Promised Nights

by Louise Bay

  “I need to shower,” I said.

  “Afterward. I have to get you dirtier first. I need to be inside you without any distractions.”

  He let go of me, and I slid down his body, backing up onto the bed. “Turn over. On all fours. I just . . . I’ll try to . . . Jesus, I’m going to lose it.”

  I loved that he wanted me so much he couldn’t control himself. “Don’t try to do anything. Just have me as you want me.”

  “I don’t want—”

  “You’re not going to hurt me. I want you to show me how much you need me.” I turned around, positioned myself on all fours and looked back at him. I was desperate to be fucked by him, to feel the length of him inside me, thickening, hardening. It was a powerful feeling that created a weakness in me at the same time.

  “Fuck.” He grabbed my hips, pushed into me immediately and stopped. I gasped at the feel of him. Each time it was unexpected how he filled me, as if I were made only for him.

  His breath was hot on my skin as he ran his nose along my spine, gathering his strength and sliding his hands from my waist to my shoulders.

  “I’m addicted to how you smell. It reminds me of . . . home.” He bit down on my shoulder and sucked until it hurt and I was begging him to fuck me. “And I love to taste you.”

  I was sure he’d left a mark. I shuddered at having a semi-permanent reminder of him on my skin.

  “Please. I want it.”

  “Tell me,” he whispered in my ear. He liked me to talk to him, said he wanted to hear my dirty words. I couldn’t stop them from falling from my mouth even if I’d wanted to.

  “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk for the rest of the day.”

  He groaned, and I pushed back, urging him to begin his rhythm.

  “What else?” he asked.

  “I want you to slide inside me and feel how wet you make me. How desperate I am for your cock. How I’d do anything just to have you fuck me—” He extracted truths when he fucked me. I couldn’t hide anything when we were together like this.

  My words had the desired effect, and he started to pump in and out. I arched my back in relief as he pulled his tacky fingers down my spine, tracing his thumb lower and brushing over the puckered flesh of my anus. I wanted it all; I wanted to feel him in every possible way.

  He reached around over my hips, down to my clit and circled the bundle of nerves. My words came more rapidly. “Yes. More. Harder. Just. Like. That.”

  The skin across my body buzzed and seemed to weaken me. My arms collapsed, and I fell forward, changing the angle of his penetration. I gasped and clenched, eliciting groans from Luke that became louder and louder. He betrayed his desperation, interrupting his rhythm as he tried to get deeper and deeper, grasping my hips, and then at my shoulders, pulling me toward him. I let him take over my body, offering no resistance as he pushed and pulled as he needed. It was too much, too good, too perfect.

  His hands were all over me, alternating between rounding my clit, pulling at my painfully hard nipples and grazing my ass. Each time his thumb pushed a little harder, stayed a little longer. “Yes,” I gasped finally as I felt his slick-coated thumb begin to press. He didn’t need to hold back. “More.”

  “Jesus, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned, maintaining his rhythm perfectly as his thumb pushed inside, past the bunched ring of muscles. The sensation was too much. My blood drummed in my ears, and I closed my eyes as my orgasm caught up with me, as if it were breaking out of my core and running along my limbs.

  Luke let out an unintelligible cry from behind me, and the pads of his fingers pressed so deep I thought he was climbing inside me. My legs buckled under the force of his thrusts, and I lay flat on the bed as he chased his orgasm. Seconds later, he released himself into me.

  He collapsed on top of me then rolled to my side. “What are you doing to me?” His voice was thick with exertion as he pulled my limp body so I was strewn across him. “You’re amazing. I love you.”

  “You’re amazing, and I love you.”

  “Then there will be plenty of amazing to go around in this flat when you move in.”

  “There’s no way you can hold me to that. You were torturing me. You’re the lawyer; you should know that evidence obtained as a result of duress doesn’t hold up in court.”

  Luke pushed himself up on his elbows, and I looked at him from my position on his chest. “You’re moving in with me, Ashleigh. You agreed and I’m holding you—”

  “You don’t think it’s too fast?” Normal couples didn’t live together weeks after getting together. I hated to ruin what we had by moving too quickly.

  “We’ve been waiting our whole lives. We know each other better than almost anyone else in the entire world. Let’s not waste any more time.” His tone was equally pleading and determined, and I found that I wasn’t as panicked as perhaps I should be. Maybe we were special.

  I got butterflies at the thought that we might actually be doing this. “I insist on paying you rent.”

  “You’re my lover, not my roommate.” He linked his fingers through mine. “We’ll be paying a mortgage, and I’ll cover it while you’re in school.”

  I pressed my lips to his chest. It was time to believe in the fairytale and take a leap of faith.

  “Okay,” I mumbled.

  “What was that?”

  I looked up, and he was grinning at me.

  “Okay,” I repeated.

  “Okay? Okay what?”

  Apparently, Luke’s desire to torture me hadn’t dimmed.

  “Okay, I’ll move in with you. As long as you promise me orgasms on demand.”

  “So, you want me to be your Orgasm Netflix?”

  I nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want.”

  Luke rolled me over and propped himself up next to me. “Are you just using me for sex?”

  I grinned. “Ummm, yes. I thought we were clear about that?”

  “Right,” he replied, jumping off the bed. I wondered if he was mad until he grabbed me by my feet, pulled me to the edge of the bed and hoisted me over his shoulder.

  “If you want orgasms, you’re going to have to shower regularly.”

  I squealed as he slapped my ass and stalked into the bathroom.

  Twenty-Eight

  Luke

  I slumped on the sofa in Ashleigh’s flat.

  “You’re bored.”

  Ashleigh was right, but I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it.

  “I said for you to go for a run while I do this.”

  We were meant to be packing her flat up, readying for the movers coming tomorrow. But she had so much crap, it didn’t seem like we were making much progress. All morning she had been giving me reasons why living together wasn’t going to work out, and it was fucking me off.

  “I know, but I want to be with you. It’s just, you know, this stuff is boring. I want to skip to the bit where we’re waking up naked on Sunday morning together.”

  “Life is boring. We can’t spend all our time in bed. If I’m living with you, you’re going to be bored more and more often.”

  I sighed. “You’re pissing me off now. It’s as if you’re looking for an argument, and I’m just not going to give you one. You’re not sabotaging this.”

  “Me?” she yelled. “You’re the one that wanted us to move in together. It’s your fault.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m a terrible person. I just want us to be happy. Go ahead and shoot me.”

  When Ashleigh didn’t reply, I turned. Her mouth was scrunched up. She was clearly thinking about how she was going to respond.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. She moved toward the sofa where I was sitting and stood in front of me. “I’m just nervous. I want everything to be perfect and all my shit is everywhere and there’s more than I thought and I don’t see how it’s all going to fit—”

  “Ashleigh, take a breath, or you’re going to pass out and that’s really going to piss me off.” I grabbed her hand a
nd pulled her onto my lap. “We’re going to have bumps along the way and nothing’s going to be perfect, but that’s okay as long as we’re both heading in the same direction. You’ve got to understand that our future is together, and nothing is going to change that.”

  She pushed her bottom lip out like a toddler. “I love you, and I want to live with you. It’s just . . . it’s stressful.”

  I pulled her close and snaked my arms around her waist. “I know it is. But there’s nothing to be nervous about. I’ve seen you hung over with panda eyes. I’ve seen you ugly cry. I’ve put up with your crazy when your hormonal hurricane hits. And I don’t love you in spite of all that—I love you because of all that stuff. We know each other, Ashleigh.”

  She smoothed her hands over my chest and rested her cheek against my shirt. “This romantic, grown-up, protective side of you is, well, not new, but more concentrated than before. Does that make sense?”

  She was right. I was a little different with her now. I’d always been protective of her, but now I’d kill for her. “I told you. You bring all that stuff, all that good, out in me.” I was a better man with her.

  “Okay, they’re calm,” she said, gazing at me.

  “Who are?”

  “The leprechauns who’ve been running about in my stomach all morning. They’ve all had a dose of the Luke Daniels’ sedative.”

  “Now you’ve got me worried. If you have leprechauns living inside you, then maybe it’s not such a good idea to be moving in together. Maybe you’re better off in a mental health facility.” I chuckled as she rolled her eyes at me as if I were the one who had said something ridiculous. “Actually, speaking of leprechauns, I have a wives and girlfriends thing at work next weekend. I keep meaning to tell you. Can you come?”

  “And it involves leprechauns? Well then, yes of course. I love leprechauns.”

  Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “I’m serious. It’s a client thing. A rugby match—England’s playing Ireland on Saturday.”

  “Sure.” She shrugged.

  “Sure?” Was it really going to be that easy? Emma had never wanted to come to my work events.

  “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

  And just like that, she was trying to make me happy, wanting to spend time with me, wherever we were. It had never been like that with Emma.

  “I’ll have to teach you the rules. I don’t want you to be like the other WAGs there.”

  “I’ve known you for more than twenty years. You think I’ve not picked up on how Rugby Union is played?”

  I bent my head and dropped a kiss on the corner of her mouth, trying to distract myself from the swell of pride in my chest. I loved that my girl knew rugby, that she knew me so well. “You smell good.”

  “You always say that.”

  “That’s because it’s always true.”

  She pulled away from me. “Okay, let’s kick ass with this packing and then go back to yours and get naked.”

  “Now, there’s an incentive. I’ll start on the kitchen.”

  “I’m putting on some motivating music.” Ashleigh moved toward her speaker system.

  “Okay, but, please God, lay off the P!nk.” I found an empty packing box and took it into the kitchen. “Jesus,” I whispered to myself as the strains of Taylor Swift filtered in from the living room.

  “Sorry,” Ashleigh shouted and Miss Swift gave way to Otis Redding. A perfect compromise.

  I grinned and started to pull out saucepans from the cupboard nearest the door. We were doing this. We were really doing this. I’d lived with Emma, but for me that had been about pooling resources. With Ashleigh, it was about starting a future together. Emma had told me that moving in, for her, had been the first step toward marriage and kids. I’d never seen it like that. But of course, that was exactly what it should have been. I’d been naïve and unwittingly cruel. A slice of guilt cut through me as I thought about it.

  I just hadn’t realized how love should be.

  I finished the kitchen off quickly and went to see what progress Ashleigh had made. Otis Redding had since melted into Stevie Wonder. I found her in her bedroom, her back toward me and her hands on her hips, looking around for her next task. I knew what Stevie meant—Ashleigh knocked me off my feet.

  “I think I’m done,” she said as she caught me gazing at her. “How are you getting on?”

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets to stop myself from pushing her up against the wall and ripping her underwear off. “Kitchen’s all packed up.”

  “Well then, that’s it. I don’t need to pack my clothes. The movers said they’d do that. Jesus, how are we going to fit all this stuff in your place?”

  “Our place.”

  Ashleigh smiled. “Yes, I suppose it will be.”

  “We can move if the space isn’t right. I’m only renting month to month. We really should find somewhere to buy together.” As usual, my mind was racing forward to the next phase of our lives while Ashleigh was still getting used to moving in together.

  “Are you trying to give me a coronary? Let me get used to this first. One step at a time.”

  And there was the answer to the question of whether or not she was ready for me to propose. My heart sank a little. I’d passed by the jewelers in Hatton Garden twice since I’d first seen the ring I had in mind for her. It was still in the window, but I didn’t know how long that would last. I really wanted to show it to her, to ask her. She clearly wasn’t ready. Perhaps I could get it now and just hold on to it until the time was right? I was pretty sure I could get Ashleigh to a place where she wanted to be my wife. I just wasn’t sure how long it would take.

  “Okay, so let’s get back for NCN.”

  “Should I ask what NCN is? Promise me it’s not sports.” She clasped her hands together in front of herself in a mock prayer.

  “Naked Chinese Night, obviously. It can be our first new tradition.”

  “You’re crazy.” She pushed at my chest.

  “But you love me anyway.”

  “I love you because you’re crazy, not in spite of it.” She lifted up on her toes and grazed her lips over my jaw. There was no better feeling. Now I just had to get her to marry me, and life would be perfect.

  Ashleigh

  “We’re going to need a bigger place.” Wherever I looked there was a half-unpacked cardboard box. How was it possible to have accumulated so much stuff in less than thirty years on this planet—and on a nurse’s salary? With two pairs of evening shoes, I wasn’t a girl who thought of herself as having a lot of things. Apparently, I was wrong.

  Luke chuckled. “You think? I don’t want to say I told you so—hell, what am I saying? I don’t mind saying it at all. I told you so.”

  “Whatever. You were right.”

  “So, we’ll look at places to buy?”

  I shrugged. Now I was here with all my things, it felt less strange than I’d expected it to. Luke was right. It was inevitable that we were going to be together, so it was easier to accept that and move forward rather than constantly put the brakes on. “Fine, but can you at least wait until tomorrow to start Googling? We have guests due any minute. Whose idea was it to do Sunday dinner here anyway?” I narrowed my eyes accusingly at Luke.

  “Erm, that would be you.”

  “It can’t have been me because, as you know, I’m perfect, and Beth, Jake and Haven arriving in less than thirty minutes is far from perfect. I’m blaming Jake.”

  “Okay, that works. He’ll be fine with that.”

  The chicken was in the oven, the bathroom clean. I just needed to clear out some of the boxes, and we’d be halfway to making the place look cramped and uncared for, which would be a distinct improvement. I’d wanted to welcome my family into our home, and for everything to be shiny and beautiful. That wasn’t going to happen, and I had to accept that.

  “What’s that smell?” I jerked my head toward the kitchen. Luke bolted for the oven, bringing the glass door down with a thump.

  “Crispy chick
en is always better than soggy chicken,” Luke said as he stared into the cooker. He was authoritative but unconvincing.

  My shoulders sagged. “Let’s take a look.” I peered into the oven to see what looked like a large lump of coal. “Well, at least we can be sure it’s dead.”

  Luke chuckled. “Yes, that’s for certain. It doesn’t matter. I could do a chili, or what about enchiladas?”

  I looked at my watch. “Make out with me?”

  “What did you say?”

  “I don’t care about the chicken or what’s going to replace it. I don’t care that the place is a mess or that I need to brush my hair. We have twenty-five minutes. It’s not long enough to get naked. So let’s make out. We can worry about what we’re going to eat when people arrive.” Having all my stuff unpacked and being able to produce Sunday dinner no longer seemed so important. Luke was what I wanted, and I needed to make sure I didn’t lose sight of that. I lifted myself up onto the kitchen counter and grabbed at his shirt, pulling him over to me so he was standing between my legs. “De-stress me.”

  He smoothed his hands over my hips and kissed my forehead. I sank into his touch, the anxiety seeping away. He was all I needed.

  The intercom buzzed, and we pulled away from each other, exchanging confused glances. We should have had twenty-five minutes of delicious kissing before we were interrupted.

  “Stay there; maybe it’s someone who has the wrong flat.” Luke went to investigate. Before he’d reached the intercom, someone was banging on the front door. I slid off the counter. Our make-out session was clearly on hiatus.

  I heard Haven scream, and I padded toward the ruckus in time to see her push past Luke and bolt into the guest bathroom.

  “Sorry, mate, she’s been like that all week,” Jake explained as he handed Luke a bottle of wine.

  “Irritable and pushy? She’s been like that her whole life,” Luke responded.

  “It’s morning sickness,” Jake said.

  Haven hadn’t mentioned being sick when I’d spoken to her earlier in the week.

  “Hey there, how are the internet videos going? The feedback on that one with the honey was amazing,” I told Beth, who was hiding behind Jake.