Just for the Rush

by Jane Lark

  ‘No, this is what I wear and you can think about that when you look at my bum in the office’

  He laughed. ‘Are you trying to make sure I never work out my lust for you?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘We’ll see. I’m going to try. I’m going to work hard to satisfy us both so well we’ll be too exhausted to ever want sex with each other again.’

  ‘So we’ll look at each other and think, that was too knackering?’

  ‘Maybe not that, but you’ll look at me and feel exhausted by the memory.’

  ‘I feel exhausted now, just waiting for you to take my jeans off.’

  Another note of humour escaped his throat. ‘My pace.’

  I poked my tongue out. He swooped down and bit it. ‘Ah.’

  He didn’t touch me then as he lifted away, not for ages. But he was moving.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Taking my shirt off.’

  ‘Ooo let me see, I want—’

  ‘No. But you can touch.’ He gripped one of my hands and pressed my palm against his abs, he had really clearly defined abs, much tighter than mine, and I’d been right, there was no layer of fat beneath his skin. My other hand found his body too and ran over the contours. He was all velvety skin and firm muscle beneath, and his pecs were shallow and not hairy; he just had a few hairs dusted around his nipples, but nowhere else.

  I slid my hands down across his skin, over his abdomen. There was a little hair in a line leading into his trousers. My fingers found his belt buckle.

  ‘Uh-uh, my pace.’ He pulled my hands away.

  The room was warm now and I could hear the fire crackling.

  He slid my jeans off my hips but didn’t take them off, only slid them to my upper thighs. Desire ran up the back of my throat—a deep urge to grab him. There were new sensations everywhere in my body, not just the places he touched.

  A piece of ice ran around the edge of my pants. ‘Ivy Cooper, are you wearing a thong?’

  ‘Jack Rendell, I am, but I wish you’d hurry up and get it off, and get all your clothes off too.’

  A deep laugh rang around me. I felt it on my skin as the cannabis continued easing into my body.

  ‘My pace.’

  ‘Fuck your pace.’

  ‘Fuck it or not, still my pace.’

  He kissed my pelvic bone over the top of the lace, playing with the ice, running it over my abs. Then, suddenly, he gripped my hips and flipped me over to lie on my stomach. ‘Ah!’ A squeal came out of my mouth, as my heartrate leapt.

  A cold ice cube settled between the top of my bottom cheeks and was left there to begin to melt as his tongue played along the line of my thong and his fingers pulled my jeans down so they cupped my bottom.

  He was such a tease.

  ‘I’m hard as hell, Ivy.’

  ‘I didn’t know hell was hard, but I guess you’ve been there.’

  ‘Ha. Ha.’

  He breathed in, a sound that said all his senses were appreciating me. ‘I’m undoing my jeans.’

  Oh wow. No. ‘What are you going to do?’ I shivered, as he stripped my blouse off my arms and threw it somewhere, then took off my bra. I was half-nervous now the moment was nearly here. But the nerves made the rush kick back in, the adrenaline pulsed inside me, full of anticipation; whatever Jack did to me, it was going to be good. It was going to make me feel good.

  ‘I’m going to do all the things I dream of doing when I look at your bum. Every time you bend over a desk, you are going to think of me doing this.’ He came down over me, his hands either side of my shoulders and then he settled between the cheeks of my bottom, his firm, velvety warm skin a contrast to the ice, then he rocked against me, his cold belt buckle pressing into my buttock. He hadn’t taken his trousers down, just opened them and pushed them down a little. The material brushed against my skin as he rocked against me, sliding up between my bottom cheeks, where my thong was buried.

  Sounds left his throat, pleasant sounds, satisfied sounds.

  My face was pressed into a cushion and my fingers clasped the edge of it, my toes gripping on the cold stone flags, while the soles of my feet burned from the heat of the fire.

  This was crazy. This was Jack.

  ‘I could come like this, but I’m not going to.’

  ‘I could come with you just doing that, if you’d actually touch me.’

  ‘Wait. Patience—’

  ‘I am waiting. Your pace, I know.’

  He pulled away and smacked my bottom. It wasn’t even a gentle smack – it was really hard. ‘If you aren’t going to do as I say, Ivy.’

  He smacked me again. ‘Ow.’

  ‘Is that as loud as you can shout?’

  ‘Ah. You’re vicious!’ He kept smacking.

  ‘Doesn’t it turn you on?’

  ‘No. It hurts!’

  ‘It turns me on.’ He smacked me again.

  ‘You prick. Ow!’

  He laughed.

  ‘Ow!’

  When I expected the next smack, though it wasn’t that, but about three cold lumps of ice were pressed on to my bottom.

  ‘Ow,’ I said it for a different reason.

  He laughed again. ‘Does it feel better?’

  ‘A little.’

  He did the same to my other bum cheek – smacked it about a dozen times, the bastard, then put ice on it. Then he kissed both my bottom cheeks and slid my thong down below them.

  I was so wet for him, even though he’d hurt me when he’d smacked me.

  ‘Oh, Jack.’ He slid himself into the slot between the gap of my thong as it gripped beneath my bottom, and my flesh, so that he slid through the moisture between my legs. The weight of his hips came down on to me, pressing down like he was actually having sex with me, but he wasn’t penetrating me at all, just taking his own pleasure and making a game of it, a delicious game.

  If I had not split up with Rick I’d have been at home playing charades, or Scrabble, or something.

  My breathing followed the pace of his strokes and my fingers curled about the cushion again, clutching tight as I tried not to cry out. Even Jack doing this was mesmerising.

  He stopped then and yanked my jeans down more, then moved out of the way and pulled them off my feet.

  ‘Thank God,’ I whispered.

  He laughed. Then he pulled off the stay-up stockings I’d left on when I’d put on my jeans after work. I felt the whisper of the light materiel touch my calves as he threw them away.

  I could hear him moving but I couldn’t—

  ‘I’m taking off my trousers, Ivy. Stripping them down my legs, along with my boxers.’

  He was saying it to make me anticipate what was coming next. I was anticipating, and my insides were anticipating.

  He stripped my thong off last, leaving us naked.

  ‘Open your legs a little.’

  I did. I was still lying on my tummy, in the darkness behind the blindfold.

  I thought he was going to come into me, but instead his fingers gripped my bottom cheeks and pulled them apart, and then his tongue touched me.

  ‘Oh.’

  He lifted my hips with the pressure of his fingers. I bent my knees up and tilted up in his face in answer.

  He laughed, and then, finally, his fingers slipped into me. ‘Ooo,’ it was a sound of gratitude, of longing for more. I desperately wanted more. My heart pounded out a rhythm that played through my veins, as he used his tongue and fingers, still teasing me, toying with me. I pushed back against the invasion of his long fingers when he tried to make them shallow. He let me play along with him, not avoiding my attempts to join in, but using them to increase the anticipation – sometimes allowing it, sometimes avoiding it.

  I rocked back against him as his tongue skimmed over me.

  I was so horny and yet I was nowhere near coming, and I felt like that was how he wanted it.

  With Rick I’d had to make myself come before he started if I wanted to get anything out of sex… This wa
s so different.

  ‘Oh God.’ Those were his words, and he said them right before he slipped into me, his full length.

  It was the most heavenly thing I’d ever felt. I lifted up on to all-fours, kneeling before him on the cushions, still blindfolded, as he gripped my hips and pulled me against him when he pushed in, then he withdrew and pushed me away at the same time, creating a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

  I was panting as he filled me up – every time he filled me up – and sweating in the heat from the fire, and the heat of his adoration.

  An ice cube touched the top of the cleft between my buttocks, and he held it there with one hand, letting it melt as he kept moving, and I kept moving. The water trickled down over where we joined, cold and different, and then it dripped from the front. His cushions were going to be a mess.

  I didn’t care. Let him care.

  I pushed back against him.

  Once the ice had melted he gripped my thighs, and then his rhythm was no longer slow and gentle it was fast and hard and desperate as he pounded into me with firm, hard strokes. Rick had never once, in all the years we’d been together, set my heart pumping like this. My breaths were shallow. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t waste any thoughts on breathing.

  ‘Oh, Jack.’

  Feelings, sensations danced around in my nerves. It was as if I hovered a step away from an orgasm. Just one step more, just one…

  ‘Oh.’ It spun out into my blood, a raging storm of sensation whizzing through my nerves with the extra intensity from the cannabis. It washed through me on a flood, then swelled and ebbed like waves rolling in then pulling out as he carried on shoving into me.

  I hadn’t ever known an orgasm like this – it was different to when I played with myself when I’d been messing around with Rick; that’s what my old sex life felt like now – only messing around. This… This was a universe away from what Rick and I had done.

  Then suddenly Jack stopped and leant over me. ‘You’re on the pill, aren’t you? I didn’t check.’

  ‘Yes, Jack, I’m on the pill. Don’t stop.’

  He laughed and then he was moving again, more determinedly, desperately, as his fingers slipped forward and gripped my waist. ‘I love your figure. You’re so beautiful.’

  I came again because he’d said that as he pushed into me. I was swept away with the sensations. They made tears fill my eyes – in the darkness behind the blindfold.

  ‘Oh.’ It was a breath of sound on my lips.

  His hand slipped to grip my thighs again, and then he breathed out on a low growl, pushed in hard three times and spilled himself into me. His fingers clawed into my thighs, pressing into them as he ground himself against me in a circular motion.

  Then, finally, he slipped out of me with a sigh of relief.

  I tumbled on to my back and tried to take the blindfold off, but it was too tight.

  ‘Here. Sit up.’

  I did.

  What felt like the back of his fingers brushed over my breast before he undid the tea towel. It took him a while to get the knot undone, but when it slid away I saw the beautiful chest I’d touched before.

  I touched it again as he pulled back. He was still kneeling, with his buttocks settled back on his heels, so I had a full frontal of Jack naked.

  He was beautiful.

  His head lowered and he kissed me hard on the lips, then turned away and snatched up the metal tin with his cannabis in it. He sat on the cushions facing the fire and began making another joint.

  This was the craziest day of my life.

  I sat forward and clasped my knees in the same position I’d been sitting in before the sex had begun.

  We were still naked.

  He lit the joint and took a drag, then held it out to me. ‘Here. I’ll go get the duvet. You must be cold.’

  I took a drag as he stood up, looking like a piece of moving artwork from the Tate Gallery. He went upstairs. I didn’t take another drag, the first one had made my head spin.

  It had been a really long day.

  When he came back down, he carried a duvet and pillows too. I suppose he planned to sleep down here.

  ‘It’ll be warmer down here, there’s no central heating. I never had it put in. I felt like it would spoil the rustic style of the place, and the range cooker in the kitchen keeps the place lukewarm.’

  I nodded, feeling weird now.

  He tossed the pillows down and dropped the duvet, then held his hand out for the joint. I gave it to him, then lay down, pulling a pillow beneath my head and yanking the duvet across, so it covered me. The linen smelled fresh, with a hint of lavender.

  With a hand under my head on the pillow, I watched him. He dropped to his knees, then sat back on his haunches, smoking. ‘Do you want some more?’ He lifted the end of the joint out towards me.

  ‘No. It makes me dizzy.’

  He smiled. ‘More for me, then.’

  I lay there, watching him. It all felt odd now it was over. Awkward. Like there was no need for me to be here, like I shouldn’t be here. But I was still hot and sticky between my legs and my blood hummed from the sex. I was glad I’d come here.

  He opened the wood-burner and threw the last of the joint into the fire, then put another couple of logs on and shut the door. Then he lifted the duvet and joined me underneath it.

  ‘Come here.’ He lifted an arm, I settled against his chest. I felt better there, calmer.

  His fingers stroked through my hair as I drifted into sleep. His breathing didn’t sound like he was falling asleep.

  Chapter 4

  The weight of Ivy’s head rested on my chest. I opened my eyes. It was daylight and it was probably late morning. It had taken me ages to get to sleep; I’d been too wound up, and the second joint had only ended up making me think more not less.

  Anyway, now I was awake I wasn’t going to be able to get to sleep again. I’d always suffered with insomnia, but since everything had kicked off, I found sleeping even harder.

  I looked up at the ceiling, absorbing the sound of Ivy breathing and the feel of her hair stirring on my chest.

  Ivy was special, I’d always known that – different. When I’d interviewed her years ago, I’d spent the whole time looking at her eyes as she’d stared at me, trying to work out if they were really blue, because –who had lavender eyes? Elizabeth Taylor was the only other woman I’d heard of with eyes like Ivy’s.

  I liked looking at her smile too. It was why I’d gone to the coffee shop with her, because I’d needed a few doses of her smile… and then she’d still been at work, and the need in me had roared. I hadn’t been with anyone in weeks and I’d always wanted her, and I’d been lonely and in a miserable mood and it had been too tempting. But Em was going to kill me – if she found out.

  I sighed and, my chest lifting, woke Ivy. Her palm pressed down on to my stomach and she turned to look at me.

  Her dark eyelashes seemed to make the lavender an even deeper colour, and she looked pretty, even with her hair messed up and her eyes cloudy with sleep.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t looked. I was trying not to wake you.’

  She blushed as her breast stroked over my chest when she moved. My dick came to life. But I didn’t want another round right now. There was something I wanted to do, even if it did annoy Victoria.

  I untangled my legs from Ivy’s. ‘I need the toilet.’

  The room was cold. The fire must have burned out hours ago.

  I glanced over at the naked fir tree as I threw the duvet back. It wasn’t naked any more. One of Ivy’s stockings hung from it. It slid off and fell among the ashes around the hearth.

  ‘Perfect timing,’ she whispered. ‘That’s Santa’s judgement.’

  I looked back at her and smiled weakly as the humour caught in my chest – it was mixed with an odd sense of pain. Everything around me was reminding me of what I didn’t have. I hated it. I was pissed off again today, even though I’d run aw
ay.

  ‘Happy—’ Ivy began.

  ‘Don’t say it.’ I covered her mouth.

  She laughed beneath my hand. But I wasn’t joking.

  She bit my hand gently, so I had to lift it off her mouth, then said, ‘I need the loo too.’

  ‘You go first, then, but hurry.’

  She got out from the beneath the duvet, all beautiful long, pale, slender limbs, and ran towards the stairs.

  I followed her up there and waited outside the bathroom for her to finish, then I pointed to my bedroom door. ‘Your case is in my room, if you want to cover up a bit. After I’ve been to the loo, I’ll go down and cook breakfast, so feel free to have a shower if you want one.’

  She nodded.

  I went into the bathroom, stood over the toilet and peed. I smelled of Ivy. She had a nice smell.

  I washed my hands and washed her scent off me. I’d shower after we’d eaten.

  I walked into the bedroom. Ivy was sorting out something to wear, pulling clothes out of her case. I went over to mine and found a pair of my trunk-style boxers to put on. ‘Are you going to shower?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’ll see you downstairs, then.’

  It was weird having her here this morning. When I’d asked her up here, it had been a knee-jerk reaction. I hadn’t thought beyond what I wanted to do last night – and now I’d have her hanging around all week.

  My heart pumped in a quick rhythm as I went back downstairs. The bathroom door shut upstairs. I walked over and grabbed my mobile from the stereo’s docking point. Turmoil rioted and gripped at my gut as I looked at the phone. I wanted to call. Just a quick call.

  I slid up Victoria’s number, then touched the call icon.

  It rang five times, I was going to hang up, but—’Jack?’

  ‘Hi, can I speak to her?’ I was breathless, and my heart was jumping in my chest as if it was raving. My first Christmas with a daughter. I’d wanted her here.

  Victoria sighed, as though it was an inconvenience. ‘Yes, okay. Hang on.’

  I breathed deeply as shivers trembled through my muscles. I still wasn’t used to this.

  ‘Hi!’ Her breathing was hard, as though she had the phone too close to her mouth.