Pole Position

by Sofia Grey

  Colette was more practical. She sprinted back to the kitchen, returned seconds later with the washing up bowl, and dumped the contents over the pair of them.

  “You’re like a pair of feckin’ dogs,” she shouted, followed by a string of abuse—such a loud, strong voice for her tiny frame. The men spluttered, distracted by the soapy water cascading over them. Colette grabbed Danny’s collar and yanked him backward. As he toppled over, landing roughly on his stomach, she sat down on his back and started scolding him.

  I struggled forward, my knees shaking, and dropped to the ground next to Jon. “Jon?” I whispered. His eyes were closed, his face wet and soapy. He convulsed, spat out a mouthful of dirty water and spluttered, before pushing himself to a sitting position.

  Danny continued cursing and muttering, Colette still sitting on him, thumping him round the head when he resisted.

  I helped Jon stand, but then he saw Danny on the ground and lurched forward.

  “You arsehole,” he shouted, his fury still evident. “What the fuck was all that for?”

  “Oh no you don’t.” I placed myself between the pair of them. Danny was trying his hardest to get up but Colette was firmly in position.

  “Anita, get Jon into the kitchen. I’ll sort out this great lummox.”

  Jon stared down at Danny, and breathed heavily. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand—then lunged toward his enemy again.

  “No.” Colette reacted with a speed that amazed me. She swung out with the plastic washing up bowl, striking Jon, cracking against his shins. The dull thud was echoed by his howl of pain.

  “Inside. Now.” She pointed the bowl toward the house, and stunned, Jon complied.

  Leaning on me, he hobbled into the house where I pushed him down into one of the kitchen chairs.

  “Anita.” Jon’s face lit up, and he held out his arms to me.

  I gazed back at him. His hair was wet, soapsuds dripping over his face. Danny had scored some hits; Jon had a graze on his cheekbone and an angry-looking bruise on his chin. His shirt was dirty and torn, there were bits of gravel stuck to him, and a trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. Was he still drunk?

  “Sweetheart?” His voice was gentle, and he tried to coax me into his arms. “I really need to talk to you.”

  Doubt and confusion raged through me. I sat a safe distance away, where I couldn’t touch him. “Go on then.” My voice was wobbly.

  Jon groaned and wiped his mouth again, pulling a face at the smear of blood on his hand. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

  His knuckles were grazed and bleeding too. He was a mess, at the hands of one of my best friends. I shrugged, unable to take my eyes off him. I desperately wanted to hold and kiss him.

  “I saw you winning,” I said. “There was an accident at the stables, and I was horribly late leaving, but I got there to see you win.”

  “I know. But I didn’t find out until much later. Tom said you hadn’t come. I was gutted; I really thought you’d be there.”

  “Who was the blonde?”

  “I don’t know. One of the track girls. It was just for the photos, and then she buggered off. I swear it, Anita. I’m just so sorry it all happened like that, and you had to see it.”

  I took a deep breath, it sounded plausible.

  “So, why are you fighting with Danny? What has he done to you?”

  Jon’s eyes opened wide, as though astounded at my question. “He’s like your fucking Rottweiler; do you pay him protection money or something? I rang you, he said you refused to talk to me and hung up. That’s twice he’s cut me off.” He rubbed his eyes and picked some gravel out of his cheek, wincing as he did so. “Ouch.” Gazing back at me, he tried again.

  “I thought if I came round I might be able to speak to you, but he told me to fuck off.” He held out his hands, palms up. “Tell me the truth, Anita. If you want me to go, I will. And I promise you’ll never see me again.” He paused, his voice uneven. “Is that what you really want? It’s not what I hoped for.”

  I flew into his arms and buried my face in his chest.

  He gave a muffled grunt, and then wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. We were still there when Colette led Danny back in and parked him at the other end of the table.

  Jon and Danny snarled at each other. The tension levels in the room rocketed up another few notches.

  “Now then.” Colette was red-eyed but calm. “We’re all adults. We’ll talk about this like adults, okay?”

  Nobody replied at first. Then Danny, sporting a black eye and a split lip, growled in reply. “Get Pretty Boy out of my house. I didn’t invite him in.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” snapped Colette.

  Jon half-rose from the chair. He kept his arm around me as he leaned forward and hissed across at Danny.

  “I’ve no intention of staying.”

  “Boys.” Colette screeched.

  It was loud enough to make me wince.

  Jon and Danny both scowled at her.

  I stood up, wriggled out of Jon’s embrace, and went to grab my purse and car keys. “I’m staying at Jon’s tonight,” I announced to the room at large. You could have heard a pin drop.

  Jon gazed at me, dumbstruck.

  Colette gaped.

  Danny made a disgusted noise in his throat and narrowed his eyes, flashing hatred at Jon. If looks could kill, my darling Jon would have been gasping his final breath. As it was, he recovered pretty quickly.

  “Yeah, no problem.” Standing up, he threw Danny a triumphant grin, and held his hand out to me. “Do you want to bring some overnight stuff?”

  I nodded, and he followed me to my room and waited, leaning against the door while I tossed a few clothes into my backpack. “It’s Monday tomorrow,” I murmured, thinking aloud. I added my black work trousers and a shirt, then my basic toiletries. It took all of two minutes.

  Meanwhile Jon watched my every move, as though he were a starving man who’d spotted food. I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and went to him, taking his hand and smiling fully at him.

  “Is it okay? To come and stay the night?” I was confident of his answer.

  “You know it is.” He sounded guarded.

  I took a deep breath, plucked up all my courage and kissed him. Pulling back slightly, I stared into his eyes and mentally crossing my fingers for luck, I spoke again.

  “I don’t mean in the spare room. Will your parents say anything?”

  He looked confused for a moment, then wary, as though I was playing a trick on him. I waited. Had I read this wrong? His free hand came up to cup my face, and he looked intently at me.

  “This isn’t just to prove a point, is it? You can always have the spare room.” He smiled weakly. “You already know how comfortable the bed is.”

  “No Jon, this isn’t about scoring points. You said I could trust you.” I held his gaze and waited.

  Next thing, he was kissing me with an intensity I could never have imagined.

  8.3 Jon

  Anita drove, and I directed her through the darkened lanes, making a stop at a late-night pharmacy along the way. I left her in the car while I bought condoms, and massage oil, choosing one that doubled as a personal lubricant. I wanted to make this as special and as easy for her as possible. Her sudden change of mind had taken me aback. Only yesterday, she imagined I was some kind of monster. There was every chance she’d change her mind when we got down to it, but I wanted to be prepared.

  We parked next to my ‘Vette. Anita switched off the lights, killed the engine, and then took a deep breath. I figured she felt nervous, and was probably regretting her earlier bravado.

  “Come here,” I pulled her to me. “Remember, we only do what you’re happy with. No more than that. I promise.”

  Some privacy would be good. I looked around, but there was no sign of Dad’s car, or Mrs. Pearce’s either. Dad had mentioned a party. “Let’s just stay here a moment.” I grabbed my mobile phone, and sent Dad a text.


  Where R U?

  Moments later, he replied. At party with Paul n Carol, back late. Want to join us?

  I replied. No thx, am home. Early night. Where is Mrs. P?

  Dad came back immediately. Gone to see her sister, back tomorrow. Mum says plenty of food in fridge. See you in the morning.

  I showed the messages to Anita. She gazed up at me, her eyes huge in the darkness. “Does this mean we have the house to ourselves?”

  “It does, for the next three or four hours at least. You okay with that?”

  She gave a little nod. “I trust you, Jon. Let’s go in.”

  As soon as she was out of the car, I scooped her in my arms, and carried her along the path. I pretended to stagger under the weight, and she laughed at my fooling about, insisting I put her back on the ground.

  Grabbing her hand, I led her into the kitchen to get some drinks. Flipping the light switch, she turned to me and gasped in horror.

  “What?”

  “Oh Jon.” She was aghast. “Your face. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  I peered into the small mirror on the wall. Shit. It didn’t look good. It was just as well Mum wasn’t here to see this. Heaven knew what they thought in the pharmacy. My phone beeped again, and I swiped the screen to find another text from Dad. Don’t forget, we go to London tomorrow to meet Palmers. Talk in the morning.

  “Damn.” I’d forgotten about that.

  Anita peeped over my shoulder. “Palmers? Who are they?”

  “It’s a piece of work Dad’s trying to develop. This is my day job so I need to go.” I saw the disappointment on her face. “We’ll be there a few days, but I think we’re due back at the weekend.”

  She nodded and glanced away, then looked back at me with a shy smile. “I guess we’d better make the most of tonight then.”

  Chapter 9

  9.1 Jon

  My bedroom, complete with large en-suite bathroom, was at the other end of the house from my parents’, and I left Anita prowling round while I ran a bath. I dug out some candles to soften the lighting, and then I called her in to join me.

  Her anxiety was tangible, and I saw fear in her big, dark eyes. No matter how much I wanted her, I had to take it slowly or I’d lose her forever. Christ. This was going to be difficult.

  While I collected towels and grabbed a bottle of wine and some glasses, she undressed and slipped into the water. I’d added a generous amount of bubbles and they covered her completely. I sat on the side of the bath in my boxers a few minutes later, and examined the angry bruises on my shins. Anita watched me, silent as I fingered another bruise on my ribs. That bastard had done some damage. I remembered his furious face just inches from mine as he tried to punch me. I’d done the best I could to avoid his blows; I just hoped I managed to land a few of my own.

  I turned my back while I dropped my boxers then slipped quickly into the bath. I didn’t fancy sitting at the tap end so I coaxed her into making room for me and we ended up sitting together, with Anita nestled between my legs, her back resting against my chest. She was tense as a coiled spring.

  Covering the sponge with scented foam, I stroked it across her shoulders, smoothing away the trail of bubbles with my hand. Her skin felt like satin. Golden, unblemished, and soft, she could have been an angel fallen to earth.

  “Should I wash your hair?” I murmured into her ear, taking the opportunity to kiss her neck.

  “No, it’s fine.” She sounded breathless.

  I raised her left arm and washed it from shoulder to wrist, my lips following. Her right arm came next, and this time, I twisted her hair into a loose knot for her to hold out of the way. I sponged her side, sliding forward to stroke over her stomach and swirl up to her breasts. Her breath hitched.

  Encouraged, I wrapped my left arm around her waist and gently, an inch at a time, followed her curves with the sponge. Some of the stiffness left her spine, and she relaxed against me, a hum of approval escaping her lips. She couldn’t have missed the way my cock was pressed up against her. No matter how hard I tried to will away my raging hard-on, it refused to subside.

  Her nipples were delightfully firm, two little buds that reacted quickly to my exploring fingers. Brushing them with my thumbs drew a soft moan, and I played with them some more, drawing out the pleasure. I’d make this good for her, no matter what.

  We stayed in the bath until the water cooled. Tying a small towel around my waist first, I held a huge towel to wrap around her. I guessed she still felt uneasy. “Relax, sweetheart.” I brushed a kiss across her bare shoulder. “We have all night, there’s no hurry.”

  Back in the bedroom, I’d left more candles burning, and spread another giant towel over the bedclothes. I led her by the hand and squeezed her fingers. “Hop on the bed, and lie down on your stomach.” I lifted the bottle of massage oil. “I’m going to give you a back rub. And maybe a front rub too, if you’re very well behaved.” I winked at her.

  She huffed a laugh, her cheeks pinking, and I swept a tendril of damp hair behind her ear.

  “We only do what you’re happy with.”

  I held my breath. Did Anita trust me? She hesitated a moment, then dropped the towel and climbed onto the bed. Lying there on her stomach in the flickering candlelight, her neat, golden bottom on show, she looked exquisite.

  If I got this right, it’d be a huge turning point in her life, and our relationship. I had the power to make her happy. It was an awesome responsibility.

  9.2 Anita

  Why had I been so scared? I already knew it would be different with Jon. What worried me now, was not so much the fear of him hurting me—I trusted he would be gentler than Rob—but the fear of being unable to respond. The label of frigid was a hard one to shake off. Would he be disappointed with me?

  Bathing together had been delicious. Jon had nuzzled the back of my neck, one hand idly playing with my nipples, and it’d been like a series of electric shocks arcing through me. My breasts ached for his touch, and I felt a strange pressure between my legs; a heat I’d never known before. When he pulled me out of the bath I’d been bereft of his touch, but now, lying facedown on the bed while he rubbed scented oil into my skin, I was in heaven. Feeling daring, I rolled over.

  He made a growling noise deep in his throat, but his lips were curving when he leaned down to kiss me. “Naughty. I haven’t even nearly finished yet.”

  He smoothed warm hands over me in a sensuous caress, the oil gliding over my skin. My heart fluttered, and my pulse raced. Was it me, or was it hot in here? Everywhere he stroked, tingles of pleasure danced in his wake. Brushing his thumbs across my nipples, he teased me, touching and then retreating.

  The heat between my legs intensified, and I squirmed. I wanted something. I just didn’t know what. Every time I tried to touch him, Jon made a tutting noise and placed my hands back on the bed.

  “Let me make it good for you,” he whispered.

  When it felt as though I would combust if he didn’t kiss me right then, he lay down next to me and poured some of the oil into the palm of his hand. Finally, he moved his hand between my legs. His fingers were slippery and he explored with lazy circles, his touch ghosting across my burning flesh. I shifted to give him easier access.

  He closed his mouth over one breast, and I nearly bucked him off the bed. Moist heat surrounded my throbbing nipple, and he sucked the tender flesh while he lapped and swirled with his tongue.

  Oh. God. I’d never felt this before, never been this aroused, ever. I couldn’t keep my hands still. I raked them through his hair, trying to hold his head in place. I never wanted him to stop.

  I’d been so intent on his clever mouth, I failed to notice where he was going with his fingers. They glided easily over my heated flesh, and he slid one finger inside me, while brushing his thumb across my clit. It felt like a huge spring tightening. I moaned, unable to stay quiet. I arched my back, uncertain about the feeling of intense pressure, not knowing how to react.

  Jon lifted his
head. “You like that?” His whisper skated over my skin.

  I whimpered. He licked my nipple, and I found my voice. “Yes, yes, please. Don’t stop.”

  “You feel wonderful, sweetheart.” He moved his fingers faster, sliding into me, teasing at my sensitive button, and driving me to the edge of an abyss. I teetered there for a second, and then crashed over the edge, wave after wave of pleasure pounding through me. I cried out, and clutched at Jon as I slowly came down to earth. I was bathed in perspiration, and my breathing was erratic. My heart beat with a new rhythm.

  I dragged in a breath, and shuddered at another aftershock that rumbled through me. I couldn’t take my eyes off Jon. I tried to tell him how amazing that was, but I couldn’t form the right words. I might even have been drooling.

  I swiped a hand over my mouth and sought my voice. “I think. I know. God.” I gave up trying to voice my thoughts when he claimed my lips in a hungry kiss.

  He’d kept a towel around his waist. I hadn’t seen him yet in the flesh, but I was more confident. It might not be that bad.

  Jon kissed me, slow and relaxed, as though we had all the time in the world, but I didn’t want to wait any longer. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I dropped my head back, thrilled at the feel of his mouth on my throat. I ached for him.

  I was ready.

  When he slipped an oiled finger over my clit again, I opened my legs wider. “Now,” I whispered, my voice deserting me.

  “You’re so wet, baby. So beautiful.”

  He pulled back long enough to fit a condom, and I kept my gaze on his face. A flush lined his cheeks, and his pupils were dilated. Just looking at him made my pulse clatter. When he smiled, it took my breath away.

  “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Jon’s voice was strained. He eased in, fraction by fraction, gliding as easily as his fingers had, but filling me oh-so-full.

  I gazed into Jon’s hooded eyes. He was totally focused on me. On giving me pleasure.

  “You okay?” His voice rasped, the roughness exciting. He inched deeper when I nodded. It didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt.