The Way Home

by Simpson, Stefanie

  They had been so close to losing it all, yet she knew it was special, even if they hurt each other, misunderstood each other, this time she wouldn’t let it get away from her.

  “Yes.” He kissed her, languidly, and she held tightly to him, kissing until the flat grew chilly.

  “I have to go I’m sorry, poor Cap’s on her own.” She glanced at the time.

  “Um, sure, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I had a great night.”

  “Thanks, me too.” She toed back into her shoes as they stood at the door after calling a cab. She reached up and kissed him. He pressed his face into it and closed his eyes. Then she was gone.

  Thirteen. Good things

  Ryan couldn’t wait to see her. He was pent up and frustrated on Sunday, so much so, that he was irritable and short tempered with himself. He had never shared himself so openly with anyone and felt raw and edgy since their date.

  “What are you doing right now?” he almost growled at Em, not even saying hello when she answered the phone.

  “Nothing, why?”

  “I…I need to see you.”

  Em smiled to herself. “Yes.”

  He hung up, grabbed his gym bag, and left for hers. Em opened the door before he knocked and he kissed her, he wasn’t gentle, but needy and demanding. She went with it, wanting to play, wanting to see what he would do being so commanding. He had been a perfect lover so far, but this want in him was new, and she needed it.

  He took her straight to the bedroom, not even saying hello.

  “Take off your clothes.” His voice held a dangerous restraint. She felt his control evaporating, and she wanted to know his true nature, how animal he would be. Her face all sweetness and innocence as she glanced up.

  “Do it.” He eyes bore into her.

  She pulled her clothes off and went to him, but he only scowled at her as she removed his jacket and t-shirt. He did the rest. He didn’t kiss her mouth, but took a fist of her hair and went to her neck. His fingers pressed into her skin, as he kissed, licked, and nipped his way around her whole body, lying over her as they lay down. He avoided her pussy and nipples, shaking with want, he grabbed a condom and flipped her onto her front. He cupped his hand over her, feeling how ready she was, he hovered for a moment, and she waited for him to enter her. She felt a sharp drop of fear, how far would he go, would he hurt her, and she smiled to herself.

  She had never been so turned on, and she had done some interesting things.

  “Em?” He barely formed the word.

  “Yes. I want you.”

  He thrust into her, he didn’t ease in, and he wasn’t slow or gentle. She cried out, as he pulled back lightly on her hair, taking her hard.

  “I want you to come.” He more or less growled at her.

  She laughed. “Hot stuff, not that easy to come like this. Why don’t you try my substitute you?” She leant down on her elbows and looked back at him. He grinned at her, and leaning back, reached for the drawer and the vibrator.

  He picked up Purple Ryan and switched it on, reaching down between her legs and felt where he joined her, spreading the wetness forward, holding her hip with one hand, and gently moved it over her clit. She braced herself, as he sped up again, the movement of his thrusts pushed her to and from the Purple Ryan. She came hard and fast. He struggled to keep his rhythm as he followed.

  He pulled her up to him, and his breath was hot in her hair, as he held tight to her. He didn’t have the words for what she gave him, but he smoothed her hair down and kissed her shoulder so tenderly, and she could have cried in response.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.”

  He pressed his face into her hair.

  “That was so good.”

  “Mm, it was, I just needed you.” He eased out and disposed of the condom, letting her nip to the bathroom, and they got into bed, and he held her. “Well, good morning.”

  She laughed at him. He napped, and she just watched him, he was so handsome. She ran her fingers across his body, and he made little noises, catching at the back of his throat as she went. There was one spot, above his hip that was sensitive. She kept running her finger along it, and he moaned. He tented the duvet, and she smiled to herself. She ought to stop, and when she did, he swallowed, his eyes fluttering open.

  “Please.” The pained word made her run her fingers along the spot again, and he sucked his breath. She shuffled down and tongued it. “Oh fuck.”

  “You like that?”

  “Bit.”

  “Only a bit? I’ll stop then.”

  “No, please.” But he pulled her up over his body, their eyes met, and he kissed her.

  She straddled him and sat back.

  “I love your sex hair.” His fingers ran through it as he said it.

  “Is that all you love?” she smirked, teasing him, but he went serious.

  “No, I love all of you. I love you. Is that strange?”

  “It’s not. I love you.” He urged her back down and kissed her. The feel of her body against him was perfect with his hard on was pressed into her.

  “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Oh?”

  Unsure of himself, he hesitated, and she shifted on him, making him moan. “About you dancing. I want to know about your life then.”

  “Do you honestly want to go down that road?”

  “Yes. I’m desperate to know.”

  “You can look it up online you know.”

  “I don’t want to. I want you to tell me.”

  “Okay.” She settled down, and he pulled the duvet up over them. “I used to get nervous at first. Angie helped me so much. When I saw how people reacted to me, it was exciting. I tried to be alluring and innocent. Our choreographer would shout at me to be more virginal. It was a tease. I had to dance sexily, without trying, and believe me that’s harder than it sounds. I loved the life too. We had so much fun. Wild parties.”

  “Sex?” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Yes. Do you want to hear this?”

  “I do.”

  “Dancing used to turn me on. I felt powerful, desired. I tried things, it was like I was trying to find something or hide from who I was, and experiences were available to me, so I tried them out.”

  He swallowed. “Like what?” he blushed. She pressed against his erection, and he made a little noise in the back of his throat again.

  She ran her hands over his chest, and he ran his hands over her bottom.

  “Pretty much anything went. Some things I didn’t like.”

  “Such as?” he frowned but didn’t open his eyes.

  “Anal.” He opened them. “Not for me, too much hassle. But I’d try it again if you wanted to try it, I’d bet it would be better with you. I also discovered I’m not gay.” She held his eye.

  “You’d try it for me? You’ve been with a woman?”

  “Yes, if it was something you wanted. And for the women, two. Well the first time, was just an experiment. I understand the appeal, but I love cock far too much.” His breathing became laboured. “The second time was in a threesome.” He couldn’t speak. “I didn’t enjoy that overmuch either, but it was okay, just not my thing. There are things I found I very much enjoyed.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, but how many?”

  “Some. I want to say this because we should have this talk, though.” She sat up. “I’m clean; it’s been two years since I had sex. I have never had unprotected sex, I’ve even used dental dams. But I had an IUD fitted. I was tested when I had it put in at the sexual health clinic, and I haven’t had sex since.” She shrugged. “Have I put you off?”

  “I’m clean too. Em, it’s more about me realising that I’m not very experienced.”

  “That’s okay because I think you’re fabulous. People who are okay at sex can become more knowledgeable and skilled, and that’s fine, but some people are just naturally good
at it, you are astonishing, I mean like nothing else I have ever experienced. You’re incredible.”

  “I’ve only been with a few women, and I’ve never done anything adventurous.”

  He reached over to the box of condoms, there were only a few left, and he put it on, flipping them over.

  As he lay on top, it wasn’t about the sex, it was about the intimacy, and this was different. He leant up on his elbows as he slowly inched into her. He moved so smoothly, and her legs wrapped around his thighs.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “This is good.”

  “Tell me.” He moved slowly in lazy, grinding little circles, making her hiss.

  “I like it hard and fast, but I like this, I love how you touch me, any way you touch me, I want it.”

  “Oh fuck, Em.”

  She moaned at his tone. He grabbed her hair again, pulling her head back and held onto it.

  “Yes, Ryan, I love you pulling my hair, the way you feel inside me, the way you look at me, how you move, fuck, everything you do feels so good.” She called out as his pace increased.

  “I’m going to come.” His voice was hurried and desperate.

  She lifted her hips, so he rubbed her clit more as he picked up speed. She came, the tight hold of her muscles sent him calling out her name as he bucked and shuddered in her, and her hips lifted off the bed. He panted into her mouth when they were still, holding her, their connection palpable.

  Ryan woke, utterly knackered. He sorted himself out and found Em cooking. She was wearing a short-cropped sweatshirt with no bra, and every time she lifted her arms, he saw under boob, transfixing him with their movement.

  “You okay?”

  He smiled. “Very.”

  She laughed at his tone and put the chicken in the oven. Watching her, so relaxed, open, and unguarded, it gave him hope, real hope that this was it, finally.

  Em stood in front of the group of six women, horribly nervous for a moment, Amy, the girl she met once at the club beamed up at Em.

  “Ladies, burlesque is an old form of art and isn’t about stripping. It’s a narrative entertainment, and it tells stories, imparts emotion. Those things are often about sexuality. The key to it is confidence. You don’t need it to start because it comes with time. Time to dig deep, and find that confident diva inside, we all have one lurking under the surface.

  “No matter your size, age, how fit, you are sexy, it comes from within. So let’s start with stance.” Em put her hands on her hips, posture commanding, legs slightly apart.

  The class wrapped up an hour later, and she packed up. She slipped off her heels as everyone filtered out, yawning as she toed on her trainers and locked up. She ran out as the alarm beeped and made her way to her car.

  She loved the dance group. She found it online and connected with Amy. Being asked to teach a class was such a compliment, and she loved it; it felt natural to do it, using her past, who she was and making it new, fitting it into who she was now. It was good.

  She checked her phone and smiled at the flirty text from Ryan. God, she wanted him again. He had left Sunday night, reluctantly, and saying goodbye turned into a quickie, which turned out to last forty minutes. She replied and went home.

  As much as they both wanted to dive head first, they were taking it slowly. They both had work, lives, therapy. Space and reflection were necessary, but it was only Tuesday, and she wanted to fuck him again.

  It was a long week.

  Em had lunch with Jess in the centre of Chadford at a nice restaurant in the Business Quarter on Friday.

  “So?” They were already playing Christmas music, and it made Em’s head ache.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Em choked on her mouthful of sandwich. She finally managed to swallow and wiped the tears from her eyes as she sipped the water a waiter had kindly brought for her.

  “What? Oh my God, are you okay? What do you need? Does Carl know? Fuck.”

  “It’s fine. I’m happy.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” Jess frowned, “I mean, even a year ago, I’d be horrified. But, you know, I’m chuffed.” A grin split her face.

  “Thank fuck for that.” Em put her hand across her heart. “What did Carl say?”

  “Oh, he’s thrilled, smug fucker struts around like he’s cock of the walk.”

  Em burst out laughing. “I’m like, yeah all right, pal, it’s me who forgot to take the pill, calm down, love.”

  “I miss you.”

  Jess looked up. “I miss you too. So, we’re going to ask you to be godmother.”

  “I’d expect nothing less.”

  “Here’s the thing, we’re asking Ryan to be godfather.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “Why would I be angry?” Em revelled in the secret, enjoying the petty revenge for that date in the summer.

  “That’s good. You know, we wondered about you disappearing from out party, and then we saw that Ryan was gone, we thought…”

  “What exactly?”

  “That you two had got your shit together.”

  “We talked, we’re okay,” Em said nothing else, and Em distracted her with baby names.

  Em text Ryan and their exchange became progressively filthier through the afternoon until he asked her to stop because he was hard, and he’d have to go on a course if anyone noticed. She laughed, but she was far too turned on to let it drop. She texted him at five to say she was on her way to him, and she couldn’t wait.

  Ryan rushed home and got ready for her. He threw on some sweats after a shower, changed his sheets, put the condoms he’d bought on the way back from work in his bedside table.

  Em’s heart pounded in her ears as she went up in the lift. Her long wool winter coat was tightly buttoned and belted. She had her large tote on her shoulder and wore her favourite fuck-me heels.

  He opened the door, and she nearly fainted from lust.

  He wore a t-shirt that was far too tight for him, sweats, and his prosthetic feet were bare. Em didn’t generally like tracksuit bottoms on men in contexts other than undertaking fitness, she always regarded shit-catchers as for fuckboys and chavs, but Ryan wore the fuck out of them. Sitting low on his hips, he wore no underwear, all she’d have to do was inch them down, and she could get to his cock.

  His hair was wet from a shower, he hadn’t shaved, and she smelt the fresh scent of shower gel from him, but more than anything, his look struck her, dark and needy, and it made her wetter than she already was. He pulled her by the belt of her coat and kissed her, and threw the door shut as he did, and walked her back up to the door.

  Her hands were all over him, feeling his body, hard and hot, and she moaned as he undid her coat. He pushed it over her shoulders and paused his kiss. He opened his eyes and smiled. Running his finger down her front, feeling her soft skin, the satin of the embroidered pale bra she wore, and the matching suspender belt, her tan shoes, but she wore no knickers, made his brain cease working.

  “Holy fuck.” He visibly swallowed, eyes transfixed.

  “Yes please.” She laughed.

  He pulled off his t-shirt as he grinned, and she opened her hand, she’d been clutching the condom all the way down the corridor. She went to her knees, and inched down the sweats, letting him spring free. She kissed the tip, ran her hands over him, his balls, and took him deep in a few deft strokes. She pulled back, his eyes grew more intense, and she slowly worked the condom down into him, he pulled her up as soon as she was done, and lifted her up. Her legs tightly encircling his waist, she let his strength hold them up, he turned to the wall and shifted to nudge inside her.

  They both cried out. She kissed him again as he moved, the strength of her thighs squeezing him was a turn on as he thrust up.

  “That’s it, like that.” Her breathy encouragement made him grip her harder, he grunted his breath, and he took her roughly. His tongue was d
eep in her mouth, one hand holding the back of her neck, and she felt so completely overwhelmed by him that she was momentarily stunned. But as she relaxed into his passion, she felt the rub of her bra against her nipples and the knead of her clit against him as he fucked her. She clenched, the feeling spiralled through her, and her arms and legs filled with the taut want.

  She broke the kiss, “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

  He went harder, feeling it, his breaths harsher.

  Unable to move much as he tightened his grip on her, face buried in her neck as he hammered her, she called loudly.

  He shouted out into her hair.

  They caught their breaths, he smiled and gently kissed her.

  “For a guy with no feet, you fuck pretty well standing up.”

  He laughed, and on shaky legs took her to bed.

  She sorted the condom as he flopped back, and she went to the bathroom. She came back still in her underwear. “Em, you look too good in that.”

  “Do you want me to take it off?”

  “Please.” His chest was still heaving as he watched. She slowly peeled her bra off, delicately holding it to her as it fell. When she let him see her breasts, it could have been for the first time. As she rolled the sheer stockings down and stepped out of her shoes, she did it in a slow, hypnotic fashion, hair streaming over her. He was lost in it and aroused again. He leant up on his elbows, as she crawled over to him.

  He kissed her carefully, and so lovingly. She nipped his shoulder and kissed over his body. He just lay back and let her enjoy him. Her face smoothed over his thighs, and his lust became so thick again, he could barely breathe.

  She moved up his body, her lips and tongue at his nipples made him grind against her. “Em.” He barely got her name out, his hands felt up her back, into her hair.

  “Relax, I’ve got you. Condoms?”

  “Drawer.”

  She didn’t put it on him right away. She caressed his body, and he sluggishly blinked. It was as though he were the most important thing to her, and he was, he felt it in every touch. Although it was a sensuous torture, it was beautiful, and he didn’t want it to be over.