Punching and Kissing

by Helena Newbury

  He bent his head and then looked up at me through those heavy brows. For a second, I thought he was going to tell me. Then he shook his head. “Ah, hell. I didn’t mean to get into this. Tonight was meant to be about you.”

  I felt the mood changing. Our wonderful, glamorous night being dragged down into a black, oily sea.

  “It can’t be that bad,” I whispered.

  He nodded that it was. I could see the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensing under his shirt, his frustration building. Frustration at what?

  “I like you,” he said again. “I really do.” He was silent for a moment. “But maybe you shouldn’t be around me.”

  I reached across and stroked his cheek. “Why would you say that?”

  He sighed and hung his head. I could sense the pressure of it inside him, his past expanding to push away everything good we’d built up. The closer we got, the more he seemed to return to the closed-off man I’d met at The Pit.

  I felt as if my heart was made of paper and someone was slowly, cruelly ripping it down the center. I could feel him slipping away and whatever I said didn’t seem to make any difference. “Tell me! I like you! I don’t care what happened. You’re right for me!”

  “I’m not right for anyone,” he snapped. “And it’s not just what happened. It’s what I am.” He glanced around. “Do you know why I’ve been getting dirty looks all night?”

  I looked around us. Everyone was studiously avoiding looking at me. When I caught a waiter’s eye, he glanced at Aedan...and yes, I saw his lip curl in distaste.

  I’d gotten it wrong, when we walked in. They were all looking at Aedan, but not for the reason I thought. “Why?” I whispered.

  The restaurant seemed to grow very quiet, or maybe I was just so focused on his next words that it seemed that way.

  “They think I beat you up,” he said.

  The restaurant, previously so friendly and inviting, became a sea of hostile faces, all staring at us. Judging us. Judging him for raising his fists to me and judging me for taking it and not running to a shelter. You’re enabling him, the women silently hissed at me. You’re letting him hit you and then letting him buy forgiveness by taking you out to dinner. God, you’re pathetic. A few of them seemed more sympathetic. She’s probably trapped. Co-dependent. Maybe there are kids. Maybe she has nowhere else to go. I wonder if I should say something.

  Everyone so sure they were right.

  I stood on shaking legs. Aedan looked up, startled. He seemed to realize what I was going to do just as my mouth opened, but by then even he couldn’t have stopped me.

  “HE DOESN’T HIT ME!” I yelled. The whole room turned to look at us.

  “Sylvie—” started Aedan.

  “This is my boyfriend,” I announced, acid dripping from my words, “and he doesn’t hit me. I was in a fight, you presumptuous, judgmental fucks!”

  The room was completely silent. I could hear individual people breathing.

  Aedan took out his wallet and counted some bills out onto the table, then stood up and took my hand to lead me towards the door. He was looking at me in total amazement...and respect.

  I refused to move for a moment. I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a deep, long kiss, pressing myself up against his chest. He got over his shock quickly and kissed me back just as hard, his hands going down to my ass.

  Only then did I let him lead me outside.

  “Thank you,” he said, still sounding stunned. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I’m not having people think that about you,” I told him.

  He stared at me sadly. “They’re right. I don’t hit you but I’m just a”—he stared down at his hands—“just a...thug.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “It’s still true. I’ve done stuff that...” He shook his head. “You deserve better. You deserve a good guy.”

  I could see him fighting with himself. God, what was this thing that was tearing him apart on the inside? He’d brought me out on this date, he obviously wanted to be with me...and now he was pushing me away to protect me.

  Well, the hell with that.

  I pressed myself close to him again, feeling his warmth. “Maybe a bad guy is what I want. Because I want you.”

  He took a deep breath and stared off down the street for a long time, not meeting my eyes. When he finally looked back at me, things had changed. He’d come to a decision. He gave me that same hot lick of a look he’d given me when I’d first seen him at The Pit. Then he pushed me back against the nearest wall and kissed me with a raw, breathless intensity. It was as if a dam had broken inside him. He leaned in close. “Okay, then,” he muttered. “If that’s what you want, Sylvie...that’s what you’ll get.”

  Aedan

  Her apartment was closer. It was the first time I’d been there—a whole part of her life that I hadn’t seen yet. I was on her territory now, bringing all the bad shit that came with me into her world.

  But that’s what she wanted. And maybe it was finally time to start listening.

  We were tearing at each other’s clothes even as we came in the door. Sylvie had her hands under my shirt, sliding over my stomach and then around back to trace the muscles there. She pressed herself against my chest, kissing me, barely coming up for air, and I groaned at the way her breasts pillowed against me. I already had my hands on her ass, squeezing the firm cheeks through the silky fabric of her dress, loving the way it slid over her skin. She wriggled against me and her breasts did wonderful things against my chest. Hell yeah!

  After the summer heat outside, the apartment was blissfully cool from having been unoccupied for a couple of days. The semi-darkness made it seem cooler, so we didn’t bother switching on the lights. The blinds were still open and there was enough light coming in from outside for us to see by. I stepped back from her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. She looked even more like an angel, in the white dress. An angel...maybe that was exactly what a monster like me needed.

  I pushed her up against the wall of the hallway, knocking a picture off the wall. I slid my fingers through her hair, tangling them in it. My tongue traced the line of her upper lip and I kissed her, finding her open-mouthed and panting. I put a hand on her forehead, gently pinning her head for a second while I devoured her lower lip, nibbling and sucking. I thrust my other hand up the side of her dress, pushing the hem higher as it slid up her leg. God, her skin was so smooth, so perfect. I could feel her ass grinding against the wall in anticipation. I dodged past her bruised hip and started to rub her inner thigh in slow circles, toying with the edge of her panties. She gave a low moan in her throat, her breathing hitching faster and faster.

  I was pushed between her thighs, grinding the hard bulge of my cock against her, but it wasn’t enough. I had to feel every part of her. I pulled her away from the wall and spun her around so that her ass was against my crotch, my length nestled right between those firm, rounded cheeks. I kept one hand on her hip, rubbing and rubbing, never quite moving onto her panties, teasing her. I slid the other hand under her dress, under her bra, cupping her naked breast. God, but that felt good. The smooth roll of the flesh against my palm, the scrape of the hardening nipple against my fingers as I squeezed and rubbed. Then the urgent stiffening of the little bud as she groaned and writhed harder against me.

  I half-walked, half-dragged her through to the living room. We collided with a coffee table and a stack of books and papers crashed to the floor. Both of us were panting, now, gasping our excitement. It was different to what happened on the gym roof, different even to the night before, when I’d gone down on her at my place. I’d been unleashed. My demons had let go of me, or maybe I’d let go of them. I knew it wasn’t final. I knew that, eventually, I was going to have to tell her. But for now, I was free.

  Both hands still under her dress, I guided her to the table and then lifted her so that she was sitting on the edge, pushing aside the stuff that was there. A vase tipped over and t
here was a glug of spilling water. She was breathless and wide-eyed in the semi-darkness, wondering what I was going to do next. I slid both hands down and hiked the dress the rest of the way up to her waist, baring those long, elegant legs.

  I opened her thighs, going slow to make sure I didn’t hurt her hip. Then I stepped between her knees and cupped her through her panties.

  Second best feeling in the world? The soft warmth of a pussy against your palm. I didn’t even have to move. Just the slight movement of her own breathing was enough to rub her lips against my hand through the thin fabric. And as soon as that started, that slow rasp wasn’t enough. She needed more, and she started subtly grinding against me to get it.

  Best feeling in the world? A woman grinding herself against your palm, to show how much she wants you. I kissed her again, this time just using my lips to part hers and letting her kiss me. Her tongue slipped into my mouth immediately, eagerly seeking mine out. I began to rub her gently through her panties, the heel of my hand grinding against her clit with each stroke, and she moaned, the sound vibrating against my lips.

  I pulled back a little, breaking the kiss, because I wanted to look at her. She was absolute perfection. Sitting there on the edge of the table, that silky white dress still halfway decent on top, but hiked up to her hips down below. Her legs wantonly spread. Her long, black hair silky but disheveled where I’d run my hands through it again and again. And those soft, pink lips parted in pleasure, her breath coming in quick little pants. She really could have been a fallen angel, seduced by the devil.

  She reached for me, eyes still closed, focused on the feel of my hand between her thighs. She started to undo my shirt buttons, doing it by feel. It was the perfect opportunity to gaze at her uninterrupted. That gorgeous face, marred only temporarily by that bitch who’d fought her. I wouldn’t care even if those marks had lasted forever. She was perfect to me, no matter what.

  My shirt came open. She leaned forward to kiss my chest and that moved her pussy against my hand. Both of us groaned. Then the soft touch of her lips against my pec. I caught my breath. She started to work her way down. When she licked at my nipple, I let out a growl. My cock felt as if it was going to rip right through my jeans.

  I leaned forward, my mouth right next to her ear. “Does that feel good?” I ran my thumb across her pussy, strumming across the lips. I could feel her wetness soaking through her panties, but I wanted to hear her say it.

  “Yesss!”

  “Tell me what you want.” We hadn’t really done the dirty talk thing since the rooftop, but now I wanted more and more of it. The sound of her voice, low and throaty with excitement, was the ultimate turn on.

  “I want you to not stop,” she whispered, her breath hot against my spit-slick nipple. She ground even harder into my hand.

  “Like this?” I sped up a little.

  “Oh, God, like that!”

  “You’re wet. You’re soaking wet, Sylvie. I bet if I—” I couldn’t resist it any longer. I grabbed her panties with both hands and pulled them down around her knees, stepping back to give myself room. Then I speared two fingers up inside her, hard and fast. God, she was soaking, her inner walls hot and silken, almost dripping for me. She cried out and closed her thighs hard around my hand, trapping it there. I began to pump my fingers. “God, you’re so wet. Do you want it?” I pushed up against her leg, letting her feel the bulge at my crotch. “You want this?”

  “Ah—Yes….”

  I pumped faster, loving the feel of her, my long fingers sliding deep into her secret places. “Where? In your bedroom? On the couch?” I thrust faster still. “Where do you want me to fuck you, Sylvie?”

  “R—Right here,” she gasped. “Right here on the table.”

  Sylvie

  He stiffened a little and I felt my cheeks flush. God, had I gotten carried away? Had that sounded really slutty? It was his fault, him and his damn Irish accent. I’d never been big on talking dirty before, but with his voice it was incredible. I looked up at him, expecting him to look shocked.

  He didn’t look shocked. He looked more turned on than I’d ever seen him.

  He stopped touching my pussy for the first time in what felt like hours and, as the cool air of the room hit my lips, I really felt how sopping I was down there. Sitting on the table edge, legs slightly apart, panties halfway down my thighs, I’d never felt so...wanton. Or so turned on.

  His hands slid through my hair and he kissed me again, slow but deep. I felt his hands slide down my neck and then into the top of my dress and then he was reaching around, undoing the zipper with an expert hand. I felt the top of it loosen around my chest and my heart started hammering. I was already basically naked below the waist so I don’t know why it seemed like a big deal, but the feeling of being systematically stripped...I don’t know, it threw a switch somewhere in my brain. He pushed the dress off my shoulders and I felt the silky fabric slither down around my waist. Then he was kissing down my neck, leaving a trail of fire all the way down to my collarbone, and my bra was pulling tight for a second. I caught my breath in anticipation.

  There—the clasp came free and my bra loosened. His hands skimmed the straps off my arms and it fell onto my lap. My breasts ached and throbbed in the cool air of the apartment, begging for his touch, my nipples hardening as much from the feel of his gaze on them as from their sudden exposure. Then his hands were on them, squeezing them together and lifting them in slow circles so that the sensitive flesh rubbed against his palms. He kissed all around my open, panting mouth: my cheeks, my chin, my upper lip, always leaving my mouth itself alone so that I could moan out loud.

  Then his mouth was on my breasts, his tongue lapping at my nipples and swirling around them. He was just the right mixture of smooth and deliciously rough. First he’d kiss and lick at me, working his way inward across the breast to my nipple. Then he’d swirl his tongue around it in spirals, drawing it up to a quivering peak. And finally he’d bite gently at me, using his own lips as cushions over his teeth, until my feet were twisting together in circles and my nails were digging into the table top.

  And then he’d do it all over again. It went on and on, lifting me closer and closer to my peak.

  By the time he stopped, my breasts were shining and my hands were buried in that thick, dark Irish hair, dragging his head to me. I was trembling from being on the brink of an orgasm for so long. When he stepped back, I just sat there staring up at him, incapable of speech.

  “I want you to come,” he growled. “But I want to be in you. I want to feel it.”

  Oh Jesus yes!

  He drew my panties down my legs and off, then tossed them away. He stepped between my legs, knocking them apart a little farther with his hips. Then he undid his belt and let his jeans slide down. The shape of him was clear through his jockey shorts and, a second later, it was there in his hand, thick and long and pointing right up between my spread thighs. He stared right at me as he took a condom from his pocket and rolled it on. I stared down at myself as he came closer and closer, watching the tip of him approaching me. I wasn’t used to being able to see it like this, to actually watch as he—Oh God! The head of him pushed between my folds, spreading them. I felt myself opened up. It was different, like this, everything felt—Ah! He slid inside me, the girth of him stretching me just a little, making me grab for his shoulders. Everything felt different. And goddamn great.

  He stepped closer, pushing right up against me as he slid deeper. It would have been awkward if I hadn’t been so thoroughly, shamefully soaking for him. I let out a long moan and clasped my arms around his back as he pushed all the way into me, filling me completely. I squeezed my legs shut against his hips and that changed things again, making both of us gasp.

  “I love fucking you,” he said. “When I’m not with you, I dream about fucking you.”

  My brain and my heart did somersaults.

  His hands went out to grip my hips...but at the last moment, he must have remembered my bruised hip
because he grabbed my waist instead. He held me in place as he started to thrust, slowly at first but getting faster, those thickly-muscled thighs and tight ass giving him the power to really go at me. I threw my head back and luxuriated in the feel of him up inside me, so big, so gloriously wide, stroking against me, angled up so that he hit me in just the right spot—God!

  Ribbons of hot pleasure were starting to swirl their way upward, spreading out to every part of me, flaring into fire when they touched my breasts or lips, anywhere he’d touched me. I started to jerk my hips towards him, wanting more of him. The table began to shake as we slammed our bodies together as hard as we damn well could. My hands came down to clutch at his ass, digging my fingers into the solid muscle there.

  He sped up again and suddenly he lifted me and thrust his hands under my ass, cupping my cheeks. I groaned as he began to squeeze and knead me there in time with his thrusts. I’d been rocking back and forth a little before, but now his hands formed a firm little seat at the edge of the table, holding me in place for him. I groaned low in my throat as the increased friction sent me wild. Every thrust ended with a grind of his groin against my clit and I could feel the pleasure drawing tight, bursting free—

  I came, eyes squeezed shut, legs and arms wrapped around him, shuddering helplessly against him. His. He groaned as my body squeezed at his cock, but I didn’t feel him come.

  When I regained my senses, he was moving very gently inside me. “Are you ready for more?” he asked in a low, utterly filthy voice.

  More? I was still panting. But hell yeah I wanted more. I nodded.

  He lifted me up to standing. And then turned me around to face the table. He pushed me up against it so that my groin was at the edge and then pushed gently on my back.

  I got the idea, and the thought of it made a dark depth-charge of heat sink down to my groin and detonate there.