You Don't Have to Say You Love Me

by Sarra Manning

  ‘I thought they might solve the sleepwear problem,’ Max said in an oddly strained voice. ‘Do you like them?’

  Neve held up a slip in a dusky colour that wasn’t quite pink and wasn’t quite lavender but probably had an old-fashioned name like Ashes of Roses, delicate black lace stitched around the bodice and hem. There were two other slips still resting in their tissue nest; one a dull red that was miles away from the nasty, lurid red of cheap nylon underwear, the other a smudgy, inky blue, both of them adorned with cobwebs of black lace. In fact, slip was too prosaic a word for them; Neve really wanted to call them something French like peignoir or negligée.

  ‘They’re gorgeous,’ she breathed reverently. They really were, but there was no way they were going to fit her.

  ‘One of the assistants was about the same size as you – well, maybe a little larger, and she looked at the pictures of you on my phone.’ Max swallowed nervously as Neve looked at him sceptically because fancy shops called … she looked at the logo on the gold sticker … called Boudoir did not have sales assistants who were about her size or maybe a little larger. ‘You do like them, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do, they’re lovely,’ Neve was able to say truthfully, because even if they didn’t fit her, she could very well have them framed and hung on her bedroom wall. ‘You didn’t have to get me presents, I liked having a four-legged room-mate.’

  ‘I know he can be a pain in the arse and I felt guilty leaving all those instructions, but he seems happy.’ Max looked down at Keith who was sprawled on the floor in front of them, licking enthusiastically at his undercarriage.

  Neve thrust the bag of presents away and bit her lip. ‘Max, I don’t deserve any gifts. I was a terrible dog-sitter. Keith didn’t respect my authority at all!’

  Max didn’t seem that surprised as Neve began to explain how she’d failed to obey his list. Neve could tell he was trying hard not to laugh as if he’d suspected all along that she would cave in immediately under the pressure of a paw prodding her leg or prolonged nocturnal whimpering. He only looked annoyed when Neve confessed that Celia had brought home a range of dog outfits from the Skirt offices and they’d dressed Keith up and taken photos.

  ‘Christ, Neve,’ he snapped. ‘Thanks for violating him.’

  ‘But he loved it,’ she protested. ‘The next evening he brought me one of the T-shirts in his mouth, as if he wanted to put it on again.’

  She decided, on reflection, it was best not to tell Max that one of the outfits had been a tutu and that same night, she and Celia had let Keith sit on a kitchen chair so he could eat his freshly prepared lean steak mince at the table.

  She also decided that for someone who was so keen on boundaries and lines that shouldn’t be crossed, she wasn’t very good at enforcing them.

  ‘Just as well I’ve persuaded the dog-walker to take Keith again when we’re away,’ Max said, less sharply. ‘At least he doesn’t force Keith to dress up.’

  There’d been no forcing about it, but Neve still hung her head. ‘I’ll never do it again,’ she promised. ‘And thank you for my presents, unless you’re going to take them back now.’

  ‘Well, I would, but those slips really aren’t my colour,’ Max said solemnly. ‘Why don’t you try one on while I take Keith out for his last walk, and if I like what I see then I might be persuaded not to donate your presents to Oxfam tomorrow.’

  Neve could feel panic take a hard grip of her as Max stood up and nudged Keith gently out of slumber with his toe. ‘They might not fit,’ she offered nervously, but Max had already left the room and he couldn’t have heard as the front door opened and he was gone.

  It was actually their first mid-week sleepover but Neve didn’t have time to worry about the significance of that. She quickly showered, slipped into one of the soft bras she slept in because her breasts were still too large to be unfettered, and eyed the midnight-blue slip with some trepidation. It had a size M tag neatly stitched to a side seam, and try as she might, she still felt like an L or even an XL on a bad day.

  ‘Oh well, here goes absolutely nothing,’ she muttered to herself and pulled it carefully over her head because she didn’t want to tear the paper-thin fabric. Then she sucked in her tummy as far as she could, as if that was going to help, and let the silk fall. It did get stuck on her hips, but a gentle tug was all it took before the material was floating around her thighs and she was wearing a medium-sized slip.

  Neve padded quickly to her bedroom and the full-length cheval glass, which had taken a whole afternoon to achieve the most flattering degree of tilt. Her tilting skills had to be truly spectacular because the girl staring back at her in the mirror looked rather splendid.

  The slip was empire cut and fell in graceful folds from under her breasts, lovingly skimming over lumps and bumps to rest just above her knees. Neve pushed her breasts together with her arms to give herself a deep cleavage. Yes, she still had flabby upper arms and her shins were still sturdy and muscular, but the overall effect was actually …

  ‘Hot,’ said a purry voice behind her. ‘You look unbelievably hot, Neevy. I knew it would fit you perfectly.’

  ‘How did you know when I wasn’t sure until I tried it on?’ Neve asked Max’s shadowy reflection.

  ‘Well, I might not be allowed to look, but I’m allowed to touch, aren’t I?’ When Neve leaned back, she could feel the solid wall of his chest against her spine as his hands shaped her waist, then slid up to cup her breasts.

  Neve watched as the girl in the mirror obligingly slanted her head back so Max could kiss her neck as his thumbs rubbed against her nipples, which were suddenly hard and aching.

  They looked … no, she looked sexy for the first time in her life. She turned within the circle of his arms, so she could reach up on tiptoe and press fierce kisses against his mouth.

  ‘Thank you for my presents,’ she murmured against his lips. She didn’t just look sexy, she felt sexy too with Max hard against her because she’d made him that way. It was her turn to touch, pulling his T-shirt out of the way so her palms could graze over hot, dry skin and the tiny trickle of hair that she followed down and down and down. Max sucked in a breath, which allowed Neve enough room to slip her hands down his jeans and feel him getting harder as she traced the outline of his cock. ‘Do you want your present now?’

  It was a corny line but Max didn’t call her on it, because he was bucking into her hands, knees banging against her legs. ‘Yes,’ he whispered against her neck. ‘Yes.’

  And really it would have been a perfect time to take his hand to lead him over to the bed. For a moment Neve wondered if she should invoke a new sub-clause to the hand-holding rule, but it would have killed the mood. Pushing him backwards worked just as well.

  Max let her push him down on to the bed, his eyes burning bright in the lamp-light, as Neve straddled him, careful to rest her weight on her knees and her hands as she leaned down to kiss him; tiny nibbles of her lips, her tongue darting out, then retreating every time Max tried to kiss her back.

  ‘What’s got into you tonight?’ he asked, as Neve dragged him upright by his collar so she could yank his T-shirt over his head.

  ‘I think this slip has magical powers,’ Neve said with a grin and she did feel different. She looked hot; he’d said it twice and she felt hot too. It didn’t seem to matter that her experience was sorely lacking because her blood was bubbling in her veins and every inch of skin felt newly sensitised, and there was this pulsing in her clit, which made her act purely on instinct. ‘Now, I know I said I’d got you a present but I need to unwrap it. Is that all right with you?’

  Max nodded. ‘Fine with me.’

  ‘I thought you’d say that.’ Even her voice sounded different; a little dark, a little desperate as she settled back on her haunches and dealt with Max’s belt and buttons with fingers that didn’t falter.

  Max’s cock was hard and wet-tipped, lying almost flat against his stomach. Neve ran her finger up the large vein that ran un
derneath it. ‘Does it hurt when you’re like this?’

  Max shut his eyes. ‘Yeah. Kind of. But it’s a good kind of hurt.’

  Neve was there to put him out of his agony. She took hold of his dick with a firm grip and moved her hand up and down, gauging how well she was doing from the way Max threw his head back and arched off the bed.

  ‘Is there anything in particular you like?’

  She didn’t think Max had heard her until his eyes snapped open. ‘Give me your hand,’ he demanded in a raspy voice and when Neve complied, he seized her wrist, held her hand up to his mouth and ran his tongue along her palm. It made her shiver. And when his tongue darted between her fingers, she shifted her legs so she was straddling one of his thighs and could grind against him. ‘Now hold me tighter than you were,’ Max said, putting her hand back on his cock, his fingers covering hers and squeezing. ‘And you can do it harder and faster.’

  They worked together to bring him off, and when his hand fell away and he was oozing pre-cum over her fingers, Neve leaned forward in a cat-like stretch and took him in her mouth. She didn’t even attempt to do anything fancy; just tightened her lips around him and continued to move her hand along his shaft.

  Max’s hands tangled in her hair as if he didn’t know whether to pull her closer or pull her away and he was saying her name over and over again in a rising chant, until he said, ‘I’m going to come,’ as if it was a warning.

  Neve hollowed her cheeks and that was all it took.

  It was like getting a mouthful of water when she was swimming. Except the water tasted a little salty, a little bitter but not so foul that she wanted to gag. She placed one final kiss on the tip of Max’s half-hard cock, then sat back on her heels and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

  ‘Was that OK?’

  Max didn’t say anything, just stretched his arms above his head so Neve could see the frantic rise and fall of his chest. ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ he finally asked. With what looked like great effort, he managed to raise his head. ‘You haven’t been practising on anyone else, have you?’

  ‘Hardly,’ Neve snorted. ‘I did what I always do when I need information.’

  ‘You took out a book on blow-job technique from the British Library? They shouldn’t have books like that in there!’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if I should be looking in Social Sciences or Humanities. That was embarrassing, let me tell you.’

  ‘Neve, please. You’ve just let me come in your mouth and right now I don’t even remember my own name. I can’t tell whether you’re joking.’

  ‘I Googled it,’ Neve sighed. She crawled up the bed and curled herself around Max, smoothed back his damp hair and kissed his ear, the side of his neck. ‘You’ve still got your jeans on.’

  They were bunched around his knees because there hadn’t been time to take off his socks and sneakers. Neve shuffled to the foot of the bed and removed the offending items then kissed her way back up Max’s prone body, circling her tongue around each flat nipple, but he didn’t stir and when she lay down next to him again, his eyes were closed.

  ‘Max? Are you asleep?’

  There was no answer and while Neve was pleased that she’d proved to be such a quick learner in the art of oral thanks to the article A Gay Guy’s Guide To Giving Head that she’d found online, she hoped that Max would find his second wind soon. Because the article hadn’t said anything about how arousing it was to give, not just receive, and now she was wet and wanting. She was also seriously contemplating taking matters into her own hands. Would Max want to watch? Would she let him?

  ‘I’ve never seen anyone look so pleased with themselves.’ Max had found the energy to open one eye.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say I was pleased exactly,’ Neve said meaningfully, looking at him from under her lashes and hoping he could take a hint.

  ‘Smug, then?’ Max suggested sleepily.

  ‘I think it was a respectable first effort.’ Neve snuggled closer, so she could hitch a leg over his and run a hand down his chest casually, as if it was a simple, affectionate caress that just happened to bring her fingers into contact with his cock, which looked as sleepy as the rest of him.

  Still, there was no harm in trying, Neve thought, and prodded it gently with the tip of her index finger to see if it had a bit of life left in it. ‘God, don’t!’ Max winced. ‘Have you any idea how sensitive a dick is after a man comes?’

  Neve snatched her hand away. ‘I’m sorry! I was just … I wanted to …’ She flopped back down on her side of the bed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Wanted to what?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Neve said firmly, because the moment Max was asleep she was going to the bathroom with her copy of The Pearl, though actually she was rapidly cooling off. ‘Go to sleep.’

  Max gave a happy grunt and settled back down. He was asleep in an instant, Neve could tell because his limbs slackened and there was a steady up down, up down of his chest. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, but before her feet could make contact with the floor, Max’s arm suddenly wrapped around her waist and hauled her back.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he asked in a voice that didn’t sound the least bit sleep-fogged any more.

  ‘To the loo … what are you doing?’ Neve yelped, as Max flipped her over and pinned her arms above her head.

  ‘Payback,’ he replied succinctly, letting go of her wrists because they both knew she’d keep her arms exactly where he wanted them. ‘Time for you to get yours.’

  All it took was one hot hand sliding up her thigh and one hot kiss pressed against the flesh that Max had just uncovered to have Neve back in the moment. The moment where she wanted to writhe and arch into the touch of Max’s clever fingers and mouth.

  ‘Any chance you might take this off?’ he asked, as he settled himself on his stomach between her thighs and tugged at her slip.

  ‘Not a cat’s chance in hell,’ Neve murmured, reaching over to snap off the bedside light for good measure.

  ‘I can’t see what I’m doing,’ Max protested, his breath ghosting against the wet lips of her pussy. And when Neve let out an impatient moan, his tongue darted out to taste the sticky glaze that coated her. ‘Oh, well. Guess I’ll have to feel my way.’

  PART THREE

  Some Of Your Lovin’

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Neve slept the whole night with Max’s arm tight round her, and she wasn’t too hot or too cold. She was perfect. Just perfect. She hadn’t slept so well in months.

  She only opened her eyes when she felt Max stir and kiss the back of her neck.

  ‘What time is it?’ she mumbled.

  ‘Nearly seven,’ Max said. ‘I have to walk Keith and I’ve got two pieces of copy to file before we go to Manchester on Thursday. I need to get up.’

  Neve was so comfy that she clamped her arm over his when Max tried to loosen his grip on her waist. ‘Don’t go. Keith will let you know when he wants to go out. He’s better than an alarm clock.’

  ‘I should … well, I suppose ten minutes won’t make much difference.’

  The sun was streaming in through a chink in the curtains and Neve felt as if the whole room was bathed in light and that it was a precursor to what was going to be a glorious day, even if she had to spend most of it in a windowless basement transcribing tapes from a dead academic who’d had a very boring sideline in botanical studies.

  Max ran his fingers through her hair. She could feel him tugging on the strands, holding them up to the light. ‘You’ve got strands of auburn in your hair. Never noticed that before. How long have we got?’

  ‘You said we were good for at least another ten minutes.’

  ‘No, I meant: how long before Mr California isn’t in California any more?’

  Neve rolled over because this sudden change in topic felt like the sort of thing that should be discussed face to face. ‘His name’s William,’ she said softly. ‘And in his last letter, he m
entioned July. Mid-July.’

  ‘It’s the middle of April now,’ Max said, as Neve stroked the little freckle that sat high up on his cheekbone. ‘That’s three months and I want us to make the most of them. Will you promise me that you’ll stop obsessing about what this all means and just, y’know, live in the moment?’

  Living in the moment was something that Neve had always shied away from, in much the same way that she studiously avoided tapered trousers and anything deep-fried, but she found herself nodding in agreement. ‘I’d like that. Still not holding your hand though.’

  Max smiled so sweetly that Neve could have got a sugar high just from the curve of his lips. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less,’ he said, inching forward, even though they were almost nose to nose as it was. ‘How about we seal it with a kiss instead?’

  ‘Let me brush my teeth,’ Neve started to protest. ‘Although I suppose not brushing my teeth would fall under the category of “living in the moment”.’

  ‘I can handle a bit of morning mouth,’ Max said, the smile still there as he kissed her.

  Neve thought the sleepy, soft, early-morning kisses might morph into something more urgent as their bodies strained towards each other and hands began to explore, until there was a scrabbling at her bedroom door, followed by a pitiful and urgent whimpering.

  With a cardigan over her nightie, Neve saw Max and Keith out. Despite the sun, there was still a bite to the air and she stood on the doorstep trying not to shiver as they made arrangements for the journey to Manchester.

  ‘I’ll pick you up at eleven sharp on Thursday morning after I’ve dropped Keith off at the dog-sitter,’ Max said. ‘Bill and Jean are having cocktails in the hotel bar from eight. Should leave us enough time to get there and get ready. Is that all right?’