by Davina Stone
He had no idea how long they lay like that, their legs and arms entwined, his head nestled into the dip of her collarbone.
Except somewhere in there he had the presence of mind to remove the condom, which he did with far more ease than he’d put it on. Amazing what a blinding orgasm could do to your anatomy.
Back in her arms a moment later, he said, “I tried to hold out, but then you did… that thing with your hips… like, how do you do that?”
“Trade secret.” She giggled and added, “I’m actually flattered you couldn’t hold out.”
“Grrrr, you’re taking advantage of my weakness—and you’re not going to win.”
It was payback time. With the issue of his trigger-happy dick out the way and his limbs feeling as loose and relaxed as pulled toffee, it was time to focus on the woman he loved.
Loved?
Yes. Loved. He loved Judith Mellors… He loved her and he was darn sure she loved him.
And even if it was too early to say those words out loud, the realisation would have knocked his socks off if he’d been wearing any, which thankfully he wasn’t, because making love with your socks on was totally fucked.
He realised now that he’d been presented with the real McCoy, that his clumsy attempts at love before had been mere play acting, hoping that those mediocre relationships would make him feel he belonged in a world that was too bewildering… too cruel.
But with Judith he didn’t have to pretend. She saw beneath the awkward façade to the real him. And she liked what she saw. All the imperfections; his unruly hair and bony ankles… and most importantly… his fragile heart. And she wanted all of them.
All of him.
Suddenly ridiculously happy, he let his fingers trail down until they met the swell of her breast, her taut nipple. When she gave a breathy sigh he whispered, “You didn’t honestly think we’d finished?” And when she turned her body into him he became braver still. “Do you think it’s safe to turn the lights back on?”
Carts’ fingers on her breast, coaxing her nipple into a hard little peak was incredibly erotic to watch, and like a she-cat tempting her mate, she licked her lips. The ambient light from the bedside lamp accentuated the swell of his shoulder and bicep, his firm pecs, the dusting of dark hairs across his chest, the chocolate brown of his nipples, his long sensitive fingers.
He really had no idea how beautiful he was.
In another brain-space she’d pick up a pencil and draw the lines of his torso, shadow in the play of muscles on his chest and abs, but no, oh no, not right now.
Because his hands were playing her like an instrument, his attention focused on every reaction, like he was listening for the beat and cadence of her body to tell him what his next note should be.
He was a musician alright, maybe not in the same way as his sister, but he was a maestro of touch.
“Nice?” he asked, his smoky gaze holding hers as his hand cupped her breast, his thumb sweeping gently back and forth over her nipple. Her lips quivered a silent yes, and he smiled as his hand strayed over her ribs, smoothed over her belly to meet the curve of her hips and dipped lower still…
She arched to meet him.
When his hand slid between her legs, his fingers gently parting her and finding the bud of her clitoris, she held onto his shoulders as the tension rose inside her, a symphony of longing, building to a crescendo.
He stroked, he coaxed, he strummed her so expertly that she had no choice but to go where his touch led.
“Kiss me,” she begged, knowing how close she was.
She wanted him inside her again. Would he be ready? She reached down and with satisfaction felt the hard ridge of his erection.
“Another condom.” It was a demand, her building orgasm overpowering any residual niceness.
Carts obliged.
“What do you want?” Those words were almost enough to make her come on the spot. The need inside her quickened.
She had to be on top.
Flinging back the covers, she delighted in the glory of him, his narrow hips and the v of dark hair that arrowed down to where he was hard and proud and ready for her again.
“Okay?” he rasped.
She nodded, hands splayed on his chest, feeling the base of his penis against her sex. She manoeuvred until he was positioned just right and moved herself up and down the length of him.
Her head kicked back as his hand moved between them, touching her, just right.
And now there was more than sweet music, there was a crescendo building of their breath rising and quickening, of his murmured praise of her beauty, of the dampness gathering on his brows and the darkening of his eyes.
She saw his jaw tighten as she clamped hard around him in the moment just before her orgasm. And then it was like they were tipped over, tumbling, holding on to one another, not knowing where they would land but safe because they were in this together.
Freefalling.
Some time later, lying against his chest with his arms around her, she asked, “Do you think we made a lot of noise?”
“Probably.” He kissed the top of her head. “Does it matter?”
No, it didn’t, she realised. She really didn’t care if anyone in the neighbouring room complained about the sounds coming from room 224, or if a staff member walking past to deliver room service heard her scream out Carts’ name. Or whether there would be tell-tale stains on the sheets.
None of it mattered.
All that mattered was this man and her.
And making sure they made love again before the sun came up.
The first thing he noticed when he woke was that his feet were toasty warm.
He wiggled his toes and immediately felt a return pressure.
Then something brushed against the sole of his foot.
Toes, he realised. Attached to a foot that wasn’t his. Judith’s foot. Delight arrowed all the way up his leg in a wave of goosebumps. He lay still as the foot spidey walked up to his calf, and then a leg was thrown languorously over his, bringing soft skin and the brush of her pubes into direct contact with his butt.
Holy fuck. His cock was standing to attention.
With a smile splitting his face, he turned around and snuggled in to her, drinking in the musty scent and still sleepy eyes, the little freckle above her left eyebrow, the fairness of her lashes at the tips. He was getting familiar with it all.
Her gaze was luminous, like sunshine breaking through morning mist.
“Hello, you.”
“Good morning, you.”
She aimed a kiss at his lips, but he pressed them tight and muttered, “Morning breath.”
“Don’t care,” she said, and kissed him.
Just as he was about to give in and open to her, his phone rang. He scrabbled for it on the bedside table.
“Aaron,” he mouthed at her, and with a sigh she snuggled into his shoulder and he flung an arm around her and oh, how good did that feel right now.
“Hi there.” He liked the way his greeting sounded kind of deep and gravelly.
“Mate, you never called me last week.”
“Sorry, things got a bit hectic.”
“Everything okay?” Aaron sounded slightly worried.
‘Everything’s—perfect.”
“You sound like a man who got lucky last night,” Aaron observed, rather astutely.
At that Judith let out a giggle.
A pause, and then, more circumspect on the end of the line, “Whoops, obviously not alone.”
A small, sweet voice from the vicinity of his shoulder said, “Say hello to Aaron and Alice from me.”
A warm glow bracketed his heart. Here she was, lying naked in his arms, introducing herself. How much clearer could she make it she was his woman?
“Judith says to say hi to you and Alice.” He felt his chest puffing with pride.
“Say hi back from us.”
“Tell them I know Polly,” Judith whispered loudly; he repeated it. “Judith knows Polly
, they work together.”
He could hear Aaron relaying this fact to Alice in the background. He switched his phone to hands-free so Judith could hear as Alice’s voice piped up. “Oh, Judith the occupational therapist on Echidna Ward, right? Hi Judith.”
“Hi, Alice.” Judith waved at the phone. “Can you see me?”
“No, you don’t need to turn the camera on,” Carts said hastily.
“Got that.” Aaron’s voice held a smile. “Anyway, we’ve got some news.”
“You’re pregnant.”
Aaron laughed outright. “Give us a year or so more freedom, mate. No, we’re coming home early.”
“Seriously!” Carts’ heart bounced in his chest. He knew he’d missed them both, but now it hit him just how much. He sat up and Judith wriggled up with him so now they both had their backs against the headboard.
He glanced at her, her eyes wide with excitement as she gave him a thumbs up.
“That’s fantastic. When?” he asked.
“In a week. Alice is getting homesick and I’m wanting to have some time free before I start my new job in Legal Aid.”
“That’s brilliant mate.”
“Would you be able to meet us at the airport? We arrive on Sunday.”
“Love to.”
“Our flight gets in mid-afternoon, I’ll text you the details. And… feel free to bring Judith with you.”
Carts mouthed, “Want to?” and she nodded vigorously. No hesitation meant no hesitation that they would be together in a week.
He knew he didn’t need to feel insecure, but the habit had been years in the making. He guessed it would take more than a week to shed it completely. By now Judith had slipped out of bed and as he finished his conversation and said his goodbyes, he stared longingly at her departing figure.
He wanted her so badly again he was at risk of panting.
He didn’t have to wait long. She padded back a moment later, a white towel loosely wrapped around her body. She threw another one on the bed.
Brows waggled seductively over saucy eyes.
“What do you reckon to trying out the spa bath?” She licked her lips, turned and gave him a sexy as hell hip wiggle.
Faster than a speeding bullet, Carts shot off the bed, grabbed the towel and followed her.
A while later, after proving that two people over six foot could not only fit into the—admittedly giant—spa bath, but also make love in it without too much water spillage, they dried each other tenderly, dressed and headed down to a buffet breakfast in the restaurant.
“I don’t think I’ve eaten this much in my life,” Judith said as she finally finished stuffing her face with bacon and eggs and pastries, and sat back rubbing the hard little drum of her stomach. “It feels very decadent, like I’ve been at a Roman feast.” She let out a big contented sigh. “This has been the best… most amazing night. I’ve never done anything like it before. And to be honest, I’ve never really had anyone I’ve wanted to do it with.” She glanced at him to see the warmth in his brown eyes. “Until now.”
“Same.” He reached over and took her hand in his.
“We are getting adventurous in our old age,” she laughed.
“Bungee jumping here we come.”
“Make that a tandem skydive.”
“I’ll lock it in for our first anniversary.” He looked covertly from under his lashes, and she weaved her fingers into his.
“I’d like that,” she said.
They sat for a moment, well fed and contented, then Carts asked, “Do you want to do something after breakfast?”
She hesitated, and he immediately picked up on it. “You’ve got other plans?”
She sighed. “I have to try and get Mum and Pippa talking.”
A look of sudden comprehension dawned on his face. “Oh, christ, I’m sorry I forgot, with us and you know… Do you want to tell me what happened?”
With the whirlwind of events last night, there hadn’t been time to talk about Friday night. Nor, frankly, had she wanted to. She’d wanted to forget her family’s woes hanging over her. But now she explained the whole messy situation. Carts listened, his head inclined toward her, eyes intent, wincing when she explained how Pip had stormed off. “Oh jeesh,” he added a couple of times. It felt so good to talk about it that the leaden lump around her heart softened. She realised how much anxiety she’d always carried around with regard to Mum and Pippa. And as she talked, memories surfaced; of the times she’d listened to Pippa crying when Mum was too exhausted to go to her and Dad was working. How when she couldn’t bear it anymore, she’d go to the fridge, take out Pip’s bottle, drag a chair to the microwave and stand on it to warm it, then struggle to pick up Pip’s distressed little body from the cot.
“So why is it up to you to get them talking again?” Carts asked when she’d finished.
Her brow pleated as she sought for the words. “Because… because… I always have. It’s kind of ingrained in me…” She flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder, gave a nervous laugh. “Maybe I’m worried that if I stop caring as much, I’ll end up being one of those people who barge to the front of queues and walk past homeless people without blinking an eye.”
“That would never happen,” Carts said softly. “But sometimes caring too much means people lean on us when they should be fixing their own problems.”
She looked at his thoughtful expression, loving the wisdom that emerged when he relaxed into being truly himself. “You’re right, and I get that, logically. At work I know where to draw the line. But with Mum and Pip it all gets scrambled in my head. As though if I don’t sort it out something awful will happen.”
“Like when your mum disappeared when you were little and you didn’t know why?”
She gulped, nodded. When he spoke, Carts’ voice was full of compassion. “All the muddy shit from the past, eh?”
“Yes!” She let out a big breath, surprised and delighted that he got it. “That’s exactly how it feels, all the shit from the past messing up my head.”
“I know that shit,” Carts said. “It’s the reason I let my boss treat me like a turd on his shoe, even though I know I’m the best performer in the team. It’s why I never ask for a pay rise, or go for promotions. Even when the bullying stopped at school, even when I made friends, deep inside I still didn’t believe… that I deserved…” He hesitated, the fingers of his other hand curling around his napkin and turning it into a tightly scrunched ball.
“That you deserved…?” she prompted gently.
“To be happy.” His knuckles whitened and he glanced up at her, eyes clouded. “With Lucy, I knew in my heart it was over between us, but it was like I wanted to whack myself over the head with a two by four plank. Even as I went and chose that engagement ring, there was a great big sign flashing in my brain. Don’t do this. And then I did it anyway; like I was determined to prove to myself I was no good. That I deserved to be kicked in the teeth. And that’s exactly what happened. I let all that shitty stuff from when I was bullied affect my judgement over Lucy.”
She wound her fingers around his, brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “And then with you—” His voice cracked a little. “If you hadn’t come running after me… because in my head it was like, of course, this is how it is, this is what you get in life Carts, mate, this is what you deserve. It felt weirdly right.”
“But you were so wrong.”
He nodded. “I was. And I’m so glad you didn’t let me leave.” They sat holding hands in the companionable silence of two people who totally got each other before Carts said, “So tell me, what’s the major issue with Pippa and your mum?”
“Where to begin?” She sighed heavily. “They’ve each got so much baggage. Mum feels guilty because she had post-natal depression, but then she also withdraws because she finds Pippa’s energy too intense. But to Pippa, that means Mum doesn’t care. So she tries to force Mum into a reaction. Every single time. And it always, always backfires.” He squeezed her hand in s
imple acknowledgement. “And then, guess who runs around to fix it all up?” She pointed her other hand at her chest. “Moi.”
“What do you do?”
“I call and I cajole and I organise everyone to come to tea and… I bake brownies.” She heard herself laugh, hollow and mirthless. “Until they start talking again, but they never sort it out, not really. It builds up like those rock formations in caves. Drip, drip, drip. And now…” She sighed. “This is the big one, the hardest for both of them.”
“But they do love each other?”
“Yes, yes, of course. We all love each other, but we’re one of those families who don’t know how to show it.”
“How many families really do? How many families really talk to each other about the hard stuff? I know mine don’t. Dad hides in his study, worrying himself sick about his work, Mum teaches her ring off to kids who don’t want to learn the piano. I didn’t tell them I was being bullied, not until years later. Now, Avery can’t talk to Mum anymore. They rub each other up the wrong way constantly.”
“Sounds like Mum and Pippa.” She took a big breath. She needed to tell him the rest.
“Mum had a terrible childhood. Her family belonged to a fundamental church. The kind where if you did anything the church didn’t approve of you’d roast in hell for eternity. Strictly no sex before marriage, no university education for women, as little contact with the outside world as possible. You had to marry someone from the church. They’d lined up a church elder in his forties for Mum to marry on her eighteenth birthday.”
“That’s terrible.”
Yeah, I know. Awful. With the help of a woman whose daughter Mum knew from school, Mum fled to Perth. And met Dad, and Dad’s always kind of sheltered her. Mum did okay with parenting me and Luke, and then Pip was born and it was a difficult birth and Pip had colic and screamed for hours and that’s when Mum got badly depressed.”