Rory

by Saskia Walker

  Moaning in frustration, she shifted restlessly against the futon mattress, her head rolling from side to side, the touch of his fingertips all over her skin making her nerve endings go crazy.

  “I can’t believe you waited for me.” His hands moved lower, stroking over her breasts and tummy.

  “I thought we would,” she mumbled, confused. “I mean…we nearly did.”

  “Yes, we nearly did. Several times, as I recall. I wanted you so badly you made me hard all the time.” With that he took her hand and led it to his erect cock.

  When she felt the hard, hot rod of his erection straining against her hand she gasped. “Rory, please...I’m a bit afraid.”

  “Don’t be.” His eyes shone darkly, as if he relished her confession.

  It made her pussy tighten with anticipation. “It turns you on, knowing I waited for you?”

  “I can’t deny it.” His expression was heavy with lust, with animal passion. “I’m here to look after you, precious. I think I know what you need, but if you don’t like anything I do, just tell me.”

  Grateful, Sky swallowed then nodded.

  He shifted, rolling his shoulders as if he was limbering up. It made her realize he’d been holding something back, just as she had. The guarded faces and actions had gone now though. She was lying there, bare and willing, and he was unleashed, like a prowling animal about to pounce.

  The futon creaked as he moved.

  His mouth descended to hers, and he kissed her again. Her mouth invited his tongue deeper and she sank into the experience, a moan of longing escaping her as they drew apart. Then she put her hands around the back of his neck, her fingers beneath his hair, and he pulled her in against him, kissing her hungrily. Her hands locked around his head as she gave herself over to him. With a strong grip, he put his hands beneath her buttocks, cupping them, taking charge. She clung to him gratefully.

  A trickle of moisture dampened her thighs. Torn between embarrassment and need, she moved instinctively, drawing one knee up, allowing him deeper between her thighs, where she ached for him. He brushed his fingers over her clit.

  She cried out, her body arching up.

  Rory made a growling sound deep in his throat, and then he moved his finger inside her. His touch seemed to swarm over her entire skin, like her whole body was networked to his fingertips. She writhed, made crazy by the intense feelings he triggered. She gasped loudly when his finger probed deeper, moaning with longing, every part of her desperate for him.

  The look in his eye claimed her to the core. With his free hand, he traced his finger around her right nipple. Following it with his mouth, he grazed it with his teeth. She moaned loudly.

  “Sensitive?”

  She bit her lip, nodded, unable to reply verbally. He sucked the other breast with his open mouth, grazing her again. A fever of longing raced under her skin. Unable to hold back, she sank into the experience riding the tide of pleasure.

  “You’re ready for me?” He ran an accusing finger down one side of her damp folds, and up the other side. He moved his hand. Captured between his knuckles, her clit pounded in ecstasy.

  It was too much, to be touched that way and to hear him say it aloud. “Rory!”

  He manipulated her tender bud, torturing her with pleasure. “Begging, huh?”

  With that, he dropped down and bent his head to lick her tight, hot clit.

  Disbelieving, she glanced down. The sight of his head there between her legs forced her to glance away. His tongue roved back and forth and then plunged into her. Sky melted on the spot. The more she moaned, the more he probed. She clutched at his shoulders, her body bucking. “Oh my god!”

  “Got to do this,” he said, lifting his head. His lips were wet with her juices.

  He pulled her body nearer with a jolt, positioning her hips, one large hand stroking up and down the length of his shaft, while he snatched up the condom packet with the other. Tearing it open with his teeth, he rolled the rubbed over his length.

  “You’re too big.”

  “Don’t fret. I’ll go slowly.” His mouth lifted at one corner, but mercifully he wasn’t smug with her. He wasted no time and began to ease inside her.

  The sudden pressure captured her senses fully. Staring up at him, she plucked at his shoulders with restless hands.

  “You’re very wet. Hopefully the pain won’t last long.”

  She nodded, helpless to deny it. She wanted this so badly she would take anything.

  Wrapping his hands under her buttocks, he nudged his knees beneath her bottom, lifting her. Slowly, he worked his erect cock inside her.

  A searing flash of pain hit her there. “Fuck, you’re too big.”

  “You’re made for this Sky. We just need to get you past the first time.” He paused but did not withdraw. Instead, his jaw turned granite and his expression grew serious. He held her still, his hands locked on her hips as she struggled against him. “When you’re ready, see if you can take more.”

  “Me?”

  “Sky, the waiting is killing me. See if you can meet me.”

  There was a challenge in his eyes and in his voice, and Sky’s spirit locked onto that. Holding her breath, she thrust her hips toward him, instead of away. Her vision blurred, she felt tears on her cheek.

  Stretched to capacity, his rigid cock filled her. Her entire pelvis flooded with sensation, a pulse at her center pounding. She could feel the solid length of his cock throbbing in her most sensitive place. Through the pain, pleasure rolled over her. Instinct took over. Rory was still holding back, waiting for her. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

  He nodded, then moved. Once. It was a shallow thrust, but it sent her crazy.

  The need for more grew urgent. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t stop!”

  The muscles in his neck were taut. His eyes shone with victory. He laughed, his expression devious.

  “Rory,” she whispered, her voice low and desperate, her hips rocking.

  He moved again, his eyes gleaming, his lips curling. “Now, we’re there.”

  When he thrust deeper she cried out with relief. “Oh god yes!”

  He kissed her hard and long, his hips rolling into hers all the while, encouraging her to join him by holding her hips, drawing her to him as he thrust inside her. “You crazy girl, I can’t believe you waited all this time.”

  She wrapped her hands around his back, marveling at the rippling muscle. Claiming him, her knees rose higher at his sides, while she devoured his kisses, increasingly feverish with longing for him. “So glad it was you,” she blinked back silly tears. “Oh god it’s so good!”

  The muscles in his arms flexed as he rose up and drove into her.

  In his eyes, she saw the power of the moment for him, his intense maleness surrounding her, claiming her. She arched beneath him, willing it on.

  He pushed his face into her hair, slid his other hand across her belly and then down. His fingers lodged at the place where they joined. Each time he thrust she moaned loudly, shocking herself with the sounds, but unable to stay quiet. Each time his cock crushed against her center, deep inside, sheer pleasure soared through her.

  “Good?” he whispered, his mouth at her neck, his teeth grazing her flesh.

  “Yes, yes.” She tried to say more, but words wouldn’t form.

  She was right there, on the edge of orgasm. A blaze of sensation raced through her, stealing her breath away, letting loose heat from every pour. At her center her body tightened rhythmically, stunning her. As the heat flamed out, it seemed to melt her flesh to his.

  “Sky...” He stopped moving. His eyelids lowered, his cock seemed to grow harder still, then she felt it lunge and jerk and he bellowed, his body shuddering.

  She clung to him in wonder.

  He kissed her face and held her, stroking her gently, staying close.

  With sweet and sudden realization, she listened to their twin heartbeats, racing, so close together, so unified. It was so precious she didn’t want it to
end.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Rory raced through the gears, steering his Triumph Thunderbird Commander motorcycle through the queuing cars in the London traffic. He was late, and he hadn’t even slept. Sky hadn’t wanted to, and neither had he.

  He’d been her first, which astonished him. It also set off warning bells. Why had it even happened? He’d vowed to walk away from her. He probably should have. Eventually he’d left when the tube stations opened. He made the first train home, where he showered and changed and got on his bike to head to work.

  Normally he tried to get to work before the big commuter jam hit, but he was right in it today and kept weaving through log jammed traffic. He felt like he had a wild demon on his tail and he had to outride it. Bad decisions were like that, and he was pretty sure he’d made one. Had to be the case, because he couldn’t shake off thoughts of the night before.

  Roaring along the embankment carriageway at the Thames riverside, he passed stationary traffic. Car drivers glared at him while they queued to pay their city congestion charges. It always gave Rory a kick.

  Minutes later he turned off the dual carriageway and followed the road along the rail tracks that went east. The workshop was under the railway arches some four miles further on the tracks, but he liked to weave as close to the rail track as he could, learning the side streets. When they first came to the city, courier work was one of the things the three of them did to make cash. It had been a goal, to learn his way around the back routes of London in case he could get more courier work later on. As it happened, once he signed up to work with George at the classic bike shop he didn’t need to, but he’d got into the habit and still liked to source the craftiest side routes.

  Dropping down through the gears, he slowed and turned into the narrow street where the workshop was located. The arched wooden gates stood open, latched back on massive wrought iron hooks, indicating George was already in and working.

  When he got to the workshop, he switched off the engine, dismounted and wheeled the bike inside to the back of the shop, where he parked it up safely out of view from the street. It wasn’t a salubrious area and George often warned Rory to be cautious and keep his eyes peeled.

  George was on a phone call, chortling heavily over a badly picked parts order.

  Rory was glad of it. His thoughts were clouded and George liked to chat on a morning. He wasn’t ready. He was still trying to process what had happened the night before. Sky. Laying there with her in his arms while the sky lightened had been too good. She’d dozed for a while, so he allowed himself to enjoy the closeness, even while his brain kicked into gear and told him to get the hell out of there.

  He thought about slipping away and leaving her sleeping, but she stirred on the futon mattress while he dressed. Not wanting to abandon her, he kissed her awake and asked her what time she was working her shift. She’d purred like a contented kitten, looping her arms around his neck and smiling up at him. Staying would have been too easy.

  He’d promised to be there at the Coffee Hut to meet her when she was done. Why? So he’d slept with her. She’d given him her gift, and he’d wanted it and savored it. But now he had to get back to shucking off his past mistakes—namely cruising on computer hacking for his first year in London. He had to keep her out of it. Shit could go down, and he wanted to protect Sky from it.

  Picking up his tool box, he carried it over to the two bikes awaiting his attention. Strolling to the workbench, he leafed through the duty book to see which bike was being collected first. It was the BMW, and all it needed new spark plugs and an oil change which was good. The other bike was a Triumph Bonneville, and he could service that with his eyes shut.

  While he went to work he tried to clear his head and concentrate, but all he could do was think of was Sky, and the way she’d looked when they had sex. Of all the women in all the world, he never thought she could look so vulnerable, that he would be afraid to let her go in case she shattered. Why the hell was that? It was some weird puzzle in his head, like making love with her had let loose crazy concerns for her ongoing safety. Or were those concerns always there and it was about him, they were bad for each other because of his illegal doings?

  The wrench slipped from his hand and he swore loudly.

  George had finished his call and wandered over, picked up the dropped wrench and passed it back to him. “You’re not having a good morning.”

  “Thanks.” Rory returned to the task in hand but George stood by, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully as he watched on. “Sorry I was late.”

  “It’s rare, so it doesn’t matter.” After a few moments he sat down on a stack of tires.

  Rory knew what this meant. George wanted to talk. Glancing sideways, Rory looked up from where he squatted by the bike. “Did you get the parts mix up sorted?”

  George nodded. “I swear Maggie gets it wrong on purpose so I have to call her.”

  Rory smiled. “I wondered about it. Last time I answered she only wanted to speak to the boss.”

  George chortled. He was a widower but he had a reputation for drawing the ladies. A hog driver, he also looked the part, with long white hair tied with a leather strap at his nape, his beard and moustache also long and groomed. His trademark outfit was sleeveless leather jacket, checkered shirt and blue jeans. Rory had only once seen him in a suit, when he was going to a friend’s funeral. Even then he’d looked like a biker, with a bootlace at his neck instead of a regular tie.

  “Have you had breakfast?” George asked.

  Rory shook his head.

  “Thought not.” He pulled a bank note from his top pocket. “My treat. Pick us up some hot bacon sandwiches and fancy coffees from the café. Take a break.”

  Rory took the note and headed off. On the other side of the street a tradesman’s café served hot, cheap food. He hadn’t even thought about breakfast. Usually he threw some cereal in a bowl before he rode through the city.

  The two women who ran the joint waved and the one on the counter quickly took his order. She was another of George’s groupies and they got good service. Minutes later, Rory was back at the workshop with the goods. The hot bacon and fresh bread smelled good. He hadn’t even realized he was hungry. In fact he was starving.

  George clocked him coming back and pulled up the two worn leather car seats they used for taking time out and entertaining company.

  Rory handed over the bag of food to share out.

  “You’re quiet today,” George commented eventually, gesturing with his half eaten sandwich.

  “Family stuff on my mind.”

  “Is it your dad? Is he coming home?”

  Rory shook his head. He’d told George his dad and Shelly were overseas. He’d never mentioned Sky, or her older sister Rowan. Not in a significant way, maybe in passing. “No, it’s not that.”

  “Girl trouble?”

  Rory was about to swig his coffee and paused, astonished. “What are you, Colombo?”

  George grinned, exposing pearly whites and one gleaming gold cap. “Just a lucky guess.”

  Rory had to laugh. Nevertheless, he felt the urge to get it off his chest. George was possibly the one person in the world he could talk to about personal stuff. When he was close with Draco and Sean it was lad’s stuff they discussed, not complicated stuff like this. “I have a stepsister, Sky. When we left Ireland my dad and I pitched up in a town called Cadogan on the North Wales coast. We were only breaking for the weekend, but dad met Shelly, and they got hitched. Suddenly we had a whole new family.”

  “Must have been a shock to the system.”

  “Too right.” Rory sipped his coffee. “You have no idea.”

  “So…?”

  “So, I hadn’t seen the girls since I came to London, but Sky, the younger one, we…well, we bumped into each other a couple of days ago.”

  George studied him for a while, and then chuckled. “I still remember what it felt like, bumping into a woman.”

  Rory cringed. “I me
ant in the tube, we bumped into each other in the tube.”

  Why was this so awkward, even now? They weren’t related, and it didn’t feel wrong when he’d been with her the night before, yet it felt wrong when he tried to talk about it. It was his dad’s fault, drumming into him—literally, with his fists—that it was wrong of him to want Sky.

  “I can see it in your eyes, Rory.”

  Rory stared at him in disbelief. “Is it that obvious?

  “I can relate.”

  “What, you had a stepsister?”

  “No. But I had a cousin who took my fancy. It didn’t go down well with the family.”

  Rory attempted to shrug it off. The urge to confess bit into him though. “I guess we always wanted each other, and I figured...well, I figured we could do it and that would be that.”

  “Once not enough? You got a taste for her now?

  Startled, Rory stared at his boss. Since he started working at the workshop Rory had been able to talk to George. Stuff he’d never opened up about before, including how it was with his dad and Sean, and how he’d felt when his dad married again so soon after their mother died. He’d also talked to him about going straight, giving up the hacking commissions. George had confided his own troubled teen years and encouraged Rory to invest in his skills as a mechanic to keep focused. If it hadn’t been for George, Rory may never have ditched the hacking, and it’d been a huge relief for him to do so—more than he’d even guessed before the event. Rory knew George was wise about a lot of things, but not stuff like this.

  George grinned, flashing his gold tooth. “Don’t look so surprised. I was young once, just you remember that.”

  Rory scrubbed at the back of his neck. “You’re not shocked?”

  George shook his head. “If you two aren’t blood related, what makes you feel it’s wrong?”

  Rory shrugged one shoulder “My dad used to tell me not to look at her the way I did, back in the day.”

  “Back in the day.” George repeated, and laughed. “You sound like you’re forty already.”

  Rory wasn’t sure how to feel about his boss’s reaction.