Bang Gang

by Jade West

  “I got this,” he said. “Or I can put the kettle on? I’m not out to get you wasted.”

  I smiled. “It’s alright, I could do with a glass.” Or ten. “Thank you.”

  He made light work of the cork, pouring me a large one into a glass that used to be ours. He grabbed a beer, and there we stood, smiling polite smiles as though this wasn’t awkward in the slightest.

  It was really fucking awkward.

  I had prickles on the back of my neck, burning up so hot that I’m sure I was sweating. The room seemed airless and the wine didn’t do shit for my dry mouth.

  “We should go through,” he said, and my eyes widened. “To the living room,” he added. He pointed to my feet. “They can’t be bloody comfortable, Jo.”

  They weren’t. They weren’t at all.

  Darren flopped into his usual seat at the far end of the sofa, and I perched on the opposite side. I kicked off my heels and rubbed my feet, not sure exactly what I should be doing. All my intentions of throwing him against the wall and ripping his clothes off had well and truly been demoted to fantasy.

  I felt like a bloody virgin again.

  His stare was on me, his eyes not letting up as he downed his beer. “Girls alright?”

  “Girls are fine,” I said. “Mia showed off a bit, wanted to Skype Daisy all night long, you know what she’s like. Ruby not so bad, think she was tired to be honest, it’s the only time she isn’t full of backchat.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, she’s full of it.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  Cue another awkward polite smile-athon.

  My heart lurched as he rested his beer can on the floor and moved a little closer. “Look, Jodie, if this is weird for you, we don’t have to do this…”

  “It’s not weird,” I bluffed. “Not at all.”

  Please don’t stop this. Please don’t. I felt the beginnings of panic, my heartrate kicking up a hefty notch.

  “Don’t feel… pressured, like.”

  “I don’t!” I said. “Christ, Darren, I’m totally down for this.” I flicked my hair but it felt ridiculous. “I feel great.”

  He gestured to my white knuckles as they death-gripped my wine glass stem. “You’re gonna fucking break that if you squeeze any tighter.” He sniggered to himself. “Doubt I’ll be moaning about that later, mind.”

  I seized the moment, mustering every scrap of bravado for an epic sex-kitten move.

  I downed my wine and placed the glass at my feet, then – in the most sexy way I knew how – I wiggled my way out of my tunic to reveal the lacy brilliance of the babydoll underneath. I still had my jeans on, but the babydoll showed enough – the swell of my tits in the push-up cups, the pale of my tummy under the gauzy fabric.

  My tummy. I was sitting down. Shit, did my belly look flabby? I looked down in panic, sucked my breath in.

  When my eyes met his again all I registered there was shock. He stared at me, eyes wide, and didn’t say a word.

  I guessed my stripper act fell quite short. Seriously fucking short.

  Embarrassment burned like a bitch.

  “Wow,” he said, but he was still gawping, still totally taken aback. “That’s…”

  Stupid. Ridiculous.

  Totally non-sexy.

  “That’s…” he attempted again, but I was done.

  This was a terrible idea poorly executed.

  “Forget it,” I said, grateful for the warmth of the wine in my belly. I pulled on my top in a jiffy and yanked it down over my jeans. I reached for my bag and shoved my feet back in those stupid heels. “I’ll go.” I got to my feet. “This was silly. I’m silly.” I headed for the door. “Sorry, Darren, this was… I was stupid… as if I could ever be like them.”

  “Wait,” he said, but I carried on regardless.

  I unlocked the catch and yanked the door open. “I’ll drop you a text tomorrow, about the girls… I think Ruby wants to head over, I think she wants to…”

  I stopped dead as I felt the heat of him at my back. He reached an arm over my head, pushed the door closed again. The click of the latch was loud.

  “Wait,” he said, and his voice was low. The sound gave me shivers, made my clit tingle. He brushed the hair from my neck. “You’re not stupid, Jo,” he said. “You’ve never been fucking stupid.”

  “I’m…”

  “Nervous,” he finished. “Yeah, well, I guess I am too.”

  The thought seemed absurd. Darren doesn’t do nervous.

  His hands on my shoulders turned me slowly. I could hardly breathe as I came to face him. He was so close.

  He didn’t speak, didn’t utter a sound as his hands came up and tangled in my hair. I knew this move. Oh fuck, I knew it so well. His thumbs moved to brush my cheeks and rested there. He held my face in the exact same way he used to do, his palms rough against my skin. So familiar, yet not. They were much rougher than they used to be.

  I looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time in years, and his eyes were older, his skin more rugged, more lined. Seven years had aged him. Seven years had turned him from a lean youngster into a man. A proper man.

  Seven years really suited him.

  My lips were already parted when his landed. My tongue ready for his as he pushed his way inside. My hands gripped at his shoulders, and he was broader, firmer. He backed me into the door, his kiss hot and heavy, so deep that I felt consumed.

  I always felt like that with Darren.

  His body pressed against mine, his crotch to my belly, and I felt him there, the thick ridge of his cock straining in his jeans. My fingers sought out his belt, dithery as they fumbled with the buckle. His hands didn’t leave my face, didn’t let me go, not until he broke the kiss long enough to tug my top up over my head and throw it aside.

  He made lighter work of my jeans than I had with his. I stepped out of my heels and kicked them aside with the tangle of denim, and I felt so exposed, smaller without my heels and so much less sure of myself than I’d been in front of the mirror at home.

  I felt the blush on my cheeks as he stepped away, those heavy blue eyes eating me up, taking in everything – every curve, every wobble, every imperfection.

  “I like this,” he said. His fingers trailed up the floaty fabric, his thumbs seeking my nipples through the frilly cups.

  I let out a breath and his touch became rougher, fiercer, squeezing at my tits as he pressed his thigh between mine. I gasped as he came in for another kiss, and this time the endorphins rescued me, made me brave enough to wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight. His thigh ground against my pussy and made me shudder and moan.

  Oh fuck, how I wanted him.

  I’d forgot how it felt to want him this fucking bad.

  He tugged my babydoll down and my tits spilled over the top. He flicked my nipples with his thumbs and they sparked so hard I felt it in my clit. My pussy clenched and he responded, grinding his thigh just that little bit harder, enough that I couldn’t stop my hips moving, grinding right back at him. I felt the waves building, my clit buzzing against the coarseness of denim through flimsy lace. My breaths turned shallow, my hands snaking down his back until they landed on his ass. I urged him on, rubbing against his leg like a bitch on heat, so fucking needy that my legs were wobbly and weak.

  “Easy, tiger,” he breathed. “We’re not even in the fucking bedroom yet.”

  He stepped away and my whole body sagged, bereft at the abandonment. He took my hand and led me down the hallway, and it suddenly seemed so funny, so surreal. I giggled, and he flashed me a smile over his shoulder. He pushed the bedroom door open and flicked on the light.

  I soaked it in, all of it – the obviously clean sheets on the bed, the way the covers were so tidy. His dirty clothes were piled up in the laundry basket, not scattered all over the floor, and there was an absence of dirty mugs on his bedside cabinet.

  He pulled his t-shirt over his head and my appreciation of the room lost its gusto. We could have been in a hotel f
rom Hell and I wouldn’t have given a damn with that fucking body in front of me.

  “What?” he said. “What’s the grin for?”

  I shook my head. “I’m just… you look so different.”

  He pulled a face. “Not that fucking different, Jo.” He dropped his jeans and took hold of his cock. “See? Some things haven’t changed a fucking jot.”

  My heart was fucking hammering.

  God no. His cock hadn’t changed a jot, and I was glad of it. His cock was still as thick and dark as it always had been, the same veiny pattern creeping from his balls to the swollen head of him. Fuck!

  His thighs were thicker and his abs were way more defined, but his balls still hung heavy in exactly the same way they always had. I knew how they’d feel in my hands, knew how the nest of wiry hair would tickle my nose as I sucked them into my mouth.

  I felt myself relax, let my clammy thighs drift apart as I stood before him.

  “It’s been a while,” I said.

  “Like riding a fucking bike,” he said.

  “Well thanks.”

  “You know what I mean. It’ll be great. You’ll be great.”

  “I hope so.”

  He smiled. “I’ll show you.” He held out his hand and I took it, let him guide me to the bed and push me backwards. I landed with a bounce and a giggle, my hand across my eyes as he dropped to his knees and eased my legs open.

  He lowered his head, and my belly tightened, my pussy tingling with expectation. I could feel his breath against the lace of my knickers, his mouth so fucking close.

  “Fuck,” he grunted. “I’ve fucking missed this.”

  My whole body tensed as his tongue found my clit through the fabric. My hands gripped his head, his hair spiky against my fingers.

  “Shit,” I hissed. “Oh fuck, Darren.”

  He sucked at my pussy through my knickers, driving me fucking crazy before his teeth nipped the lace and pulled it away. He hooked his fingers inside and ran them across my slit, spread my lips wide until I felt the heat of his breath against my needy little clit.

  The touch of his tongue was electric.

  “Yes!” I squealed, all reservations out the window. “Oh dear fucking God, please!”

  Two fingers pushed inside me, his tongue working fucking magic. My legs started jerking and I gripped the bedcovers as his mouth drove me insane. I could hear my own wet pussy, the noises his fingers made as they fucked me nice and hard. He pushed in a third and twisted, and his knuckles pressed something, pressed something inside that felt really fucking good.

  This. This was new.

  This was really new.

  “Relax,” he said. “Let it happen.”

  I cried out as worked his fingers, his knuckles grinding a spot that made me want to pee.

  “That’s it,” he said. “That’s so fucking good, Jo.”

  He took my clit between his lips and it set me on fire. My thighs clamped around his head and my back arched, a string of expletives hissing from my mouth as I lost myself to the sensation.

  “Darren… Darren, I’m going to…”

  He twisted his fingers again and I went off like a rocket, bucking and hissing and thrashing my legs as he worked that fucking spot. The pressure inside exploded, sensations so intense they took my breath, waves of pleasure riding through my whole fucking body.

  I collapsed in a saggy mess of limbs, breath jagged and loud, a big fat smile on my face as he kissed his way up.

  He pressed his lips to my flabby belly and I didn’t even care.

  He pulled the ribbon loose on my babydoll as he passed, and the fabric fell open, leaving my tits in all their deflated glory. I watched his eyes as he soaked them in, and all I saw was hunger.

  It made my clit flutter all over again.

  His cock thumped against my thigh, and I shifted myself, squirming until he was positioned at my pussy. I reached between us and took his dick in my hand, worked the thick shaft of him up and down. His face was over mine, his eyes glazed.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered. “Please fuck me.”

  He thrust into my hand and I squeezed him tighter. I kept squeezing as he lowered his mouth to my tit and gobbled me up. He sucked hard, my nipple between his teeth, his tongue flicking as I moaned for more.

  And then he kissed me.

  He kissed me like he wanted me.

  He kissed me like I was the only woman in the world, and I kissed him right back.

  I guided his cock to me, and he pushed in just a little, stretching me enough that I groaned against his mouth.

  He rocked his hips, just enough to tease, and I wrapped my ankles around his calves, encouraged him on.

  “Wait,” he said. He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a rubber. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

  Who’d be fucking sorry?

  I fought my own insanity, casting aside the crazy part of me that wanted Darren’s dick inside me raw, wanted to feel him come inside me and fill me up with another beautiful baby like the two he’d given me already.

  I was officially losing my fucking mind.

  Batshit fucking crazy.

  I nodded. “Better to be safe.”

  He tore the foil and pulled out to slip the thing on, and this time he didn’t hold back. He braced himself above me and pushed in deep. It felt so fucking good that I grunted, squirming like a needy whore as he slammed that big dick all the way inside.

  This. This is what I wanted.

  This is what I fucking needed.

  He propped himself on his forearms, his face in mine, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he slammed me over and over.

  It was hard.

  It was deep.

  It was brutal.

  It was absolutely fucking amazing.

  I dug my nails into his shoulders and demanded more, demanded he fuck me, fuck me so fucking hard. Fuck me, Darren, fucking fuck me! Oh fucking God, just fucking fuck me!

  He repositioned himself, rocking me backwards and hooking my knees over his shoulders, and he was so deep there, so fucking into me.

  I gritted my teeth and took him, loving the way it ached as he slammed all the way home. His balls slapped my skin, his breath coming in fast grunts, his forehead clammy against mine as he took me with everything he had.

  I touched his face, my palms against his cheeks in just the way he usually held mine. I dared to look into his eyes and I found him there, the same Darren I’d loved all those years ago.

  The same Darren who’d loved me so fucking hard it hurt.

  I loved the way it hurt.

  He was like a fucking hurricane, and this was dangerous. So fucking dangerous.

  “Gonna come,” he said. “Fuck, Jo… fuck.”

  I held his face firm, wanting to see it, wanting to see every moment of pleasure on his face. He closed his eyes and held his breath, the slap of skin on skin so fucking loud as he emptied his balls inside me.

  Only it wasn’t inside me.

  Fuck, how I loved to watch him come. I loved every second of rapture on his face as he rode the climax right the way to the end.

  I smiled as he collapsed onto me, his skin hot and sweaty, his heart beating fast. I wrapped my arms around him and I could feel it. I could feel everything.

  He stayed inside me, just breathing, his cheek to my cheek until he calmed.

  When he raised his head again he was smiling, eyes warm as they fixed on mine.

  “Just like riding a fucking bike,” he said.

  “I don’t feel well,” Mia said. “I’m sick.”

  I pressed a hand to her forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”

  “But I am!”

  “You seemed fine last night.” I put my hand on her shoulder and she was tense. “Are you really sick, or is this Monday-morning-itis?”

  She shook her head, pulled away from me and grabbed her school bag. “I dunno,” she said.

  At least she was honest about it.

  I looked at the clock
– almost time to go.

  “Mia, if there’s a reason you don’t want to go to school today…”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I want to go to school. It’s nothing.”

  I’d been keeping an eye on her for days, any sign of school problems and I’d have been on it like a shot, but I’d seen nothing. Heard nothing.

  She’d seemed happy. She’d seemed totally herself, laughing away to Daisy on Skype like life was roses.

  “Do you want to stay home with Nanna?” I asked. “I’ve got extra hours this morning, but I can be home by lunchtime if you’re not well. I’m sure Lorraine would call in cover if I asked her.”

  She sighed. “No, Mum, it’s cool. I’ve got an English test, anyway.” I stared at her until she met my eyes. “I’m good, Mum, I don’t even feel sick now.”

  The time was ticking. Even Ruby was ready to go, which meant we were certainly cutting it fine.

  “I’ll go to school,” she said. “Really, I’m good. Me and Daisy are doing maths revision at lunch.”

  “Ok,” I said. “But if you feel ill at all you make sure you head up to medical and I’ll come and pick you up. Deal?”

  “Deal,” she said.

  We piled out to the car and I felt uneasy, but Mia busied herself on her phone and gave no indication that anything was really off with her. I dropped her at the bus stop and watched her join the crowd, making sure I hovered in the pull-in long enough to keep an eye out.

  She seemed fine, still tapping away on her phone without any sign of stress or illness. Maybe it was a five-minute blip. Maybe she was old enough to be getting her period. Maybe she slept funny.

  Who could possibly know?

  It appeared big-eared Ruby Trent could know.

  “It’s Tyler Dean,” she announced when we were on our way. “He had tonsillitis. He’s back today. Probably.”

  My stomach dropped. The kid with the glasses, the kid I’d been keeping an eye out at the bus stop for and hadn’t seen hide nor hair of. The kid I’d asked Mia about time after time and got nothing back from her but bravado and he’s just a stupid idiot who calls me stupid names and shrugs.

  “You heard this from Skype, did you?”