know we booked the Hilton for Olivia and David’s wedding. I hope you’re being good, and you haven’t seen that boy again. Bye for now.”
That was the message left on my mobile when I got in from work the next day. I sighed and tied a knot in the rubbish bag in my bedroom, deciding to take it out to the wheelie bin. I’d put the knickers Rory had ripped off me in there, and they were lying on the top, taunting me—reminding me what a fool I was.
I needed my bestie.
“Hey hon,” came Olivia’s cheery voice through the phone. “How’s things? Rory tells us you met up and changed the hen and stag dos.”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
“I guess it’s the job of the maid of honour and best man, so I can’t complain. As long as it’s not too expensive. Not all my buddies are vets, you know.”
“It’s pretty cheap, and people don’t have to come to all the activities.”
“That’s what Rory said.”
I sat on the side of my bed, placed the rubbish bag on the floor, and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh, Liv, I slipped up.”
“With the hen do?”
“No, with Rory.”
“What did you do?”
“I let him do stuff to me.”
“Like? I need more info than that.”
God, what to say to describe it. “Um, I let him make me come.”
“With hands, mouth, toys? Was this in the house, out in the street, in a bar?”
“At my flat with his hands.”
“Is that all?”
I frowned. “What do you mean ‘is that all’?” I stood and started pacing my bedroom. “He’s my ex. I’m in love with him. I mean, I was in love with him.”
“Woah. That was some Freudian slip, doll.”
“It wasn’t a Freudian slip. I misspoke.”
“Why can’t you be with him? Because he fucked up years ago?”
“He broke my heart. My mum would never forgive me if I got back with him, and my brother hates him for what he did to me. Did you know Jonas saw him once in the Art Galleries and had to be hauled off him? Jonas was nearly arrested, and it was only because Rory spoke up for him and refused to press charges that Jonas didn’t end up with a police record. It can’t work. Plus, I don’t trust him. No one I care about does.”
“I do. David does. We know him now. We can’t claim to understand why he broke your heart, but he seemed awfully confused at the time.”
“No, Liv. I can’t do it. I won’t. I can’t put myself through it again. Oh hell, I have another call coming through. Gotta go. It’s probably my mum.”
“Think about what I said.”
“Yeah, fine.”
I hung up and answered the call without looking at who it was.
“Lace, I need you to save my life.”
“Rory?” I asked.
“Aye, of course. Who did you think would be calling from my number?”
“I ... never mind. What can I do for you?”
“How’s your French?”
“Passable. Why?”
“It’s careers week in school, and we’re doing a cross-curricular careers thing for the second years. I had a guy lined up for the day after tomorrow—a doctor—to come in and talk to the kids in French about his job. And now he’s sick. Gallbladder apparently.”
“That’s ironic,” I said.
“If only I knew a vet who used to help her boyfriend practice his French and spoke to him all the time in French when
they were in second year at uni.”
“If only you did. Shame you left her.”
“Isn’t it lucky she’s such a nice, forgiving person who loves animals, old folk, and kids. Think about it, one of those kids might end up being a vet, or even a politician who funds free vet care for everyone earning twenty five grand or less a year, if only they’d heard a decent career talk in school.”
God, he hadn’t changed. Still a charming bastard who could sell bags of sand in the Sahara Desert.
“Rory, I haven’t used much French since we split up. A couple of holidays maybe, but that’s all.”
“Come on, Lacey, it’ll come back easily. You were practically fluent, and the kids would love a vet. It would actually be more interesting than a doctor because they love animals more than humans.”
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I said, throwing my gaze to the ceiling. “I still fucking hate you, and I’m only doing it for the kids. Not to save your worthless arse.”
He chuckled. “I love you so much.”
The softness in his tone scared the shit out of me. “I despise you, Rory. I always will. Je te déteste tellement,” I whispered—I hate you so much—and I did in that moment.
“I know, sweetheart. I know. Can I come over and make sure you’re up to speed and sort out a talk with you?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. If you order Domino’s, I’ll pay you back when I get there. Get me a medium Meateor, chicken wings, and some juice. Get whatever you like too.”
“Okay, I’ll order on the app,” I said.
BY THE TIME RORY ARRIVED with paper, pens, and a French dictionary to hand, the order was about fifteen minutes away. He grinned. “Just in case.”.
“In case you don’t remember the word for ‘vet?’” I asked.
“In case the discussion gets interesting. I know the word for vet is vétérinaire.”
“In what way would it get interesting?” I glanced over my shoulder, checking he followed me as I headed away from the front door and over to the sofa to sit down.
“I’m going to put myself in the mind of a pupil and ask you questions. They will be in second year French, so they shouldn’t be too difficult.”